I have good news! I'm not sick any more!
To LionsandTrolls: Don't worry, I don't mind if you forget to review, but it's still nice that you do. 'Spectres' made you cry? Oh, god, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean for that to happen! And yeah, my internet is a bitch like that as well. Glad you found the last chapter cute. :)
Another long chapter ahead! More reasons for you to hate me! I will ignore the shotgun you are aiming at my head if you review!
Chapter 14 – Volatile
Lancing sunlight streamed through the gaps in the mighty tree's roots; striking Clarity's eyelids and rudely awakening them. Growling in irritation, they lifted their head to glare up at the sky and the fiery orb hanging in it that dared to wake them. Surprisingly, there was a weight resting on their back that refused to go away. Looking back, their eyes found a furry brown body, sound asleep without a care in the world. Two more were sprawled out next to them, the blond one snoring quietly, and the other one kicking his hind legs about in some sort of dream. Well, that was what happened when you fell asleep in the hollow of a tree with three werewolf cubs in tow.
Clarity chuckled softly. Standing up on all fours, they were careful not to dislodge Wolf from their back or disturb Dingo and Husky. They stretched their long limbs to ease out the stiffness that morning always brought and slowly padded out of the hollow, into the shaded brightness of the estate woods. It was a warm morning; surprisingly so; considering that it was early November. The soft songs of birds echoed through the trees; merging into one bright, cheerful melody that charmed Clarity's ears; warm, earthy scents pervaded their nostrils, the lingering taste of last night's prey could still be detected on their tongue, and a soft breeze whistled through the air, ruffling their fur.
Smiling, Clarity craned their neck to prod Wolf with their nose. A soft whine escaped the small Pup as he blinked awake, much like Erskine did when he woke up first thing in the morning.
"Morning, sleepyhead," the black wolf crooned, drawing the brown one's attention. "Still a little tired?"
Wolf nodded and yawned widely, showing off small, sharp white teeth.
"Let's get back to Valkyrie and the others, then, okay? Now how about we wake up your brothers."
Back at the house, Valkyrie was surprised to see four werewolves at her door, but after an explanation from Clarity about how the full moon kept them transformed during the days it reigned over as well as the nights, she relaxed. After depositing the three Pups in the living room to eat breakfast with Dexter and Saracen, Clarity went upstairs to shower and get rid of the smell of dirt and wash off the mud on their feet. Once done, their pelt was still damp, but not dripping wet. They'd fastened their favourite purple-and-black neckerchief around their neck and slipped on their Necromancy vessel in its usual place on their right arm before heading back downstairs in pursuit of the tantalising aroma of bacon.
Skulduggery was in the kitchen, being taught how to fry bacon and eggs properly. Hardly anything unusual, but Clarity's heightened senses picked up a whiff of something they hadn't expected to find on the Skeleton Detective. Erskine's scent radiated off of Skulduggery's body, as if they'd been in close contact recently. Very close contact.
Eyes narrowed, Clarity skulked in the corner as they waited for Erskine to come downstairs. They didn't have to wait long, because five minutes later, the man in question entered the kitchen and sat down at the table. Skulduggery glanced back and offered him a small smile in greeting that he returned, but Valkyrie's eyes just flickered in his direction before she completely ignored him. That wasn't what aroused Clarity's suspicion. Erskine had Skulduggery's scent all over him, just like Skulduggery had his. It took a lot of willpower not to growl at the detective.
Still, there was nothing to stop them from sending a subtle nudge to Skulduggery's mind. Another werewolf talent; mild telepathy between certain members of their pack that was limited to the sensations of emotions and occasionally a simple image. It required either eye contact or a powerful bond between the parties involved, but even then, it required a lot of practise and a strong mind.
Skulduggery felt the nudge just as well as anyone with even part of a lycanthrope's mind. He sensed irritation and protective fury.
"What do you want, Clarity?" Skulduggery growled, turning towards his relative.
A low snarl was his answer. "You. Upstairs. Now. We need to talk."
Frowning, Skulduggery followed his disgruntled werewolf charge out of the kitchen and upstairs into Clarity's room. Once the door was shut, he turned towards them and saw them pacing around and sending frustrated snarls in his direction.
"Mind telling me what this is about?" he asked apathetically.
"Mind me asking why you and Erskine reek of each other this morning?" Clarity bit back. "Because if you have done something, then I'll beat you to-."
"Excuse me? But since when did you become Erskine's mother?"
"When you left him to be used like some sort of-."
"That was not my fault! I had no idea what was happening to him, and-."
"And if you had found out, you would have left him there anyway!"
"And abandoned him to a fate worse than the death I begged for?! I know what it's like, Clarity, I would never have left him to suffer through that if I knew! A month and I was already desperate to depart. Six years? Death would have been just as much a blessing as someone coming to rescue him."
Clarity froze up, their eyes locked with Skulduggery's. He could feel the shock and disbelief battering at his mind, see the occasional flash of a picture depicting him as a warrior. Strong, unbreakable and untouched, despite the darkness that shrouded him. Not something that could be used like that.
"You don't know everything about me," he said quietly, breaking Clarity out of their shock.
"I… I see. But that still doesn't explain why you both smell as if you slept together last night."
Skulduggery sighed. "Because we did. I asked him if he could keep me company for the night because… urgh, why do I have to tell you?"
"Because he's my responsibility and under my custody. He might seem alright now, but make one wrong move, and he becomes a scared cub all over again, just like when I hauled him out of that hellhole. So I'll ask you again; what exactly went on last night?"
Rolling his eyes, Skulduggery sat on the bed, frustrated. "We talked, shared a bed and that was it. Hardly anything we're not accustomed to."
"Excuse me?"
"We shared tents during the war. Nightmares were fairly common; still are."
"So you slept together to avoid nightmares. Fair enough. Anything else I should know about?"
Skulduggery hesitated. "Nothing comes to mind."
"You hesitated, so clearly there is something."
"Something that is nothing of your concern. I'll talk you when it is."
"Are you trying to provoke me into eating you?"
Skulduggery rolled his eyes. "It's between me and Erskine, okay?"
"Fine. Don't tell me. Just don't let Erskine get hurt. If you do, then I'll make you pay."
"Not unless I get there first. Trust me, I can hold a good grudge against myself."
"So I've heard."
"So you understand. Good. Now let's go back downstairs so I can carry on learning to cook food that I can't eat."
Clarity growled softly, but didn't attack him, so he took it as a sign that he was good to go.
"Fine. But remember what I said. He's family to me. A member of my pack. And pack members protect each other."
Nodding, Skulduggery followed Clarity back to the kitchen where Erskine was still being ignored by Valkyrie. Better than being smacked over the head at least.
"Okay," Skulduggery announced, catching Valkyrie's attention. "Where were we?"
After breakfast, Skulduggery chose to sulk in the living room on the armchair that he deemed 'his.' The reason why was because Valkyrie had suggested he tried eating eggs since he was recovering quite well, and he'd complied. No less than half an hour of stomach cramps later, he was grovelling at the foot of the porcelain throne and reminiscing not-so-old memories with the partially digested remains of his breakfast.
He was nauseous, lonely and bored. Not a good combination. Valkyrie was off doing a case (without him, might he add), Saracen and Dexter were shopping for food and other necessities, Clarity was taking the Pups for a walk and Erskine was taking a ridiculously long shower upstairs.
Hold that last one. He heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Finally.
Ignoring the lingering ache in his stomach, Skulduggery straightened his posture and turned his head towards the door, only to see a fully clothed yet somewhat bedraggled Erskine stride in and drop onto the sofa. Concerned, Skulduggery watched as his boyfriend (there was no need to dodge the term any more) tangled his fingers in his hair and started muttering nervously. His hands were shaking, and he looked as if he'd barely dried himself off then donned the closest piece of clothing he could find before coming down.
"Erskine?" Skulduggery ventured, standing up and tentatively walking over. "Is something wrong?"
"I… I don't know," Erskine stammered, not even looking up at Skulduggery, and simply returning to his querulous nattering. Troubled by this, Skulduggery sat down next to him, heeding any sign that might forebode a violent outburst, and gently rubbed wide circles on his back in an attempt to soothe him. Surely enough, the shaking ceased, and Erskine's incomprehensible monologue was brought to a close. Satisfied that most of the panic had relented, Skulduggery pulled him into a tender embrace, placing an affectionate kiss on his cheek.
"Better?" he asked, nuzzling Erskine's neck lovingly. His skin was warm yet damp, and Skulduggery could feel the steady thudding of his heart through his chest, but his hair was soaked and still dripping down into the back of his shirt, leaving the garment sodden.
"Much," Erskine said, relaxing back into Skulduggery and letting his body heat envelope him. "I think something's off with the heating in this place. The water just turned cold all of a sudden and I panicked. The showers were always freezing back there."
He shivered slightly and pressed up against Skulduggery a little more. God, he really didn't want to relive those memories if he couldn't help it.
"It's okay, love," Skulduggery consoled, kissing him again. "Listen, let's dry you off properly, shall we?"
Smiling, Erskine turned around so that he was facing Skulduggery and eagerly kissed him on the lips. His affections were quickly returned, and intentions of returning to Erskine's bathroom were momentarily forgotten as they were both enraptured in each other. Once again, Skulduggery embraced him lovingly and ran his hands across Erskine's back gently, making sure to avoid going any lower.
After a minute or so, they pulled away, both blushing heavily.
"Hmm," Skulduggery mused quietly. "You're a good kisser."
"As are you," Erskine remarked, running his fingers through his hair, which was still soaked. "I should really go dry myself off."
"I would certainly recommend you did. Come on."
Standing up, Skulduggery attempted to pull Erskine to his feet after him, but the moment Erskine saw his muscles straining a little too much for comfort, he rose to his feet himself. Looking at the detective, he saw yet again how thin he was, and the clear fatigue in his eyes.
"Don't strain yourself," he said solemnly. "As much as it frustrates you, you have limits, and right now, it'd be dangerous to try and push them. Okay?"
"Okay."
Erskine smiled, squeezing Skulduggery's hand gently. Following him upstairs, he noticed how Skulduggery's legs weren't as shaky as they used to be whenever he was forced to climb up them. Maybe the limits could be pushed a little, seeing as how they were gradually moving forward anyway.
Up in Erskine's en suite bathroom, Skulduggery quickly grabbed a towel and proceeded to dry him off. He started off with his hair, which was still absolutely sodden; gently tousling the brown mop so that it was scattered all over Erskine's face.
"I can dry myself off, you know," Erskine protested, trying to escape the towel, but Skulduggery saw the small smile on his face. "Hey. Heh, stop."
"I'm almost done with your hair," Skulduggery said, a small smirk reaching his features. "Just hold still."
The words sent a faint chill down Erskine's spine, but he ignored it when Skulduggery finished drying his hair and ruffled it gently.
"There; finished. Now for the rest of you."
The chill turned into a blade of ice that cut into Erskine's back and shot through his skull, and he backed away in terror. Pain rang through his mind and tears stung his eyes as memories came at him full throttle. Darkness ate at the corners of his vision and the tiled white bathroom walls flickered in and out of sight, replaced by a dank, dark cell. From the shadows of the room, voices hissed at him, whispering dark threats and promising agony and shame upon him.
"I'm not done with you, bitch. Gotta do the rest of you."
"Quit squirming, you little shit! Hold still!"
"N-no," Erskine whimpered, backing into the corner in a futile attempt to escape. "No, no, no, no, no! Please, stop it! I'm sorry!"
Fuck, Skulduggery cursed silently, dropping the towel and slowly approaching Erskine. What the fuck have I done?
"Erskine," Skulduggery ventured carefully. "Erskine, what's wrong?"
By now, Erskine had shrank down to the floor and curled up into a shaking mess of fear and helplessness, hiding behind his hands and flinching away from unseen horrors. Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably as he cried out in terror whenever something in his head seemed to strike out at him.
"What's wrong, slut? You want me to screw you over some more? That can be arranged."
"No, no more, I beg of you!" Erskine wailed as phantom agony that felt all too real lanced through him. "Please, stop!"
Skulduggery felt his own resolve buckle slightly, but he refused to let it break and instead racked his brain to come up with a way to coax Erskine back into reality. Vile was being a ton of help (note the sarcasm), yelling at him to think of something and put an end to Erskine's pain without suggesting anything himself.
He had to think. What did he know about PTSD? Very little, that was what. He'd never suffered from it himself, and neither had he known anyone to be struck by an attack; especially one as violent as this. Goddammit! Why did he have to be so ignorant of human minds?!
'Think, you idiot!' Vile screamed.
'You're no help, bitch!'
"Erskine," Skulduggery called out, trying to catch Erskine's attention. Kneeling in front of his shaking form, he cautiously reached out and placed a hand on his. It was no surprise when Erskine flinched away and cried out. Clearly, he'd have to take an alternate course of action.
Worried beyond measure, Skulduggery went over to check the cupboard for something that would help. Aftershave, toothbrush, toothpaste, razors and shaving cream. Damn, there's nothing!
Wait! Vile interrupted. Bottom shelf, behind the shaving cream.
Skulduggery looked where Vile had specified, and found a small perfume bottle hidden away in the corner. It was filled with a colourless liquid, and there was a miniscule label attached to it with the words 'For reality' printed onto it.
Reality…
Grabbing the bottle, Skulduggery immediately proceeded to spray its contents around the room. The strong smell of mint filled the air, and he felt his own panic begin to lessen. Erskine's shaking fit slowly subsided to a certain point. He was still trembling and crying but he seemed to have reached a state of mind that was approachable. Again, Skulduggery attempted to reach him.
"Erskine," he said quietly, reaching out again. "Erskine, it's okay. Please. Talk to me."
"Please," Erskine begged, still hiding behind his hands and shivering. "Just make it stop. I'm so sorry."
"I know," Skulduggery whispered, resting a hand on Erskine's shoulder. As expected, he flinched, but thankfully he didn't lash out or start screaming. "I know you're sorry. It's okay. You're safe."
Carefully, he shifted next to Erskine and held him close, rubbing his back in comforting circles like he had earlier. There was no protest, no desperate yelling, just continuous sobbing and violent tremors thrumming across his chest. It hurt to see him like this, and Skulduggery wanted nothing more than to take the pain for him.
"No one's going to hurt you," Skulduggery promised. "I'll make sure of it. Do you trust me to do that?"
Erskine just whimpered, wrapped his arms around Skulduggery's waist and cried into his chest. Tears soaked his shirt, but it honestly didn't matter. Shirts could be replaced, and this one was hardly worth getting in a bother about.
"Hey," Skulduggery coaxed, kissing the top of Erskine's head tenderly. "Everything's okay, see? It's just me, and I'm really sorry. I wasn't careful enough, and I hurt you. I'll be more careful from now on. I promise."
"It wasn't your fault," Erskine murmured. "You didn't know how volatile I am."
"I should have, though. Listen, you can dry yourself off. I'll be outside."
"Stay," Erskine said suddenly, his grip on Skulduggery tightening. "Please."
"Are you sure?"
Erskine nodded. "Yes."
Sighing, Skulduggery consented and carefully stood up, Erskine following suit. Skulduggery picked up the discarded towel and held it out to Erskine, who was in the process of pulling his shirt off. Skulduggery had to fight the urge to growl in frustration at the sight of all those scars.
"You do it," Erskine said quietly, catching Skulduggery by surprise.
"Are you sure? I don't want to make things worse."
Erskine nodded. "Like you, I have limits," he explained. "Only I'm not sure where they lie yet."
"So you want to test the waters," Skulduggery finished.
"Yes."
Reluctantly, Skulduggery nodded in consent and gently started rubbing the towel across Erskine's back in calming circles, drying off the slick coating of water that covered his skin. The gold-eyed mage tensed momentarily, but when Skulduggery wrapped a protective arm around his torso, he relaxed, allowing Skulduggery to continue. He was pulled close to Skulduggery's chest when his back was dry, and the towel was moved to his front.
"You okay?" Skulduggery asked as he continued to mop away the water.
"I'm fine," Erskine murmured, leaning back into Skulduggery's embrace. He frowned. "You're so thin. I can feel your ribs."
The calming motions of the towel slowed, but didn't stop. "I'll be alright," Skulduggery said. "I'm still recovering, remember?"
Once Erskine's chest was completely dried off, both men exited the bathroom, and Erskine immediately pulled on a black turtleneck, making sure the collar obscured the scars on his neck.
"You keep hiding those," Skulduggery mused, bringing Erskine into a tender hug. "Why?"
Erskine fell silent for a moment, shame and apprehension evident in his eyes. "I'm not proud of them," he whispered. "They're reminders."
Skulduggery nodded in understanding and leaned in for a kiss. It was brief, but enough to tell Erskine that everything was okay, and he didn't need to delve further into the memories.
"It's okay, love. It's okay."
Is it safe to come out yet?