Disclaimer: G.I. Joe and all associated characters and concepts are property of Hasbro Inc. and IDW comics. I'm just one of a large family of fans who likes telling family stories – no profit needed, no profit earned.

GATES OF SLEEP by Catwings 1026

You are far from your pack, the wolf said in her mind, breaking a long silence between them. Are you alpha, or mate of the alpha?

Scarlett glanced across from where she leaned against the fallen pine. The wolf, his wound bound with vines and a yarrow poultice, regarded her with those unnerving blue eyes, awaiting her answer. She'd expected him to leave once she'd cleaned and bound his wound – he could move easily now that the moist woundwort had numbed the gash, or at least retreat to his den under the tree to heal – but instead, he had trotted across the clearing to the base of a large rock and sat, watching her steadily.

"I'm a human, not a wolf," she replied. "I don't have a pack."

You carry the scent of many with you, many males. If not your pack, then what?

"My…" How to explain the Joes to a wolf? "My unit. Mostly men."

Your pack. And you carry yourself as an alpha – you are alpha to these men?

"Well, I guess that works as an analogy." She shifted, moving her retrieved crossbow as she did so. "I outrank some of them, if that's what you mean. But I'm not the highest ranking, not the alpha. And I'm not the… mate… of the alpha, either." A quick image of General Hawk flashed across her mind, and she wasn't sure whether the thought made her want to laugh or not. Mate of the alpha? Not in a million years... "A wolf pack is a family unit. My unit, my pack – we're not related."

When a young wolf disperses from its home pack, it may take a mate and build a new pack. You are building a new pack?

"So to speak. But not with a mate... it's more like… a pack of choice. We were invited to join, and we did." The wolf flicked his ears, considering this.

An interesting concept. The silence again. As the twilight under the trees deepened into full night, the form of the wolf became hazy, indistinct – a vague shadow, unmoving. The night-sounds grew – the Swainson's thrush, with its spiralling call; sounded in the distance. The high trill of toads, the quiet shuffling of something, a ways off, snuffling among the leaf-litter and fallen branches.

You are troubled, the wolf said in Scarlett's mind. It wasn't a question. Your spirit is unsettled. Why?

She sighed. "I'm thinking of that… thing. I feel like I should know what it was. Like I've seen it before. It's there, just out of reach…" She shook her head.

It is not the chimera that troubles you. replied the wolf. Scarlett looked at him sharply.

"Chimera?"

You know its name. You brought it here.

The image of Chimera-the-man, eyes wild with rage, that makeshift mask, leaped into her mind's eye… she shuddered, blocking the memory, closed her eyes. Given the choice between flame-breathing monster and man, she preferred the monster. Its brutality, at least, was entirely animal.

Why do you fear the man who hides his face? the wolf wanted to know.

"Stay out of my head!" she snapped, glaring now. The wolf, canine face inscrutable, did not so much as flinch.

I am not "in" your head. I can simply touch the images you send – like reading a scent. You thought of the chimera, then strongly of the man who hides his face.

"They have the same name. That's all."

If you say so. The wolf rose, stretched, and paced closer to her, sitting once more just out of arm's reach. He hurt you? This man-chimera?

She thought of Snake Eyes then, of how he'd appeared out of nowhere… coming up behind Chimera, just as she'd flung the solvent…

She forced the image from her mind, but not soon enough to block the mental sound of a pistol's report, not soon enough to drive out the image of Snake Eyes's head bursting into flames…

Somewhere far off, something roared, and she startled, fumbling for her bow… the sound was distant, but very much there. She settled once more, but every muscle was tensed.

So many monsters…

A soft bump jogged her arm, the pressure of something warm and broad, and she turned to find the blue eyes of the wolf staring into her own.

You will call the beast, thinking like that. And you cannot fight it. If you fight, you will not win.

Before she could reply, the wolf was circling in place, lowing himself beside her. She could feel the muscle of his body beneath the fur, the warmth of his pelt companionably close. Unconsciously, she reached out, buried her fingers in the mass of fur at his neck, taking some comfort from that.

You are not to blame for the harm that came to your friend.

"I am, though. If it hadn't been for me, he wouldn't have been there..." Her fingers tangled in the fur, gripping it at the memory.

Not so. He made his choice. He would run with his pack, or not at all.

And that much, at least, was true. They had left Snake Eyes behind. He hadn't been part of the mission, not from the first... it hadn't even been something to consider; nobody had asked Snake Eyes himself how he felt about the decision. He had to heal, doctor's orders, and none of them had thought any less of him for that. But still, when the general had discovered that the mission had been compromised, he had managed to follow them, unordered, on his own reconnaisance... God only knew how...

And if he hadn't, things would have turned out quite differently for her.

Your friend knew his heart. He knew his place was with his pack... a pack stands together, even the wounded. 'The pack is the strength of the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.'

"The Law of the Jungle." She remembered that from long, long ago... from her grandfather reading Kipling's The Jungle Book aloud before bedtime. She'd loved the stories of the man-cub raised as a wolf, able to speak to all jungle creatures... the memory warmed her, somehow.

Rest, the wolf said in her mind. I will be your pack and guard you through the night. When you wake, you must face your chimera.

- To Be Continued -