It is my theory, judging by the little interaction that we see between Cochise and his father during the show, that Cochise has some serious daddy issues. Also, we know that his brother is dead, and I've seen, first hand, the kind of obstacle that can be between a parent and the still-living siblings. So this chapter came into my imagination, and thusly unto my computer, and thusly downloaded unto this site.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and I never shall, for I am naught but a lowly college student.

"Many Teeth"

A goat –Cochise would admit that he still wasn't over the oddness of those animals– had been torn to pieces. It would have been a gruesome sight, were Cochise not so steel-stomached, but it upset him at a different level. Bones were crushed and flesh was torn; this he did not flinch from, but he did not like the look of the teeth marks left behind. They were deep and narrow and many in number, and far too big to be any of the wild animals he had been warned of.

Tom Mason stood beside him, boots muddy after full day of trekking back and forth through the wet streets. He frowned deeply, staring down at the goat's cracked-open skull. It was a gruesome sight, not that Cochise was bothered, although he didn't see this specific sort of violence often. A Mech would blow a hole in you, and a Skitter could maul you to death, but tear you apart? Not that he had ever seen, no.

"This is not the work of a Skitter," Cochise supplied, hoping to be useful in what was, frankly, a completely foreign situation to him.

Tom scratched the back of his head, sighing. "Yeah, I know. Weaver thinks that it's dogs."

A dog was an animal, Cochise knew, but he could not recall ever seeing one. At least, not that he knew of. There were a number of Earth-creatures he had seen but did not know the names of, just as there were many he knew the names of but had never seen. "Dogs?"

"Wild ones," Tom confirmed with a curt nod. "I'm surprised we haven't run into this before, honestly."

"I thought that dogs were domesticated animals."

"They're meant to be," Tom sighed, looking frustrated. He scuffed the ground with his boot; a habit, Cochise noticed, that was more likely to show itself when Tom was unsure about a situation. "But without people to keep them domesticated, some of the more aggressive breeds are becoming a problem. We might as well have a pack of wolves, except this is worse. Wolves would keep their distance. These dogs aren't scared of humans."

They stayed silent for a while, Tom contemplating and Cochise cataloging this new information. Evening was coming fast, Cochise saw, judging by the dimming and deepening of the sky. He caught hints of orange streaking the blue and recognized the beginnings of a kaleidoscope sunset, a sight that no other planet provided quite as vibrantly as Earth did. Well, there was Ovasan, but that planet was uninhabitable and, as a human might call it, hellish. Certainly not worth the view.

Finally, Tom spoke again. "I'll stay out tonight. They'll probably come back tonight, and when they do, I'll pick off as many as I can and hope the rest will be too scared to come back."

"I will stay with you."

Whatever had possessed him to say that, Cochise didn't know. He also didn't know why he repeatedly insisted that he would stay after Tom told him that it wasn't necessary, but he did do it, and he found himself bunking down on the bare ground (and he also found himself not minding any of it at all).

He and Tom sat side-by-side with their backs against the dented body of a broken-down pickup truck that was bereft of its tires. A rifle lay across Tom's lap, cradled loosely in his mitted in hands with the muzzle in the dirt. Cochise had no weapon on him, but as he understood it, this would not be especially dangerous, and he was serving as more of a look-out than anything else. Tom did not trust himself not to fall asleep, while Cochise knew it would be another full Earth day before he needed sleep. This was, he supposed, a pleasant enough way to spend the night. At least the company was friendly.

As night descended, they talked in hushed whispers about this and that, about books and history and wars that hadn't involved aliens, until Tom's words slowed to a syrupy drip and his breathing shallowed and evened into sleep. Cochise didn't mind. He thought to read from the most recent book Tom had loaned to him, but he found himself distracted.

Cochise's eyes flickered in the darkness, catching the moonlight in their reflection. He was fond of the moon. He found it odd that humans called their moon the moon, as if theirs was the only moon. That aside, it was a beautiful example of a natural satellite. Most moons were not so perfectly round as this one, nor were they usually scarred in a way that was so aesthetically pleasing (then again, maybe that was bias on Cochise's part, seeing as he was actively determined to find as much pleasing about Earth as he could). Yes, Cochise thought, as Earth was his favorite planet, Earth's moon was his favorite of all moons. Except that it needed a proper name, but that was beside the point.

Cochise's examination of the night sky was cut short by a faint rustle in the dry grass.

A black-and-brown shape stepped quietly into the open, and something about it triggered an old fear in Cochise, reminiscent of fearing the dark. It was lean, with a narrow muzzle and upright ears and eyes that caught the light. The mouth opened and out lolled a pale, frothy tongue, but Cochise was more focused on the yellow-tinged teeth. It was doubtful that such teeth could do him any serious damage, but still, that instinctual fear was creeping back up on him, that child's need to stay close to his parents because this was one of those shapeless, red-eyed monsters in the dark.

"Tom," Cochise whispered harshly, squeezing his companion's elbow, "Tom Mason."

The human stirred. "Hm?"

Eyes -redredredredred- flashed towards Tom, and that wide maw opened in a snarl that flashed teeth and foamy spittle. Cochise's first and second hearts jerked in his chest.

A noise like thunder cracked the air.

Cochise would never understand how a human could go from practically inert to completely alert in only seconds, but he was seeing it right in front of him. Tom's eyes were shining with the moon and the rush of excitement. The rifle was poised in his hands, the trigger held tight under his finger and the butt steadied against his shoulder. Cochise's eyes followed the polished black barrel to find the awkwardly bent corpse of what had to be a dog. The coppery scent of blood made Cochise's nostrils flutter, and even though he knew that the dog had been killed before it reached Tom, he couldn't help but give the human a once-over for injuries. Dog-blood and human-blood smelled much the same.

"Well, that's one down that we won't have to worry about," muttered Tom, his voice thick with sleep. He set the gun aside and stretched with a yawn, but not before catching a glance of Cochise out of the corner of his eye. "Hey. You okay?"

"I am..." Cochise was afraid, was what he was, but he didn't want Tom to know that. He didn't want anyone to know that, but he held Tom Mason in high regard, which only made his shame more poignant. He did not want this man who he called friend to see him as lesser. "I was startled."

An understatement. Cochise wanted to let his control ease so that he could pant off the fear that was still tingling and stinging his ribcage, but ages of training wouldn't allow for it.

"You, startled?" Tom made a chuffing sound that Cochise realized was soft laughter. "I don't believe it. You're always so... collected."

Pride filled Cochise at the praise, but only for a moment. "An illusion, I am afraid."

Tom made a gravelly hum low in his throat. He nudged the dog with his boot, frowning.

"Holy– wow." Tom blinked and pushed himself over to it to get a closer look. "That's not a dog. That's a wolf. I've never seen one before."

Cochide knew what a wolf was. He also knew that they weren't to be found anywhere near Charleston. "A wolf? Here?"

"There aren't as many people; whole cities are abandoned. I guess a lot of wild animals are gonna start spreading out. Or maybe it's just from a zoo." Running a hand over the dead wolf's fur, Tom smiled. "Man, when I was a kid, I loved these things."

"You loved... this?" Cochise repressed a shudder. If he never saw a creature like this again, he would be happy. His natural instincts had been repressed over the years in favor of military training, but something about this animal made his gut roll. He scraped his tongue against his teeth, attempting to rid his mouth of the sour aftertaste of fear.

"There's something wrong with this one," Tom said, carefully prying open the wolf's mouth. The flesh that should have been pink was dull yellow and coated with blood-flecked froth. "They're not supposed to be like this."

Cochise didn't really care. He was just glad that it was dead, and hoped that there weren't more of them around. He looked away, trying to regain his usual composure.

"Hey."

Cochise looked back at Tom, who stood up. He was not sure if he liked the look in Tom's eyes. He had seen it before, usually directed towards Tom's son, Hal, and occasionally the one called Weaver. There was nothing wrong with it, that expression that spoke volumes of compassion and sympathy and understanding about that which was not said aloud, but Cochise felt uncomfortable with it being directed at him. It seemed… misplaced. He was an officer; he was not to be given understanding. There was no compassion for mistakes or flaws when such flaws could kill your comrades. There was no sympathy for a soldier caught off his guard, for that soldier endangered everyone. There was no understanding for emotions such as fear.

And yet, here was Professor Tom Mason, a scholar and an alien and a father, telling Cochise exactly what he needed to hear.

"It's okay. You're okay."

And Cochise discovered that those words were, for the first time in a long time, true.

That's all, folks. I have a couple ideas for more chapters after this, but you're free to make suggestions. Please review. As I write fics for the sake of practicing my writing, I would love some feedback on my work.