Geoffrey kept staring at his reflection like it was going to change, like he wasn't going to see the

dark, spider-like veins around his eyes. He considered not opening his mouth, not checking,

living in blissful ignorance for as long as he possibly could. The hunter sighed, he needed to

know, ignoring the problem wasn't going to work. His hands were shaking as he placed them on

the dresser and looked back up into the mirror. His gaze was stuck on the look of his eyes, and

he'd just mustered the guts to open his mouth when there was another knock on the door.

Geoffrey turned around, almost relieved to be able to ignore the problem for a little while longer.

"Come in!" he said, compromising with himself and touching his tongue to his eyeteeth. For a

brief second, he swore they felt longer but he'd had plenty of nightmares of this sort before and

he was nearly certain that it was his imagination. It was enough to quell the sick feeling in his

stomach, at least enough that he can handle whatever emergency was knocking at his door.

The door opens and he can see Charlie poking her head in before actually entering the room.

Woman could face down a feral Skal without blinking but walk into a room with in improperly

dressed man? She'd rather die of embarrassment it seemed. She muttered some form of

apology about interrupting but McCullum waived her off before she could finish.

"What do you need?" he asked, leaning back against the dresser and crossing his arms.

"Lloyd sent me sir; he's got the local info to correlate and map out, and I thought I'd bring you a

cuppa while I was at it. Looks like you need it, you look tired sir." She had a large stack of

papers in one hand and a cup in the other.

"That's what happens when you have the daylights beat out of you." Geoffrey scoffed, frowning

at the papers that she set on his desk and taking the cup gratefully. Charlie winced as his hand

grazed hers in the transfer.

"Yeesh, your hands are freezing." She said, pressing the cup into his hands more firmly and

McCullum just barely restrained laughing at her mother henning, she never liked it being pointed

out. Brought up bad memories, she said.

"Sorry, was just washing my face." He gestured to the basin with his head, the water was room

temperature but that didn't exactly make it warm. "Anyway," he held the cup closer to his chest,

enjoying the way the warmth of it seeped into his fingers and the steam tickled his face, "why

the papers, we have to start buckling down on the leech doctor, we need to start formulating a

plan."

Charlie shook her head, and he could tell that she was prepared for his outburst, so he tried to

reign it in, it wasn't her fault that she was the messenger…

"I'm sorry sir, Lloyd said that compiling the movements on known leeches and correlating with

unexplained deaths would help us to set plans. Not!" she raised a finger "Just for the doctor, but

for any other pests we're looking to take care of in the long term. This is something we need to

do so we can plan more appropriately. Lloyd said that you should continue to take it easy today

since you're still getting over the fever and the fight. A fight that you're lucky to have walked

away from, might I remind you." She said giving him her best motherly glare. One that even

Geoffrey had to admit was pretty intimidating. McCullum sighed and blew on the tea, holding it

closer to his face, it was a good argument, but Reid was still out there, doing God knows what…

"When did Lloyd go about making himself commander?" he scoffed, taking a tentative sip of the

tea, it was still scalding hot, and Charlie couldn't make a good cup for the life of her but he

hoped the intake of a normal drink and some warmth on his insides would help ease some of

his worries. It doesn't sit easy in his stomach but it's not coming right back up so he called that a

success.

"When you went to go make a martyr of yourself fighting with that leech doctor." Charlie

snapped. Geoffrey found himself looking up when she said it. There was genuine worry on her

face, and wasn't that the worst part… They all knew that this job came with risks. They knew

that. This wasn't a job you got to take a nice retirement from, especially when you were the

public face of it and still he could tell that if he hadn't come back they all would have stumbled,

would have needed time to recoup. And perhaps Ascalon would have taken advantage of that

and perhaps they wouldn't, and maybe he was the king of France… He sighed and set the mug

down and picked up the top paper, it was a summary of what all needed to be collated, at least

he knew what all should be here.

"Well, at the very least he'll make sure that every scrap of junk that passes through this building

will be written down." McCullum said dryly. "I'll see if I can't get this in a sensible order tonight,

go do what you need to Charlie."

The Guard nodded, a bit stiffly and was most of the way out the door before she paused.

"Do you want me or whoever's in the kitchen to bring you a bite to eat?"

"I'll start with the tea, I'll need an excuse to stretch my legs in a bit." He said as excuse, if he

was being honest he needed to be sure the tea was going to stay down first. Charlie nodded

and disappeared, the door closing behind her in a soft click. Geoffrey glanced at the mirror and

decided that appeasing his anxiety could wait and instead settled behind his desk, spreading

the map in front of him.

Once he got into the steady rhythm of it things started to fall nicely into place, checking through

bits of the paper on obituaries and police reports that they were able to beg off their informant

on the inside. Lloyd wasn't wrong, this was something that needed to be done. It usually helped

them confirm their personal numbers on the number of leeches in the city and identify if there

were newcomers. If there were rashes of Skals that could be dealt with before their numbers

could propagate. But hells if it wasn't mind-numbing after a while. Not to mention that the

Influenza was muddying the waters, the city's own reporting was behind in death counts and

what they attributed cause to was sometimes not mentioned in the slightest. It made for a lot

less reliable data than they usually liked to work off of. No wonder he'd found himself jumping to

conclusions… for all that all of them hated doing this work it kept them more accurate in their

hunts.

That… unfortunately didn't make it any less boring. Geoffrey reached for the mug at the edge of

his desk and frowned as his hand came in contact with the cold porcelain. He picked it up and

looked inside, dithering on if it was worth drinking the cold liquid or not. Looking out the window

still showed the middle of the night, someone was likely in the kitchen who could brew a

serviceable cup and it would probably do him some good to get some food. He could tell that he

was hungry despite the faint nausea churning in his stomach. This was always the worst part of

feeling ill, when you had rounded the corner but the rest of your body hadn't quite gotten the

memo yet. The commander set the mug down and stretched leisurely, feeling some of the

stiffness let go of his limbs before getting to his feet. Everything was still the slightest bit shaky

and weak feeling but significantly better than he'd been the previous evening when he'd made it

up the stairs. He at least felt as though he could make it on his own instead of having to rely on

someone else for help, that didn't make arriving in the kitchen unaided not feel like an

accomplishment, however.

Harrison was on duty today, stirring something that looked a smelled stew-like and Geoffrey

was treated to a strange combination of sensations in his stomach as it churned and reminded

him that he was hungry at the same time. The rookie looked up from the pot and blinked in

surprise at the figure in the doorway.

"Sir! I, sorry I didn't hear you come down. How are you feeling?" Harrison asks, knocking the

spoon clumsily against the pot and setting it down on the plate clearly set aside for this very

task. He's working one handed, the other tied to his chest with a sling, probably why he's on

kitchen duty to begin with, though McCullum can't recall how the rookie got hurt. He scowls at

the implication that the entire crew knows that he's been laid up, gossip worse than

grandmothers sometimes he swears.

"Fine, been collating some intelligence." he grumbles, digging through the cupboard for a clean

bowl. He's going to at least make an attempt at the stew, maybe he can just force his system to

take it. Harrison nods amicably, stepping out of the way so McCullum can take a scoop out of

the pot. He does so, trying not to take too much, he can always come back down for more if he

manages to eat what he has. Harrison tries to ask him something else but the commander

waves him off, taking the bowl and a freshly cleaned spoon back up to his room.

He glares at the piles of papers for a moment as though that will make them go away before

sighing and clearing some space to put the bowl down. His eyes catch on a report that he hadn't

looked through yet and he sits down, scanning it and before he knows it he's three layers deep

again and it's been some indeterminate amount of time and he still hasn't paused to try to eat.

Geoffrey sighs, forcibly pushes the papers back and presses the heels of his hands into his

eyes. When they quit stinging he blinks away the blurriness and looks over at the stew. It's not

steaming anymore but the spoon is still warm to the touch when he picks it up, that's a good

sign. McCullum pointedly ignores all the papers for the moment, stirring the spoon around for a

moment before taking a solid scoop and popping it in his mouth before he can think about it for

too long.

It's not as warm as it had been when he brought it up and rather bland, really Harrison is too

timid in the kitchen, but it's not awful. The hard part is convincing his stomach that it's food and

he needs it. Because despite the fact that this is about at inoffensive as stew gets this is still

turning his insides and making his tongue feel like lead in his mouth. He forces himself to chew

and swallow and pauses, trying to fight through the threatening feeling through sheer force of

will. He succeeded but didn't have the strength to try for another bite. Instead he just glared at

the bowl, hoping that if he stared hard enough his nausea would dissipate. When it inevitably

didn't work McCullum sighed and moved the bowl over to his nightstand, perhaps in a bit he

could try again but for now there was nothing else to do but keep working…

The next thing that Geoffrey was aware of, it was a hand on his shoulder and discomfort in his

neck. He blinked, feeling the crustiness in the corners of his eyes that indicated that he'd been

asleep. Well… shit, he hadn't meant to do that… He sat up slowly, wincing at the stiffness in his

back and looked at who had come up to wake him. Lloyd gave him a worried look and Geoffrey

waved him off.

"I'm fine." He said before the other could ask. "Paperwork just put me to sleep." He explained.

"Well you should at least move to the bed." The older man said.

"Nah, I'm up now, I can-"

"McCullum, get in bed, the sooner you sleep this off the sooner you can get back in the field and

we can go after that doctor." Lloyd interrupted him, starting to pick up the papers from right in

front of McCullum's face. "See you've gotten more done than I thought you would, you deserve

a nap for it, go to bed."

Geoffrey frowned heavily at the man, but his logic was sound and he was tired. He sighed and

got slowly to his feet, trying to stretch out his back and roll his shoulders, God sleeping on his

desk never did him any favors.

"Alright, alright, but you owe me a report first thing in the evening." He said, fixing Lloyd with a

stare that was meant to be intimidating but actually likely just tired.

"Of course sir, just promise me you'll actually get some rest." The older man said, sounding

more placating than he probably meant to, Geoffrey decided to let it slide for now and waved

him off, wandering over to his bed, ready to fall face first into it. Lloyd closed the door quietly

behind himself and left the commander alone with his thoughts. McCullum pulled his shirt over

his head and tossed it over the back of his chair, sitting down on the bed to pull his boots off.

Something tickles at his nose, smelling… off in the same way that the bin does when it's sat too

long. He makes a face, trying to figure out where the smell is coming from before realizing that

it's the bowl that he'd left on the bedside table. No wonder he couldn't stomach it, if Harrison

was putting something in there that was on the questionable side of its shelf life… Geoffrey

resolves to ask him about it when he wakes back up and opens the window to dump the

remainder out. How were they supposed to function if whoever was on kitchen duty was going

to give everyone food poisoning? He sighed, shivering as he closed the window, it was

dastardly cold out there, the single gust of wind that made it in before he closed back up biting

right to the bone. McCullum shivered and pulled an extra blanket out of the cupboard, it was old

and moth bitten but all the good ones were in use and if he threw it over the top of his usual one

it wouldn't be so bad. He piled the blankets on top of himself and shivered again, perhaps when

he woke up he'd be feeling better…

-Face your Fears-

Geoffrey felt himself come awake all at once, startling out a dream that he couldn't quite

remember, something with sword in hand again but he couldn't recall any other details. Not that

he could focus on the dream with how cold he was. It was nearly all he could think about, was

the cold and the icy shock of each breath into his lungs despite the blankets piled up over top of

him. He blinked a couple times, looking around the room in the dark monochrome of nighttime.

Lloyd must've let him oversleep, bastard. Geoffrey considered going back to sleep to spite him

but knew that that would just cause more concern to fall over him and that was the last thing he

needed. Instead he sat up, pulling the blankets with him and not liking that the cold sensation

came with him. His stomach cramped, reminding him that he hadn't actually eaten anything

solid in the past couple days at least and he shivered. So much for feeling better in the

morning… McCullum grumbled but there was nothing else to do but get up, he wouldn't prove

anything by sitting here and feeling sorry for himself.

Maybe he really was on the mend because beyond feeling hungry and cold his limbs weren't

aching anymore and he felt pretty steady on his feet. He stretched his arms over his head,

enjoying the sensation of everything loosening. Glancing around he found that someone had

taken care of his clothes, the dirty collected and taken away, minus his coat, no one else was

confident enough to take all of the items out of the various pockets. He started to dig through his

drawers to find something suitable to wear, setting it aside and pouring fresh water into the

basin to wash his face, still shivering at the chill in the air. Feeling a bit cleaner he blindly groped

for the towel and dried his face off and glanced in the mirror.

He was still dreaming. He had to be. There was no other explanation for the strange dull glow

that he could see in front of him. Pinching his arm and slapping his cheeks did nothing to bring

him back to reality, just proved that the glow was coming from him, somehow as it followed his

movements and if he looked directly at his hands he could see it. Geoffrey looked closer, trying

to make any sense of what he was seeing, it wasn't just an allover thing, it was… threading and

winding and gave the occasional pulse in a slightly brighter burgundy. He traced the lines to

where it was brightest right… where… his chest was. McCullum paused. He had avoided it

yesterday, but clearly ignoring it wasn't going to make it go away. Time to face his fears.

Geoffrey looked back up, trying to see past the red in his face, instead looking at the

monochrome of his skin in the foreground.

It was damned hard to see anything like this, he realized as he squinted in the looking glass,

he'd pulled his lips back from his teeth but was having difficulty telling the difference between

the teeth, let alone whether some of them weren't shaped right. He closed his eyes, pinching

the bridge of his nose and shook his head before opening them again. The strangeness had

faded for the moment and… he could see them. The fangs. His hand was trembling as he

reached up to touch them, to make sure that it was real and not a hallucination. They didn't

budge when he pressed on them, solid and a little slick with spit. McCullum took several

unsteady steps back, slumping onto the bed when his knees hit it and just… stared at his

hands. His breathing was shaky, like there wasn't enough air in the air and the tremor in his

fingertips was enough to be visible.

How… did this happen? He was always so careful, meticulous about covering his mouth and

nose when out fighting. Had someone poisoned him? Some strange sort of revenge? But…

when would that have happened, he hadn't left base in several days now, the last thing of note

was… It had to be the doctor, somehow, he had no idea how, particularly since if it was Reid it

wasn't intentional. Was… that why he'd left Geoffrey alive? That had to be it, somehow the

bastard had known and left him alive to suffer the change on his own. His vision goes all funny

again and a shiver works its way down his spine. Well… he has a short list of guesses what he's

seeing now then.

The worst part of it is that other than feeling cold and hungry he doesn't feel any different. It's

not even an all-consuming, blinding hunger, just reminding him that he hadn't really eaten

anything over the past day. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Why had it been so

slow? All of what they knew said that it took a day at the most, it had been several and he had

just noticed now. Logically he knew that he should turn himself over, let justice take its course, it

had been an accident, the boys would make it quick, he knew that much. But… but he had

already had a glimpse of what would happen if he just up and died. Priwen would take time to

recover, they would stumble in their mission, would devolve into the gang that he already felt

like he was clawing their way away from. He swallowed, shivering again, what was he thinking?

Was he really considering just keeping this from everyone? Risking everyone's lives just to save

his own miserable skin?

McCullum opened his eyes again and his vision had returned to normal once more. He sighed,

at the very least he was going to get dressed before he called Lloyd up here to face the music.

He had a brief moment of confusion as he pulled his clothes on, wondering if they'd been using

a stronger soap before realizing it was just his sense of smell now and frowned at the thought. Well at least he wasn't going to get used to them… the thought formed a pit in the center of his stomach. Best not to dwell on it, he supposed and ran his fingers through his hair to straighten it up and was about to head out the door when there was a gentle knock against it. Geoffrey took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare for what was about to happen. It didn't

exactly help but it was all he was going to get. He looked back up at the door, sitting down on

the bed, hopefully to appear less threatening, he'd like whoever it was to pause long enough for

him to give his last words and make it quick and clean, not a panicked tussle in his room.

"Come in." he said. The door creaked open and Ross came in. Geoffrey could smell the bitter

bite of medicine and the sharp tang of alcohol and a musty smell that he realized by how tired

and rumpled Ross looked was the other man, or his clothes. He must've been working all day,

hadn't gone home or crashed in the bunks, instead trying to work through… something. It was

strange. Stranger still was how his vision dipped into that greyed out wash, the other man

illuminated in a brilliantly bright scarlet, and Geoffrey could feel his mouth flood with saliva. He

looked down at his own hands, trying to force his vision back to normal. He needed to hold onto

things long enough to settle his affairs. McCullum grit his teeth, nearly flinching when he could

feel the fangs poking at his gums. There was a muffled sound and then a hot hand on his

shoulder and he did flinch this time. His vision faded back to normal and he looked up at Ross,

blinking and trying not to stare at the pulse that he could see tick-tick-ticking away in the other

man's throat.

"Sir?" Ross asked, he was looking at him in concern, but he wasn't shouting for someone else

to come up, he wasn't acting as though Geoffrey was going to leap up and eat him. McCullum

blinked slowly, confused as Ross took a step back and looked him up and down.

"Sir, I asked if you were feeling any better, but based on that response, I'm going to go with no."

Ross said, crossing his arms. "I had hoped that you would have kicked whatever was going

through your system by now, but that's alright, better that you actually get some rest for once."

The medic turned his back on him, like his commander was just ill, like he was the same as he'd

always been, not a monster, and grabbed a tray that Geoffrey hadn't noticed he'd sat down on

the desk. He could smell the broth and the tea that were on it and it made his throat want to

close and his stomach twisted uncomfortably.

"I…" Geoffrey paused, confused, couldn't Ross tell what was happening or was he just trying to

be polite? "Could you go get Lloyd? I have something I need to discuss with him."

Ross frowned at him, but nodded, setting the tray on the bedside stand and left the room.

Geoffrey tried to take a deep breath but paused to grit his teeth as the cloying fatty smell of the

broth clung to the inside of his nose. Before he could think any further on it he opened the

window and dumped it, he was at least going to go out not smelling something that made him

want to be sick. It wasn't particularly long and then Lloyd opened the door after a brief,

perfunctory knock to let his commander know that he was entering. The older hunter pulled out

the chair by the desk and sat down in it, looking at McCullum with something like concern.

"Sir? Ross said that you wanted to speak with me?" he said. Not going for a stake, or his gun, or

even a cross. Just… sitting there, like nothing was wrong. Geoffrey opened and closed his

mouth a couple times, trying to find words.

"He did warn me that you were clearly still ill, if it's just let me know that you need someone to

hold command for the evening, don't worry, I was already on it, Roger's on his feet again and is

taking lead on the patrols in Whitechapel, it'll be tough with all the Skals that are cropping up,

but they're smart, they'll make due." Lloyd paused then, looking down at the notes that he'd brought up. He raised a brow at Geoffrey, like he was just waiting for a response. Like he'd

guessed what the problem was. But he couldn't be farther from the mark.

"I… you haven't noticed?" was all McCullum could manage dumbly.

"Noticed what? That you're not pitching a fit about being confined to inside? Of course I've

fucking noticed, which means that you're either feelin' worse than you're letting on, or you've

finally learned that trying experimental weapons have consequences. But, and forgive my

forwardness, since you're a stubborn ass who insists on throwing himself into danger headfirst

every chance he gets, I'm going with the former. So the very least I could do is not rub it in and

step up to take care of things while you're resting." Lloyd was grumbling and the bags under his

eyes indicated how much taking over leadership while Geoffrey was out of commission was

grating at him but that wasn't any excuse for him not having realized what had happened. Ross

he could forgive, the man spent far more time here patching everyone up than he did out in the

field, but Lloyd? The older guard had been the one to teach Geoffrey how to spot leeches when

Carl had been too busy leading to take the time. He should know. McCullum took an extra

moment to compose himself, thought for a moment

"Send someone else with Roger, Whitechapel's a mess right now, and let me know if there's

any sightings of the doctor, I'm not done with him." Geoffrey said

"While you're still recovering you are, but understood. Anything else?" the other man stood stiffly

and had the door open, looking over his shoulder. McCullum thought about saying something,

stopped, shook his head.

"No, not right now."

"Very good, I'll see to it that someone brings you something else to eat in a bit." The door closed

solidly behind him and Geoffrey looked over at his mirror. Had he been imagining things? He'd

heard plenty of men spit delirious nonsense while in a fever, and God knows they'd had plenty

of those while the flu raging throughout London. He was still freezing and hungry, but he

wasn't… his vision hadn't greyed out again. But… he didn't think he could imagine the teeth that

he had felt in his mouth. That he could… still feel if he poked around with his tongue. He poked

a finger back into his mouth, unsure of what he wanted to find, wincing as his thumb slipped and

he felt the sharp tooth cut straight through. He didn't think anything of sucking on the digit, at

first intent to just get the bleeding to stop, just like any papercut or hangnail he'd gotten in his

life.

What wasn't normal was the shock that ran through every nerve as the taste hit his tongue, or

the way his stomach clenched with want. The taste disappeared soon enough and he pulled his

finger from his mouth, looking at the scabbed over and sealing skin. Maybe he wasn't losing his

mind after all… he needed to get out of here… he needed to find the doctor, wring every scrap

of answers out of him.

There was no way that Lloyd or anyone else downstairs was going to let him walk out of here in

the middle of the night. It wouldn't be the first time that he'd stubbornly walked out after taking a

beating, and, in their opinion, not having healed up enough first. It also wouldn't be the first time

that he'd just gone out the window instead. It wasn't an easy time maneuvering out, especially

with a sword, but it was an easy little hop from the window ledge to the fire escape of the

building next door. From there it was just a quick ladder to the ground. Frankly the harder part

was trying to get away from the building without being spotted, but going around the back and

vaulting over a fence and through a backyard was a small price to pay for freedom and,

perhaps, answers.

Geoffrey could tell it wasn't just him, it was damned cold out tonight, the wind biting him to the

bone, disappointing that this whole thing didn't make him immune to cold. Well, an interesting note to hand over before he turned himself in. But in the meantime he was going to get answers. Nevermind the fact that he had no idea where to start. He couldn't go storming up to the Pembroke, not with Swansea gone. That one still stung but there was nothing to do for it now. Despite the cold it felt good to be outside, it didn't feel like he was being cooped up anymore, he'd started to feel that antsy feeling he got when he'd been inside for too long. McCullum paused at an intersection, unsure of where to go until he heard the shriek of Skal, ringing louder than he was used to, his grip tightened on his sword and he grinned, heading out to do what he did best.