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feredarStory: Attacked
Year: 977 FY
Characters: Mel, Kit
Warnings: Aftermath of a werewolf attack, implied sexual assault, suspected date-rape, memory loss, abuse.
Notes: This takes place in the Urban Fantasy AU.
Ow.
Mel blinked hazily as a dull, pale-grey sky, punctuated by what looked like rusty black bars, came into focus above him. Morning. Somewhere.
Something tasted strange at the back of his throat, but his fingers and toes all moved, he could see, and hear distant traffic sounds, and smell. Definitely his sense of smell was working just fine. Better than fine. There was something foul not too far away. He couldn't place it, and it wasn't exactly overpowering, but it permeated everywhere and he couldn't ignore it.
He took a deep breath through his mouth and sat up, as slow and careful as possible, and still kind of regretted it. Everything hurt, hurt as bad as if he'd been run over by a truck or a tank or something, but his back was the worst. Sitting up pulled at it, making it worse. He felt something warm and sticky trickling down, and had a horrible, sickening feeling it was blood. "Ow," he whispered.
He made it all the way up, and his shirt peeled off, held on just by the buttons at the cuffs. He'd worn a nice shirt last night, why had he worn--
He shied away from the memory for the moment. He could figure that out later. First things first, figure out what had happened and how bad he was hurt and where he was and--
He took a deep breath. The pain in his back flared again and he hissed. He unfastened the cuffs and pulled the shirt all the way off. The buttons in the front had held, but the back was shredded, and soaked in blood. Just like he'd suspected. He swallowed back bile, and took another deep mouth-breath, trying to calm down. He finally managed, then pulled it on backwards and looked around, trying to get his bearings.
He was in an alley, somewhere. Hopefully still in the city, but he didn't recognize it. Not specifically, anyway, but most alleys looked like each other, especially in the early morning, just after dawn. More light would help, but he didn't intend to stick around that long, if he could help it.
There was a dumpster--probably the source of that stench--a couple doors, a rusty fire escape on the building to his left, and a thin sliver of dull grey sky above him. He'd woken up under the fire escape, bruised all over and his back apparently shredded. The fire escape explained the black bars, at least. Just not anything else.
He shivered and finally forced himself to replay the night before in his head. School had been normal, he'd stopped by home after and done his homework quick and then changed because...because...
Plans. He'd had plans of some kinds, plans that involved dressing up a bit. He closed his eyes, trying to trace forward.
Right. Yes. A date. He'd gotten dressed up because he'd had a date, with Bill from calculus. The date had been Kirsten's idea. Bill lived in the same apartment building she did. The two of them had grown up together--Mel had only made friends with her two years ago--and thought the two boys would hit it off. Bill had been sort of around for a while, but Mel hadn't ever actually really talked to him. This year was the first they'd had any classes together. Mel hadn't even known Bill liked guys until Kirsten had told him Bill was interested in getting to know him better. Which was nice, actually. Mel hadn't had a serious crush since freshman year, but Bill was definitely cute, and he was one of the smarter kids in their class. Better still, he was interested. Mel wasn't good at asking guys out--hadn't, actually, since that freshman crush which had been a total disaster. So, all in all, even if, on closer inspection, it wasn't going to come to anything, Bill was definitely worth at least one date. Just to see what happened.
It had started out well--James Bond and Bill's favorite pizza place. Mel liked James Bond, and he liked pizza, and he'd found himself liking Bill. He'd liked Bill a lot. Despite the two of them not having any actual extra-curricular activities that overlapped, he'd found out they had a lot of interests in common. And Bill was just as cute up close, and he was funny, and...
And they'd left the pizza place, and...
Mel thought for a minute, and finally remembered leaving. Kit had needed the car, he'd had a job last night, so they'd had to take Bill's, which was when things started going...less well. Bill had wanted to park somewhere quiet--somewhere like this, and Mel had said that was too fast for a first date. Bill had backed off, at least. But he wasn't so charming and funny and cute anymore. He'd been really pissed off and kicked him out of the car. Maybe he'd gotten the wrong impression from Kirsten what Mel was willing to do on a first date and had expectations and--
...did he follow me?
Mel shivered, and looked down at the bloody tears in his shirt. They were made with something sharp, really sharp. Bill hadn't seemed that pissed. But he didn't really know Bill, after all. Kirsten did, and Mel trusted Kirsten--she'd set him up on a dud date after that disaster with his crush three years ago, but it had just been a dud. Nothing in common, guy did nothing but complain about one of his teachers...Kirsten wouldn't have set Mel up with someone actually dangerous. She wouldn't even be friends with someone actively dangerous. And Bill hadn't shown him a knife or anything else that could have torn his shirt up like that, but...
I doubt Kit shows his girlfriends any of his sharps on the first date.
Then again, Kit had different morals and limits than Mel did. Or Kirsten. Or--as far as Mel could tell--Bill. Which was his business. Kit had, since Mom died last year, pretty much let him do what he wanted, as long as he kept his grades decent and got home before--
...fuck.
It was after dawn. Mel had been out all night. He dug through his pockets for his phone--nothing. Gone. So was his wallet. So, in addition to whatever might or might not have happened with Bill, in addition to whatever happened that tore up his shirt and his back and left him bleeding in an alley, he'd gotten robbed.
Kit's gonna kill me.
Mel took a deep breath and pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead. He was pretty sure he'd never been in a worse situation, not even after Mom died and it had been three days before Kit was contacted and had a place set up for them to stay and Mel had had no idea what was going to happen to him or whether he should try to get emancipated or what. That had, until now, been Mel's mental image of the worst thing that could possibly happen to him. At least until he was an adult and on his own again.
But this? This? This was much worse. He was alone in a dirty back alley, probably attacked by his date that was seeming worse and worse by the minute, almost certainly mugged after, his wallet and phone gone, no idea exactly where the alley was or how far it was from home or any other point of reference, no way to prove or be sure who had attacked him, and his older brother was going to be pissed when he finally found him.
If he ever did. Which was seeming less and less likely by the second.
Mel shivered, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath and held it, counting to twenty. Stop. Just...stop. Calm down. Calm down. Even if I lost my cell phone, I can still get in touch with him. Maybe there's someone up who won't freak out when they see me and will let me use their phone. Or...I don't know. There's gotta be a payphone around here somewhere. ...those still exist, right?
He dug through his pockets. He'd been robbed, maybe he couldn't even use a payphone and all his brainstorming would have been for nothing. He felt something metallic and circular and pulled it out for a closer look. He sagged in relief. A quarter. And...yes, there was another. Whoever took his wallet must not have checked his pockets all that thoroughly. They'd missed those. He still had a chance. Two quarters, that meant hope of getting out of here. Two quarters, that'd be enough to call Kit and give him cross streets and beg him for a pickup and then you can yell at me later just come get me please.
Assuming he found a payphone.
That worked.
Mel shook his head, fighting back the renewed swell of panic. He had a plan, he had a means to implement that plan, he couldn't fall apart again now. He took a deep breath. Won't find one back here.
He picked his way out of the alley. The street on the other side was mostly deserted. A few cars parked on the sides, one early morning jogger on their way to what was probably a park close by, not that Mel knew which one so it was no help to him, and--
Yes! Phone!
He waited until the jogger was out of sight--he didn't want to draw attention or have the police called on a bloody teenager who's clearly not from this neighborhood because he just wanted to get in touch with his brother and get picked up and...
He darted across the street without being noticed. He made it. It was even a closed-off booth much to his relief, and he slammed the door behind him.
Please work please work please work...
He picked up the receiver and held his breath, hoping against hope.
"Please insert fifty cents. If you wish to call collect--"
He could have jumped for joy. He pressed the lever about fifty times to make sure it wouldn't cut out on him because it sucked and then slid his precious quarters into the slot, then practically sobbed with relief at the dial tone. He punched in the area code, then froze. For a panicked moment, he couldn't even remember Kit's number, because who the hell remembered individual numbers anymore? He certainly hadn't needed to. Kit's--and everyone else that was important, like Kirsten and a couple other friends from school and a couple places that did delivery when Kit was working late and Mel didn't feel like cooking--those were all stored on his phone.
His phone which was missing.
Mel closed his eyes and took a deep breath and focused. 273-8295. He dialed as fast as he could and waited, holding that breath.
Pick up pick up pick up, please pick up... Kit didn't usually screen his calls, at least as far as Mel know--but, then, Mel had never called his brother from a number he wouldn't recognize.
"Hello?"
OH THANK GOD
Kit sounded extremely annoyed, but he was awake and not too upset and most importantly he'd picked up. Mel fought back the urge to burst into tears, that would just piss his brother off even more, and he needed Kit to help him and not hang up on him and. He took a deep breath. "Kit, Kit it's me, it's Mel, I'm in--"
"Where are you? What the hell happened?"
"I...I don't know, exactly, um, I got...it got...please, can you come get me?"
Kit didn't answer, and Mel's heart sank. He's even more pissed than I thought he's gonna hang up on me and I can't make another call, I don't know how I'm gonna get home if he hangs up on me I don't know what to do I can't please Kit don't hang up on me please...
"Please, Kit, I-I-I-I'm using a payphone and I don't have any more change..."
"A payphone? What the fuck?"
"M-my cell phone's missing, my w-w-wallet too, I can't get home without you picking me up, please..."
Kit was silent for another achingly long handful of seconds. "Where are you?" he finally asked.
"I'm...um." Mel peeked out of the booth, and there was a street sign, easy to find, so he didn't run out of time or money or anything important like that. "I-I'm at the corner of Tenth and Seventy-Second."
"The hell are you--nevermind." Kit sighed. "I'll be there in a half-hour. Then we're gonna talk."
"Yeah. Yeah, okay, I'll--"
"To continue talking, please insert thirty-five cents."
"I don't have thirty-five cents!" he wailed at the presumably nice pay phone lady who was nonetheless interrupting a conversation that could damn well save his life and--
Dial tone.
Mel managed to restrain himself from smashing the receiver. Kit was coming, he'd managed to get through to him, that was the most important thing. He would be out of here and safe at home before he knew it. Kit always looked out for him, there was no reason this time would be any different. Even if Kit was pissed, Kit would get him home. Because he was his brother and Kit didn't put up with anyone messing with him.
Now he just needed to find a place to wait without being seen or arrested.
He very, very gently put the phone back on the hook, and wavered for a minute. ...I could just stay in here. Read the phone book if I get bored or need distraction or--everyone has cell phones, unless they're dumbasses like me who get themselves robbed, anyway, so no one else is going to need or want to use it... That idea of staying in the little protective, sheltering box was more and more attractive by the minute. He sagged against the wall and then jerked away, immediately regretting it. It hurt, it was probably filthy anyway, he didn't want to get infected and die on top of everything else, and he...and he...
He sat down heavily and hugged his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth a little. He felt something scabbed over on his back separate, and shuddered, blinking back tears. What the hell happened last night?
He took several deep breaths, and then suddenly someone was tapping on the door and he jumped up, his heart jumping even higher and lodging firmly in his throat. Almost without thinking, he grabbed the phone book--it wasn't much, but it was thick and heavy. It might stop a knife and he could bash someone in the head with it and--
What the hell why am I thinking about hitting people?
"Wh-who's out there?" he managed to choke out after a long minute.
"S'me, Mel."
Kit's voice.
Mel could practically hear an angelic choir accompanying it.
He dropped the phone book and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It's been a half-hour already? "O-okay," he said, then pushed the door open.
Kit gave him a long measuring look. "What happened last night?" At least he didn't seem angry anymore. He was really calm, and that was almost scarier. Whatever, he was here and he wasn't yelling. That was all that mattered for the moment.
"I...w-we went to the movie. And dinner, then he...he wanted to pull over somewhere, I said no. He kicked me out of the car, and I..." Mel trailed off.
"Why didn't you call me then?" Kit asked.
...why didn't I call him then? That would've made total sense, and then maybe I wouldn't... Mel closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to remember. "...there was a Starbucks. I was...I was gonna go calm down, have something chocolate, then call you." That made just as much sense. It wasn't usually a good idea to call Kit crying, it just annoyed him. Plus, he probably would've still been at work anyway. Killing time somewhere comforting and public was the best choice Mel could've made, probably. But obviously something else had gone wrong after he'd made that decision, so what...?
"Why didn't you?" Kit asked for him
"I..." He opened his eyes and looked down at his feet. "I don't r-remember..." Which terrified him. Because it meant all sorts of increasingly horrible scenarios--with Bill, with faceless strangers, with something hot and soft and rough and sharp and that made no sense anyway, but...
"Fuck." Mel clung to the interruption with relief; it cut off his nightmarish speculation. Kit sighed. "Did you have a drink?"
He shook his head. "N-no, just a Coke at dinner."
"Don't lie to me." Kit's voice remained even, but the warning was there anyway.
"I'm n-not," Mel insisted. And he wasn't, there wasn't any reason to. Kit didn't care if he had liquor, even though he was underage. As long as he did well at everything that mattered, what he did in his time off was his own business. It was a nice change from Mom, who would have had a hysterical fit if she had even the slightest suspicion Kit had been with someone else who was drinking, let alone if he had been himself.
"Fine. Whatever." Kit sighed again, but at least he seemed to believe him. "Did you leave your drink alone with him at dinner?"
Mel thought for a minute, remembering, then slowly shook his head. "N-no. He went to the bathroom, but I didn't."
"At the theater?"
Another moment to think and piece the evening together. Mel shook his head again, relieved. "Didn't get a drink. Just popcorn. W-we...w-we shared..." Mel knew what Kit was thinking, and it would explain why he was so fuzzy about everything, but Bill wouldn't've drugged something they shared. That didn't make any sense.
Not that the rest of it did, but at least it made sense within itself. Sort of.
"Okay. Come on." Kit grabbed Mel's forearm and tugged him out of the booth. The car was on the corner up ahead, easy to get to within a couple minutes without too many people seeing, much to Mel's relief. They got there, and Kit pushed him into the front seat.
He slid in on the other side and punched up the closest hospital on his GPS. Mel swallowed, dreading the thought of having to go through this again and again, for doctors and maybe police and getting poked and prodded and... "Kit, I don't think I n-need to--"
"You're bleeding all over my car," Kit pointed out calmly. "You don't remember at least five or six hours. You damn well do need to."
Mel flushed and nodded, looking down at his hands. He couldn't exactly argue when Kit put it like that. The car rumbled to life beneath him, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He'd rather be doing anything other than the ordeal of getting medical and maybe legal attention--especially if...
"This kid, Bill. The one you went out with last night," Kit abruptly yanked him out of his thoughts and Mel was painfully grateful to him for it.
"Y-yeah?"
"He goes to your school, yeah?"
Mel nodded. "He's in my math class. Kirsten set us up."
"Uh-huh."
"In four hundred feet, turn left on Seventy-Third Street."
Kit switched off the audio on the GPS and turned on his signal. "What's his last name?"
Mel swallowed. Kit was pissed. At least it wasn't with him, but...if Bill had done something, it wasn't that Mel objected to...not exactly, just...Kit might get caught, and then Mel would be stuck in that other nightmare again. "Why do you want to know?"
"Just answer me."
...he's taking me to the hospital first, and...I guess if...if something did happen, the police'll have to know anyway, and they'll probably find out before Kit gets a chance to...not that I actually think Kit would, he has limits too, I'm sure... Mel shivered. "Johnson. Bill Johnson."
"Johnson. He's in your year? Not one of those math geeks who's ahead?"
"No, he's a senior."
"Okay."
Kit turned into the hospital parking lot and shut off the car. "Come on."
Mel swallowed again, and pushed the door open. Kit grabbed his arm again, as if he thought he would balk at the last minute--which, to tell the truth, Mel wasn't at all averse to and probably would have if not for his brother's looming presence--and pulled him up to the emergency room entrance.
Kit dragged him over to the triage nurse and tapped the desk in front of him, impatient to get his attention. "This is my brother, Mel Artwick. He was attacked last night, he doesn't remember who. Might've got drugged."
The nurse nodded and handed Mel a clipboard with a form on it. "Fill this out. We'll call you back when there's a doctor available."
Mel nodded and found a seat. It wasn't all that crowded, not out here, at least. Which was nice. Sometimes places like this got a little nuts. Or so he'd heard, anyway. Maybe they'd even be in and out in a hurry and he wouldn't have to deal with any of the...
But if Kit had brought him here, he would probably make him anyway.
Mel shut those thoughts aside for the moment. He couldn't do anything about them anyway. He concentrated on the clipboard instead. The form was a pretty standard one--name, age, insurance, reason for visit, allergies, history, and so on--but it took enough focus that Mel didn't have time to try and go back over last night again. At least until after he'd finished. It took him about a half hour, but he had to wait another hour after that--so much for the E.R. not being very crowded.
He started to hug his knees to his chest again--it felt better, other than the tearing, to curl up into a little ball--until Kit glared at him. Right. Probably reopening whatever again. He slowly put his feet back on the floor and closed his eyes, trying to think about something--anything--else.
He might have dozed off for a bit, because the next thing he knew, Kit was pulling him up again, and the clock had jumped forward about ten minutes without his noticing. "They just called you."
Mel nodded, and followed his brother and a guy who was presumably an orderly or something back through a maze of little curtained-off spaces to one at the end of the row.
A young-looking woman--she didn't look much older than Mel was, probably just out of college or something--in grey-green scrubs joined them after a minute or two. "Mel Artwick, right?"
He nodded. "H-hi," he managed. "S'my brother, Kit. H-he can stay, right?"
She nodded. "Of course, if you want him here." She smiled. "I'm Lillian Allerton, I'm an NP. I'm going to check you over, okay?"
"Y-yeah," he said.
She was comfortingly professional about it, at least, with cool hands and a light touch. She kept up a calm stream of dialogue--mostly about what she was doing, occasionally asking him if it hurt or something--the whole time. Mel tuned out most of it, mumbling appropriately--he hoped--when she asked questions. She drew blood--probably to check if he'd been drugged, or was drunk, or whatever. She paused when she reached his back. "...I'll be right back, Mel, okay?"
He blinked, but she must have had a reason for wanting to walk out in the middle of his exam. "Uh-huh."
She flashed a quick smile, then pushed out through the curtain. He heard her footsteps clicking away fast.
Kit seemed annoyed that she was ditching them, but he didn't call her on it and make a scene, at least. "Don't curl up again," he said, without even looking at Mel.
He nodded. Kit was probably right. Comforting as it was, it was probably just hurting him worse in the long run. "I w-won't." He leaned back and closed his eyes. He wasn't really freaking out anymore, just felt numb and tired. And cold. Probably because he'd been bleeding off and on for God alone knew how many hours, but...
Nurse Allerton finally came back, followed by an older man.
"...what's going on?" Kit asked, sounding suspicious and still annoyed. Whether at Nurse Allerton or the stranger or just the whole messed-up situation, Mel couldn't tell.
"Just wanted to confirm something," she assured him.
"I'm Dr. Fuller," the man introduced himself, rather brusquely. "I need to see your back."
Mel nodded and shifted. Dr. Fuller pulled on a pair of gloves and poked at it for a minute, and Mel tried not to flinch. He could feel Kit getting tenser and tenser next to him, but at least it didn't last long, and the poking didn't hurt too badly.
"You were right," Dr. Fuller said, presumably to Nurse Allerton, then peeled off his gloves. "Definitely clawmarks."
...claw...?
"What." Kit said flatly.
"Last night was a full moon," Dr. Fuller reminded them. Still very brusque. Mel hardly had time to process what he was saying before he moved on. "Unfortunately, it looks like your brother crossed paths with an ill-contained lycanthrope."
"What."
Mel's head was spinning. Bill isn't...Bill didn't attack me, he's just an ordinary jerk, not a...I mean, he didn't actually...oh my God...a lycanthrope? Oh...oh God, does that mean I...that means I'm...
"Mel?" Nurse Allerton was trying to get his attention again. From the way Kit was staring at him, she'd probably been trying for a few minutes at least.Dr. Fuller had left at some point, he'd totally missed it.
He flushed, then took a deep breath and looked up at her. "S-sorry. I-I'm...I-I-I'm s-s-sorry. Y-you w-w-were saying s-something?"
She smiled sadly at him. "It'll be okay. You'll be all right, a lot of werewolves live full, ordinary lives--"
"Fuck that," Kit said, abruptly. He was calm again, though. Didn't sound quite so annoyed. Not with his tone, at least. "Just...stitch him up. Do what you're supposed to. Stop talking." He took a deep breath. "I'm his guardian, I'll take the classes and whatever, just tell me where to sign up. I'll handle this."
"...fine," Nurse Allerton said, though her face became strangely unreadable. Mel got the distinct impression she didn't approve of what Kit had just said, but she didn't challenge him. Probably a good thing. Definitely easier for Mel, it would be calmer and get him out faster. This was hard enough without his brother fighting with the hospital people the way he used to fight with Mom.
Oh, God. Mom.
At least she died before this happened...
Mel shivered and resisted the urge to curl up.
The nurse got a suture kit from a drawer in the table. "I'm going to numb the area, all right? Let me know if you feel anything."
Mel nodded, and closed his eyes. He barely felt it while she closed up his back, just a weird pulling sensation. She carefully wrapped him in some sterile gauze, then turned to Kit. "I'm going to write him a couple of prescriptions--antibiotics, painkillers, and something for the nausea. A lot of new-turned werewolves have it, the first week or two."
"Fine. Whatever," Kit said. Now he sounded irritated. Mel was strangely relieved. That icy calm wasn't like his brother.
"There are some papers you need to sign, for the caretaker course, and a release, and so on," she said.
Kit nodded, and waved a hand, dismissing any details with some irritation. "Just show me."
She stood up and held open the door to let him out. Safely taped up, Mel curled tight once they were gone. Nothing tore, and the comfort was more important than that right now anyway, at least where Kit couldn't see. He tasted something acidic, and bitter, and...
Werewolf. I'm a werewolf. I...
"Mel?"
He looked up. Nurse Allerton was back. "...wh-what?" he asked, surprised to see her so soon and without his brother.
"I left your brother filling things out," she said, guessing his other question without needing to be asked directly. "I wanted to give you this." She handed him a card, for a psychiatrist, a Dr. Adelaide Martin. "She runs a support group for werewolves, especially in their first year or so after being attacked. You should go." She smiled briefly at him. "I meant what I said earlier. And...just so you know, a lot of victims black out their attacks. That's probably why you forgot last night. We'll still go ahead and run the tox screen and everything to be sure, and we'll call you with those results as soon as we have them, but..."
Mel nodded. "Th-thanks," he said. That was a relief. The less bad things had happened to him last night, the better he'd feel. He pocketed the card for later.
"Your brother's going to sign you out after he finishes," she said, then handed him a few pieces of paper with his prescriptions. "Get these filled as soon as you can, okay?"
"I will," he promised.
"Good luck," she said, with another quick smile, then slipped out with just a couple minutes to spare before Kit came back.
"Come on," he said, and tossed Mel his jacket. Relieved, Mel pulled it on over the bandages and followed Kit out of the hospital and back out to the car.
They didn't say anything on the way back to the apartment. Mel wasn't sure there was anything to say. Definitely wasn't anything that could change what had...
Anyway. It was an opportunity to doze a little, too. Mel was still...tired wasn't even the right word for it. It was too little, and exhaustion was too much, but...something. It was nice, to close his eyes and just feel the car vibrating beneath him and not think for as long as it took them to get back to their building. Kit shook him awake when they got there, but at least didn't pull him up the stairs like he'd been doing before.
"What did she give you?" Kit asked, once they were inside.
"Prescriptions," Mel answered, just a little evasively, hoping Kit wouldn't call him on it. "I'll...I'm gonna change, then I'll go down to the pharmacy and--"
"Don't lie to me," Kit said, calm again. "What else?"
"Just...just the prescriptions," Mel lied, trying to sound casual and not desperate or afraid. Kit didn't like psychiatrists. And Mel didn't want to lose the card. Not before he had a chance to memorize the number and figure out a way to get in touch with Dr. Martin without Kit finding out.
Kit slapped him. "Don't lie to me," he repeated.
Mel took a deep breath. "I'm not," he insisted, praying Kit would buy it.
"...fine," Kit said, and Mel relaxed. "...look, Mel..."
"Yeah?"
"You're my brother," Kit said, sharp. Somehow, it managed to sound equal parts comforting and threatening.
"Yeah," Mel said.
"Got it?" Kit pressed, clearly not satisfied. "I will get you through this. I will deal with this. But you don't get to make decisions without consulting me. Understand?"
Mel swallowed and nodded. "Understood," he said.
"Good," Kit said. "Go change, then we'll go to the pharmacy."
Mel nodded again. "Okay." He slipped off to his room as fast as he could, then pulled out Dr. Martin's card and studied it, whispering the numbers over and over to himself until he had it firm in his head. He tore it up into tiny pieces, as small as he could, but wasn't sure that would be enough to keep Kit from finding out he'd lied. He hesitated for a second, then swallowed as many of the pieces as he could without choking. He couldn't get all of them, but it should have been enough that even if Kit double-checked when he took out the trash, there wouldn't be any way to figure out whose the card had been or where or when Mel had gotten it. He didn't plan on deciding things without Kit's input, he just...
He needed the option. For whenever the numb shock he was pretty sure was keeping an absolute meltdown at bay faded.
"Mel?" Kit called, and he jumped. He'd taken too long with the card.
"Just a sec," he said, and grabbed the first clean shirt he saw and yanked it on over the bandages. He wriggled out of his dress pants and changed into jeans, then rejoined his brother.
He managed a little smile. "Okay. Let's go."
Kit nodded and let the way outside. Mel took a deep breath and followed. He wanted Dr. Martin as an option. But Kit was right.
Kit was his brother. He'd always looked after him before. There was no way that was going to change now, despite...despite everything. Mel would be okay, in the long run. Kit would make sure of it. He was just territorial enough to do it, when a lot of other people would abandon suddenly lycanthropic dependents.
But not the two of them. Kit would always be there, looking out for him. And if he said it was so, then they'd get through this. Somehow.
Year: 977 FY
Characters: Mel, Kit
Warnings: Aftermath of a werewolf attack, implied sexual assault, suspected date-rape, memory loss, abuse.
Notes: This takes place in the Urban Fantasy AU.
Ow.
Mel blinked hazily as a dull, pale-grey sky, punctuated by what looked like rusty black bars, came into focus above him. Morning. Somewhere.
Something tasted strange at the back of his throat, but his fingers and toes all moved, he could see, and hear distant traffic sounds, and smell. Definitely his sense of smell was working just fine. Better than fine. There was something foul not too far away. He couldn't place it, and it wasn't exactly overpowering, but it permeated everywhere and he couldn't ignore it.
He took a deep breath through his mouth and sat up, as slow and careful as possible, and still kind of regretted it. Everything hurt, hurt as bad as if he'd been run over by a truck or a tank or something, but his back was the worst. Sitting up pulled at it, making it worse. He felt something warm and sticky trickling down, and had a horrible, sickening feeling it was blood. "Ow," he whispered.
He made it all the way up, and his shirt peeled off, held on just by the buttons at the cuffs. He'd worn a nice shirt last night, why had he worn--
He shied away from the memory for the moment. He could figure that out later. First things first, figure out what had happened and how bad he was hurt and where he was and--
He took a deep breath. The pain in his back flared again and he hissed. He unfastened the cuffs and pulled the shirt all the way off. The buttons in the front had held, but the back was shredded, and soaked in blood. Just like he'd suspected. He swallowed back bile, and took another deep mouth-breath, trying to calm down. He finally managed, then pulled it on backwards and looked around, trying to get his bearings.
He was in an alley, somewhere. Hopefully still in the city, but he didn't recognize it. Not specifically, anyway, but most alleys looked like each other, especially in the early morning, just after dawn. More light would help, but he didn't intend to stick around that long, if he could help it.
There was a dumpster--probably the source of that stench--a couple doors, a rusty fire escape on the building to his left, and a thin sliver of dull grey sky above him. He'd woken up under the fire escape, bruised all over and his back apparently shredded. The fire escape explained the black bars, at least. Just not anything else.
He shivered and finally forced himself to replay the night before in his head. School had been normal, he'd stopped by home after and done his homework quick and then changed because...because...
Plans. He'd had plans of some kinds, plans that involved dressing up a bit. He closed his eyes, trying to trace forward.
Right. Yes. A date. He'd gotten dressed up because he'd had a date, with Bill from calculus. The date had been Kirsten's idea. Bill lived in the same apartment building she did. The two of them had grown up together--Mel had only made friends with her two years ago--and thought the two boys would hit it off. Bill had been sort of around for a while, but Mel hadn't ever actually really talked to him. This year was the first they'd had any classes together. Mel hadn't even known Bill liked guys until Kirsten had told him Bill was interested in getting to know him better. Which was nice, actually. Mel hadn't had a serious crush since freshman year, but Bill was definitely cute, and he was one of the smarter kids in their class. Better still, he was interested. Mel wasn't good at asking guys out--hadn't, actually, since that freshman crush which had been a total disaster. So, all in all, even if, on closer inspection, it wasn't going to come to anything, Bill was definitely worth at least one date. Just to see what happened.
It had started out well--James Bond and Bill's favorite pizza place. Mel liked James Bond, and he liked pizza, and he'd found himself liking Bill. He'd liked Bill a lot. Despite the two of them not having any actual extra-curricular activities that overlapped, he'd found out they had a lot of interests in common. And Bill was just as cute up close, and he was funny, and...
And they'd left the pizza place, and...
Mel thought for a minute, and finally remembered leaving. Kit had needed the car, he'd had a job last night, so they'd had to take Bill's, which was when things started going...less well. Bill had wanted to park somewhere quiet--somewhere like this, and Mel had said that was too fast for a first date. Bill had backed off, at least. But he wasn't so charming and funny and cute anymore. He'd been really pissed off and kicked him out of the car. Maybe he'd gotten the wrong impression from Kirsten what Mel was willing to do on a first date and had expectations and--
...did he follow me?
Mel shivered, and looked down at the bloody tears in his shirt. They were made with something sharp, really sharp. Bill hadn't seemed that pissed. But he didn't really know Bill, after all. Kirsten did, and Mel trusted Kirsten--she'd set him up on a dud date after that disaster with his crush three years ago, but it had just been a dud. Nothing in common, guy did nothing but complain about one of his teachers...Kirsten wouldn't have set Mel up with someone actually dangerous. She wouldn't even be friends with someone actively dangerous. And Bill hadn't shown him a knife or anything else that could have torn his shirt up like that, but...
I doubt Kit shows his girlfriends any of his sharps on the first date.
Then again, Kit had different morals and limits than Mel did. Or Kirsten. Or--as far as Mel could tell--Bill. Which was his business. Kit had, since Mom died last year, pretty much let him do what he wanted, as long as he kept his grades decent and got home before--
...fuck.
It was after dawn. Mel had been out all night. He dug through his pockets for his phone--nothing. Gone. So was his wallet. So, in addition to whatever might or might not have happened with Bill, in addition to whatever happened that tore up his shirt and his back and left him bleeding in an alley, he'd gotten robbed.
Kit's gonna kill me.
Mel took a deep breath and pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead. He was pretty sure he'd never been in a worse situation, not even after Mom died and it had been three days before Kit was contacted and had a place set up for them to stay and Mel had had no idea what was going to happen to him or whether he should try to get emancipated or what. That had, until now, been Mel's mental image of the worst thing that could possibly happen to him. At least until he was an adult and on his own again.
But this? This? This was much worse. He was alone in a dirty back alley, probably attacked by his date that was seeming worse and worse by the minute, almost certainly mugged after, his wallet and phone gone, no idea exactly where the alley was or how far it was from home or any other point of reference, no way to prove or be sure who had attacked him, and his older brother was going to be pissed when he finally found him.
If he ever did. Which was seeming less and less likely by the second.
Mel shivered, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath and held it, counting to twenty. Stop. Just...stop. Calm down. Calm down. Even if I lost my cell phone, I can still get in touch with him. Maybe there's someone up who won't freak out when they see me and will let me use their phone. Or...I don't know. There's gotta be a payphone around here somewhere. ...those still exist, right?
He dug through his pockets. He'd been robbed, maybe he couldn't even use a payphone and all his brainstorming would have been for nothing. He felt something metallic and circular and pulled it out for a closer look. He sagged in relief. A quarter. And...yes, there was another. Whoever took his wallet must not have checked his pockets all that thoroughly. They'd missed those. He still had a chance. Two quarters, that meant hope of getting out of here. Two quarters, that'd be enough to call Kit and give him cross streets and beg him for a pickup and then you can yell at me later just come get me please.
Assuming he found a payphone.
That worked.
Mel shook his head, fighting back the renewed swell of panic. He had a plan, he had a means to implement that plan, he couldn't fall apart again now. He took a deep breath. Won't find one back here.
He picked his way out of the alley. The street on the other side was mostly deserted. A few cars parked on the sides, one early morning jogger on their way to what was probably a park close by, not that Mel knew which one so it was no help to him, and--
Yes! Phone!
He waited until the jogger was out of sight--he didn't want to draw attention or have the police called on a bloody teenager who's clearly not from this neighborhood because he just wanted to get in touch with his brother and get picked up and...
He darted across the street without being noticed. He made it. It was even a closed-off booth much to his relief, and he slammed the door behind him.
Please work please work please work...
He picked up the receiver and held his breath, hoping against hope.
"Please insert fifty cents. If you wish to call collect--"
He could have jumped for joy. He pressed the lever about fifty times to make sure it wouldn't cut out on him because it sucked and then slid his precious quarters into the slot, then practically sobbed with relief at the dial tone. He punched in the area code, then froze. For a panicked moment, he couldn't even remember Kit's number, because who the hell remembered individual numbers anymore? He certainly hadn't needed to. Kit's--and everyone else that was important, like Kirsten and a couple other friends from school and a couple places that did delivery when Kit was working late and Mel didn't feel like cooking--those were all stored on his phone.
His phone which was missing.
Mel closed his eyes and took a deep breath and focused. 273-8295. He dialed as fast as he could and waited, holding that breath.
Pick up pick up pick up, please pick up... Kit didn't usually screen his calls, at least as far as Mel know--but, then, Mel had never called his brother from a number he wouldn't recognize.
"Hello?"
OH THANK GOD
Kit sounded extremely annoyed, but he was awake and not too upset and most importantly he'd picked up. Mel fought back the urge to burst into tears, that would just piss his brother off even more, and he needed Kit to help him and not hang up on him and. He took a deep breath. "Kit, Kit it's me, it's Mel, I'm in--"
"Where are you? What the hell happened?"
"I...I don't know, exactly, um, I got...it got...please, can you come get me?"
Kit didn't answer, and Mel's heart sank. He's even more pissed than I thought he's gonna hang up on me and I can't make another call, I don't know how I'm gonna get home if he hangs up on me I don't know what to do I can't please Kit don't hang up on me please...
"Please, Kit, I-I-I-I'm using a payphone and I don't have any more change..."
"A payphone? What the fuck?"
"M-my cell phone's missing, my w-w-wallet too, I can't get home without you picking me up, please..."
Kit was silent for another achingly long handful of seconds. "Where are you?" he finally asked.
"I'm...um." Mel peeked out of the booth, and there was a street sign, easy to find, so he didn't run out of time or money or anything important like that. "I-I'm at the corner of Tenth and Seventy-Second."
"The hell are you--nevermind." Kit sighed. "I'll be there in a half-hour. Then we're gonna talk."
"Yeah. Yeah, okay, I'll--"
"To continue talking, please insert thirty-five cents."
"I don't have thirty-five cents!" he wailed at the presumably nice pay phone lady who was nonetheless interrupting a conversation that could damn well save his life and--
Dial tone.
Mel managed to restrain himself from smashing the receiver. Kit was coming, he'd managed to get through to him, that was the most important thing. He would be out of here and safe at home before he knew it. Kit always looked out for him, there was no reason this time would be any different. Even if Kit was pissed, Kit would get him home. Because he was his brother and Kit didn't put up with anyone messing with him.
Now he just needed to find a place to wait without being seen or arrested.
He very, very gently put the phone back on the hook, and wavered for a minute. ...I could just stay in here. Read the phone book if I get bored or need distraction or--everyone has cell phones, unless they're dumbasses like me who get themselves robbed, anyway, so no one else is going to need or want to use it... That idea of staying in the little protective, sheltering box was more and more attractive by the minute. He sagged against the wall and then jerked away, immediately regretting it. It hurt, it was probably filthy anyway, he didn't want to get infected and die on top of everything else, and he...and he...
He sat down heavily and hugged his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth a little. He felt something scabbed over on his back separate, and shuddered, blinking back tears. What the hell happened last night?
He took several deep breaths, and then suddenly someone was tapping on the door and he jumped up, his heart jumping even higher and lodging firmly in his throat. Almost without thinking, he grabbed the phone book--it wasn't much, but it was thick and heavy. It might stop a knife and he could bash someone in the head with it and--
What the hell why am I thinking about hitting people?
"Wh-who's out there?" he managed to choke out after a long minute.
"S'me, Mel."
Kit's voice.
Mel could practically hear an angelic choir accompanying it.
He dropped the phone book and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It's been a half-hour already? "O-okay," he said, then pushed the door open.
Kit gave him a long measuring look. "What happened last night?" At least he didn't seem angry anymore. He was really calm, and that was almost scarier. Whatever, he was here and he wasn't yelling. That was all that mattered for the moment.
"I...w-we went to the movie. And dinner, then he...he wanted to pull over somewhere, I said no. He kicked me out of the car, and I..." Mel trailed off.
"Why didn't you call me then?" Kit asked.
...why didn't I call him then? That would've made total sense, and then maybe I wouldn't... Mel closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to remember. "...there was a Starbucks. I was...I was gonna go calm down, have something chocolate, then call you." That made just as much sense. It wasn't usually a good idea to call Kit crying, it just annoyed him. Plus, he probably would've still been at work anyway. Killing time somewhere comforting and public was the best choice Mel could've made, probably. But obviously something else had gone wrong after he'd made that decision, so what...?
"Why didn't you?" Kit asked for him
"I..." He opened his eyes and looked down at his feet. "I don't r-remember..." Which terrified him. Because it meant all sorts of increasingly horrible scenarios--with Bill, with faceless strangers, with something hot and soft and rough and sharp and that made no sense anyway, but...
"Fuck." Mel clung to the interruption with relief; it cut off his nightmarish speculation. Kit sighed. "Did you have a drink?"
He shook his head. "N-no, just a Coke at dinner."
"Don't lie to me." Kit's voice remained even, but the warning was there anyway.
"I'm n-not," Mel insisted. And he wasn't, there wasn't any reason to. Kit didn't care if he had liquor, even though he was underage. As long as he did well at everything that mattered, what he did in his time off was his own business. It was a nice change from Mom, who would have had a hysterical fit if she had even the slightest suspicion Kit had been with someone else who was drinking, let alone if he had been himself.
"Fine. Whatever." Kit sighed again, but at least he seemed to believe him. "Did you leave your drink alone with him at dinner?"
Mel thought for a minute, remembering, then slowly shook his head. "N-no. He went to the bathroom, but I didn't."
"At the theater?"
Another moment to think and piece the evening together. Mel shook his head again, relieved. "Didn't get a drink. Just popcorn. W-we...w-we shared..." Mel knew what Kit was thinking, and it would explain why he was so fuzzy about everything, but Bill wouldn't've drugged something they shared. That didn't make any sense.
Not that the rest of it did, but at least it made sense within itself. Sort of.
"Okay. Come on." Kit grabbed Mel's forearm and tugged him out of the booth. The car was on the corner up ahead, easy to get to within a couple minutes without too many people seeing, much to Mel's relief. They got there, and Kit pushed him into the front seat.
He slid in on the other side and punched up the closest hospital on his GPS. Mel swallowed, dreading the thought of having to go through this again and again, for doctors and maybe police and getting poked and prodded and... "Kit, I don't think I n-need to--"
"You're bleeding all over my car," Kit pointed out calmly. "You don't remember at least five or six hours. You damn well do need to."
Mel flushed and nodded, looking down at his hands. He couldn't exactly argue when Kit put it like that. The car rumbled to life beneath him, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He'd rather be doing anything other than the ordeal of getting medical and maybe legal attention--especially if...
"This kid, Bill. The one you went out with last night," Kit abruptly yanked him out of his thoughts and Mel was painfully grateful to him for it.
"Y-yeah?"
"He goes to your school, yeah?"
Mel nodded. "He's in my math class. Kirsten set us up."
"Uh-huh."
"In four hundred feet, turn left on Seventy-Third Street."
Kit switched off the audio on the GPS and turned on his signal. "What's his last name?"
Mel swallowed. Kit was pissed. At least it wasn't with him, but...if Bill had done something, it wasn't that Mel objected to...not exactly, just...Kit might get caught, and then Mel would be stuck in that other nightmare again. "Why do you want to know?"
"Just answer me."
...he's taking me to the hospital first, and...I guess if...if something did happen, the police'll have to know anyway, and they'll probably find out before Kit gets a chance to...not that I actually think Kit would, he has limits too, I'm sure... Mel shivered. "Johnson. Bill Johnson."
"Johnson. He's in your year? Not one of those math geeks who's ahead?"
"No, he's a senior."
"Okay."
Kit turned into the hospital parking lot and shut off the car. "Come on."
Mel swallowed again, and pushed the door open. Kit grabbed his arm again, as if he thought he would balk at the last minute--which, to tell the truth, Mel wasn't at all averse to and probably would have if not for his brother's looming presence--and pulled him up to the emergency room entrance.
Kit dragged him over to the triage nurse and tapped the desk in front of him, impatient to get his attention. "This is my brother, Mel Artwick. He was attacked last night, he doesn't remember who. Might've got drugged."
The nurse nodded and handed Mel a clipboard with a form on it. "Fill this out. We'll call you back when there's a doctor available."
Mel nodded and found a seat. It wasn't all that crowded, not out here, at least. Which was nice. Sometimes places like this got a little nuts. Or so he'd heard, anyway. Maybe they'd even be in and out in a hurry and he wouldn't have to deal with any of the...
But if Kit had brought him here, he would probably make him anyway.
Mel shut those thoughts aside for the moment. He couldn't do anything about them anyway. He concentrated on the clipboard instead. The form was a pretty standard one--name, age, insurance, reason for visit, allergies, history, and so on--but it took enough focus that Mel didn't have time to try and go back over last night again. At least until after he'd finished. It took him about a half hour, but he had to wait another hour after that--so much for the E.R. not being very crowded.
He started to hug his knees to his chest again--it felt better, other than the tearing, to curl up into a little ball--until Kit glared at him. Right. Probably reopening whatever again. He slowly put his feet back on the floor and closed his eyes, trying to think about something--anything--else.
He might have dozed off for a bit, because the next thing he knew, Kit was pulling him up again, and the clock had jumped forward about ten minutes without his noticing. "They just called you."
Mel nodded, and followed his brother and a guy who was presumably an orderly or something back through a maze of little curtained-off spaces to one at the end of the row.
A young-looking woman--she didn't look much older than Mel was, probably just out of college or something--in grey-green scrubs joined them after a minute or two. "Mel Artwick, right?"
He nodded. "H-hi," he managed. "S'my brother, Kit. H-he can stay, right?"
She nodded. "Of course, if you want him here." She smiled. "I'm Lillian Allerton, I'm an NP. I'm going to check you over, okay?"
"Y-yeah," he said.
She was comfortingly professional about it, at least, with cool hands and a light touch. She kept up a calm stream of dialogue--mostly about what she was doing, occasionally asking him if it hurt or something--the whole time. Mel tuned out most of it, mumbling appropriately--he hoped--when she asked questions. She drew blood--probably to check if he'd been drugged, or was drunk, or whatever. She paused when she reached his back. "...I'll be right back, Mel, okay?"
He blinked, but she must have had a reason for wanting to walk out in the middle of his exam. "Uh-huh."
She flashed a quick smile, then pushed out through the curtain. He heard her footsteps clicking away fast.
Kit seemed annoyed that she was ditching them, but he didn't call her on it and make a scene, at least. "Don't curl up again," he said, without even looking at Mel.
He nodded. Kit was probably right. Comforting as it was, it was probably just hurting him worse in the long run. "I w-won't." He leaned back and closed his eyes. He wasn't really freaking out anymore, just felt numb and tired. And cold. Probably because he'd been bleeding off and on for God alone knew how many hours, but...
Nurse Allerton finally came back, followed by an older man.
"...what's going on?" Kit asked, sounding suspicious and still annoyed. Whether at Nurse Allerton or the stranger or just the whole messed-up situation, Mel couldn't tell.
"Just wanted to confirm something," she assured him.
"I'm Dr. Fuller," the man introduced himself, rather brusquely. "I need to see your back."
Mel nodded and shifted. Dr. Fuller pulled on a pair of gloves and poked at it for a minute, and Mel tried not to flinch. He could feel Kit getting tenser and tenser next to him, but at least it didn't last long, and the poking didn't hurt too badly.
"You were right," Dr. Fuller said, presumably to Nurse Allerton, then peeled off his gloves. "Definitely clawmarks."
...claw...?
"What." Kit said flatly.
"Last night was a full moon," Dr. Fuller reminded them. Still very brusque. Mel hardly had time to process what he was saying before he moved on. "Unfortunately, it looks like your brother crossed paths with an ill-contained lycanthrope."
"What."
Mel's head was spinning. Bill isn't...Bill didn't attack me, he's just an ordinary jerk, not a...I mean, he didn't actually...oh my God...a lycanthrope? Oh...oh God, does that mean I...that means I'm...
"Mel?" Nurse Allerton was trying to get his attention again. From the way Kit was staring at him, she'd probably been trying for a few minutes at least.Dr. Fuller had left at some point, he'd totally missed it.
He flushed, then took a deep breath and looked up at her. "S-sorry. I-I'm...I-I-I'm s-s-sorry. Y-you w-w-were saying s-something?"
She smiled sadly at him. "It'll be okay. You'll be all right, a lot of werewolves live full, ordinary lives--"
"Fuck that," Kit said, abruptly. He was calm again, though. Didn't sound quite so annoyed. Not with his tone, at least. "Just...stitch him up. Do what you're supposed to. Stop talking." He took a deep breath. "I'm his guardian, I'll take the classes and whatever, just tell me where to sign up. I'll handle this."
"...fine," Nurse Allerton said, though her face became strangely unreadable. Mel got the distinct impression she didn't approve of what Kit had just said, but she didn't challenge him. Probably a good thing. Definitely easier for Mel, it would be calmer and get him out faster. This was hard enough without his brother fighting with the hospital people the way he used to fight with Mom.
Oh, God. Mom.
At least she died before this happened...
Mel shivered and resisted the urge to curl up.
The nurse got a suture kit from a drawer in the table. "I'm going to numb the area, all right? Let me know if you feel anything."
Mel nodded, and closed his eyes. He barely felt it while she closed up his back, just a weird pulling sensation. She carefully wrapped him in some sterile gauze, then turned to Kit. "I'm going to write him a couple of prescriptions--antibiotics, painkillers, and something for the nausea. A lot of new-turned werewolves have it, the first week or two."
"Fine. Whatever," Kit said. Now he sounded irritated. Mel was strangely relieved. That icy calm wasn't like his brother.
"There are some papers you need to sign, for the caretaker course, and a release, and so on," she said.
Kit nodded, and waved a hand, dismissing any details with some irritation. "Just show me."
She stood up and held open the door to let him out. Safely taped up, Mel curled tight once they were gone. Nothing tore, and the comfort was more important than that right now anyway, at least where Kit couldn't see. He tasted something acidic, and bitter, and...
Werewolf. I'm a werewolf. I...
"Mel?"
He looked up. Nurse Allerton was back. "...wh-what?" he asked, surprised to see her so soon and without his brother.
"I left your brother filling things out," she said, guessing his other question without needing to be asked directly. "I wanted to give you this." She handed him a card, for a psychiatrist, a Dr. Adelaide Martin. "She runs a support group for werewolves, especially in their first year or so after being attacked. You should go." She smiled briefly at him. "I meant what I said earlier. And...just so you know, a lot of victims black out their attacks. That's probably why you forgot last night. We'll still go ahead and run the tox screen and everything to be sure, and we'll call you with those results as soon as we have them, but..."
Mel nodded. "Th-thanks," he said. That was a relief. The less bad things had happened to him last night, the better he'd feel. He pocketed the card for later.
"Your brother's going to sign you out after he finishes," she said, then handed him a few pieces of paper with his prescriptions. "Get these filled as soon as you can, okay?"
"I will," he promised.
"Good luck," she said, with another quick smile, then slipped out with just a couple minutes to spare before Kit came back.
"Come on," he said, and tossed Mel his jacket. Relieved, Mel pulled it on over the bandages and followed Kit out of the hospital and back out to the car.
They didn't say anything on the way back to the apartment. Mel wasn't sure there was anything to say. Definitely wasn't anything that could change what had...
Anyway. It was an opportunity to doze a little, too. Mel was still...tired wasn't even the right word for it. It was too little, and exhaustion was too much, but...something. It was nice, to close his eyes and just feel the car vibrating beneath him and not think for as long as it took them to get back to their building. Kit shook him awake when they got there, but at least didn't pull him up the stairs like he'd been doing before.
"What did she give you?" Kit asked, once they were inside.
"Prescriptions," Mel answered, just a little evasively, hoping Kit wouldn't call him on it. "I'll...I'm gonna change, then I'll go down to the pharmacy and--"
"Don't lie to me," Kit said, calm again. "What else?"
"Just...just the prescriptions," Mel lied, trying to sound casual and not desperate or afraid. Kit didn't like psychiatrists. And Mel didn't want to lose the card. Not before he had a chance to memorize the number and figure out a way to get in touch with Dr. Martin without Kit finding out.
Kit slapped him. "Don't lie to me," he repeated.
Mel took a deep breath. "I'm not," he insisted, praying Kit would buy it.
"...fine," Kit said, and Mel relaxed. "...look, Mel..."
"Yeah?"
"You're my brother," Kit said, sharp. Somehow, it managed to sound equal parts comforting and threatening.
"Yeah," Mel said.
"Got it?" Kit pressed, clearly not satisfied. "I will get you through this. I will deal with this. But you don't get to make decisions without consulting me. Understand?"
Mel swallowed and nodded. "Understood," he said.
"Good," Kit said. "Go change, then we'll go to the pharmacy."
Mel nodded again. "Okay." He slipped off to his room as fast as he could, then pulled out Dr. Martin's card and studied it, whispering the numbers over and over to himself until he had it firm in his head. He tore it up into tiny pieces, as small as he could, but wasn't sure that would be enough to keep Kit from finding out he'd lied. He hesitated for a second, then swallowed as many of the pieces as he could without choking. He couldn't get all of them, but it should have been enough that even if Kit double-checked when he took out the trash, there wouldn't be any way to figure out whose the card had been or where or when Mel had gotten it. He didn't plan on deciding things without Kit's input, he just...
He needed the option. For whenever the numb shock he was pretty sure was keeping an absolute meltdown at bay faded.
"Mel?" Kit called, and he jumped. He'd taken too long with the card.
"Just a sec," he said, and grabbed the first clean shirt he saw and yanked it on over the bandages. He wriggled out of his dress pants and changed into jeans, then rejoined his brother.
He managed a little smile. "Okay. Let's go."
Kit nodded and let the way outside. Mel took a deep breath and followed. He wanted Dr. Martin as an option. But Kit was right.
Kit was his brother. He'd always looked after him before. There was no way that was going to change now, despite...despite everything. Mel would be okay, in the long run. Kit would make sure of it. He was just territorial enough to do it, when a lot of other people would abandon suddenly lycanthropic dependents.
But not the two of them. Kit would always be there, looking out for him. And if he said it was so, then they'd get through this. Somehow.