How did I not suspect that those words would leave this man's lips? 

I settle back against the mattress, as upset as I am, I know better than to explode in front of someone who holds the fate of my friends in his unknown clutches. Marcello seems calm, I trust him as much as I can trust a stranger, it seems that there is a way to play this that would lend my friends safety and keep my abilities out of the clutches of this establishment. 

He doesn't look at me but I can see his pulse is pounding in the crook of his neck, giving away that careful facade, perhaps praying that he can trust our very future in my youthful hands. Must I be forty before people take me seriously? 

"Mr.Malcom was it? I had an acquaintance that you remind me very much of." 

A modern-day Mr.Balan, only this man was not nearly as overweight and smelt much more like a box of men's cologne than cigar smoke and deception. 

"Can't say I quite trusted him, either."

"You can trust me." He reassures me smoothly. 

My expression showed him the errors in his words, and he decided on a different approach. 

"I'm not asking for your trust, per se. I'm askin' that you think about what I'm offerin' you. It's a free pass to continue your work, but you keep us in the loop." 

The loop? 

"Keep us in the know, ya know? Are you from Romania? Marcello says your files have been lost; we need to get you a new identification tag. You could have saved this city, ya know. People's gunna want a name." The longer he talks, the more he reminds me of Eddie, and that accent begins to come through. I find I have a good habit of running people's patience thin. 

I stare directly ahead, watching the scene flicker across the television screen that hangs overhead. Some drama, I suppose, where a woman is standing defiantly in the face of a rather concerned-looking gentleman. Television hadn't been something that had caught my attention before, it was hard to understand, people trapped in a contraption only they weren't actually there. 

Books played in real-time, Rhea tells me. Why did I feel like this was just like that? A story, they were telling me what I wanted to hear to pacify me. I was used to being the more powerful man in the room, and it made people in my time nervous, why not these people? How did they have any hope of controlling me? My friends. They had my friends. 

"I wish to speak to your master."

"My master?" 

Marcello chuckles at my terminology. "Nicolas has a funny way of saying your boss."

"The president?" David demands, bewildered.

I nod. "If that's who is above you then so be it." It's David's turn to laugh once more as he takes me in. 

"Save more than a city, and you can talk to the president, we still don't know what you are, Nicolas. I suggest you make more reasonable demands before someone finds you to be a clown and stops taking interest in you. You're facing a lot of jail time that I don't think you comprehend. I'm trying to be nice to you, I don't have to cooperate with you, but I think you have talents that could greatly benefit our world in its current state. 

If it weren't for Marcello vouching for you, I can promise that you'd be on the dissection table so we can figure out what the hell inside you makes you do what you do. Now." He smooths his hair over, stiffly moving his hand over the locks. 

His thinner face makes me envision him as a rat, maybe a snake if he had a better bone structure. No, I think I much prefer the image of a rat. 

"Are you willing to work with us? Ya don't have to come to my church or even shake my hand, all I'm askin' is that you tell us what your plans are and-"

I narrow my eyes. "And what? Give you a chance to make it look like your idea?"

Marcello stands, walking over to put his hand on David's shoulder. "Dave, Nic is not a kid. He's just short, kind of built like one. I've seen him work, you will get much farther with him if you just tell him what's up." 

I nod towards Marcello, offering the slightest smile. I knew I liked that man. 

David nods to his men, dismissing them. Once they leave, he leans forward towards me and rests his elbows on his knees to fold his hands and collect his thoughts. This man couldn't be compared to Mr.Balan, the fat man was way too confident for his own good and always had a trick or two up his sleeve. 

This man, David Malcom, was not the orchestrator of this plan. He was merely doing his job, and he was speaking above his paygrade, I could see it clearly on his face. Besides, I didn't much care for his relaxed posture. It was disrespectful, to say the least. 

"I wouldn't say that we were trying to secure the idea as our own, but yes, the idea would be that it would look like we were closely involved. People are scared, Nicolas. I'm afraid we have backed the wrong horse in this race, and the government is looking very weak. If we don't do something, and soon, there will not be much of a country- let alone a world, left to fight for. 

We are running out of time to fix this and what you did today could be the very answer we are looking for. Marcello says we are on the same side, I'm merely asking to be allowed to fight for the cause alongside you." 

I ponder this, flicking my gaze towards Marcello who shrugs in response. It's a toss-up truthfully, we could have an excellent relationship with the financial backing to do whatever it is we pleased, or we could be signing out rights away to be disposed of when this was all over. I swallow, pulling my eyebrows together to put on my politician's face. 

"I'd like to see a written document, signed by your master that says exactly what your expectations are and I will have my own. I'd like to build a working relationship with you, Mr.Malcom, in which we promise not to lie to each other. 

As long as we do that, I feel as though some form of agreement can be reached. I don't much care for being lied to." I turn my attention to my handcuffs and hold out my wrists. "Unchain me, I'd like to get up."

I rub my wrists as I stand, cringing at the discomfort in my lungs. "This is not nearly painful enough. Do you have healers?"

David raises an eyebrow. "Morphine... and as I said, you were already almost healed when we got to you. It was quite interesting, to say the least. I recommend you to stay here for a few more days, and enjoy the comforts of the facility while we draw up some agreements and bring officials for you to meet with. 

These are exciting times, Nicolas. It's the first glimmer of light that we will be able to stop this, that we could save the planet." 

It's hard to hide my lack of enthusiasm as I come to terms with the fact I will be forced back into of position I thought I had left behind. Things don't change, no amount of advancements would free the people from their lust for leadership and rule. It might as well be me, a man once said the one who should lead is the one who doesn't want it. 

"Can I see them? My friends?" 

David hesitates. 

"Rest. They have healing to do as well. Once we make arrangements, you'll see them soon enough." 

I don't argue, I know what that means. There will be plenty of time for arguing when the proper paperwork gets here. 

So, I spend my downtime as one must in this day and age. I try and find some sport in the art of watching television, as there is not much else to do other than feel sorry for myself that the man I consider my husband has been unfaithful. In the midst of soap operas and dramas, I find escape to be nearly impossible. 

Finally, I decide on the news and I watch the interestingly dressed woman give an announcement on the state of New York City. She shows footage of the city, cleaner, more open and people actively moving around in the streets as opposed to the shuffling bodies that seemed barely alive.

The sun, for the first time in many years, was shining down and it seemed everyone was eager to get outside and bask in it. A fountain, crusted over in grit and grime, spouted a single stream of water as the camera pans out. Hope, life, restoration. It makes the corner of my mouth turn up, it was worth it. 

It was worth it to restore the life that once flourished here. 

"It would seem we have a red-haired man to thank, though no identity is known, we have received word from officials that he is being treated for injuries sustained in a misunderstanding." The woman reports. "All we have to say is 'Thank you', to this mysterious person that some are saying was sent by God himself. As soon as we know more about the situation, we will keep you updated. Enjoy this day, New York, hopefully, the beginning of anew."

 So they hadn't gone public yet. Very interesting, indeed. Anonymous, I like the sound of that. No known identity, no way to track it, much like these ridiculous shows I've been drowning my brain cells in. Sometimes, the hero would hide their identity, maybe that was the right thing to do. I didn't want the glory, I wanted to help people. 

I jump when the door opens, noticing it's Mr.Malcom. 

"Good morning." I greet cooly. He nods, pulling up a chair to sit next to me.

"I hope you're feeling better?"

I nod back, "I was just watching this news station, I believe it's called. They're talking about the rain. Seems things are going well. Temperature is down by ten whole degrees." I try to hide the enthusiasm in my voice, but it's difficult to contain my excitement about changing this city for the better. 

"I saw. I was hoping you'd be watching." He smiles, grabbing the remote to turn off the TV. "How do you feel about all of this?"

How do I feel? It's hard to think around my own heartache. The one person I want to share this with isn't here, not that I really wish to see him. It kills me that all I can do is envision that proud expression as I relay my excitement, how he would look amused and smile along with me.

 His questions and his retorts were as valuable as his assistance at times. His experience, his lack of empathy, and yet quest for fairness and freedom. "I'm ready to get back to it. There's a lot to do. I assume the paperwork is in order?" 

He places the packet in front of me.  

"Simple contract; I can read it to you if you like." 

Another reason to miss my warlord. My English isn't the best. I hesitate, glancing up at him.

"I'd like to see my friends; excuse me if I don't trust you to read it to me correctly. I have an advisor amongst them." 

The sigh confirms my fears were correct. 

"I could only arrange the release of two of your lycans."

I shove the papers back into his hands. "That wasn't the deal."

"That is the deal, Nicolas. We can not give you back everything so easily; we have our asses to protect. If you deliver on your next mission, then we can talk about the release of the other two, but for now, two seems pretty good considering they are illegal." 

Glaring at the bedsheets, I think this through, burning it over in my head. My chest heaves; how much can I take? How long can I be the diplomat when I want to shout at this man to stay out of my way? 

"Nic." Mr.Malcom places the papers quietly back in my lap. "I'm trying. Giving you two is a stretch; it's my neck on the line for this. The other two will be kept here until you've completed your next task- at your discretion. Then they will be returned to you. We have to build trust. You in us and us in you."

Always a catch. "I need to see them." 

He shuts his eyes and nods. "Ten minutes." 

We walk through the large hallways, bright and white. Everyone is in white save for us. I tug at the government-provided scrubs that I dawn, feeling out of place amongst the people who don't quite look right. Distant eyes, vacant expressions, some being pushed in rolling chairs. Who would I choose? How could I leave two friends here? "This isn't cutting into my time, is it?" I demand. 

He chuckles. "You're a clever man, Nic."

"Nicolas will do fine." I corrected him. 

"My apologies... No, it starts once we get there." Getting into the elevator, I shut my eyes and ground my hands against the metal as we descended. Small spaces made of metal weren't a strong suit of mine; diving back into the depths of the earth was an even less comfortable prospect. 

He doesn't comment on my tension, and I count the seconds as the elevator begins to slow. Almost too quickly, I rush out of the metal box into another equally bright hallway. Mr.Malcom motions for me to follow him and we stop in front of a large, shiny steel door. 

"Here we are. Ten minutes. Select your two and press the button on the wall."

I try to hide my destain as I slip into the room and shut the door behind me. White surrounds me, and when I step forward, I find myself in a narrow hallway that separates me from them; a dense glass wall keeps us apart. 

I look at the small metal chairs and pull my eyebrows together, observation. The room the four are in is small, with simple beds, some chairs, and a table. Verando paces, Reid is playing a card game against Marisol, and Helen sits quietly in one of the chairs, hugging herself. 

Helen, gods, Helen. How could I leave her? But that takes away one of my choices. The glass shimmers and I notice the group looks at me. Was it one-way glass before? Cautiously, Verando approaches me. Where I expected desperation, he looked reluctant to talk to me. 

"Good morning," I tell him stiffly, what else should I say? 

You're a bastard, and I hate you for what you're doing to me. 

He's dressed similarly to the others in the building, and to me, he wears pale scrubs. As he gets closer, I take in his injuries. His left arm is bandaged down to his busted knuckles, bleeding through the bandages. His arm is taped to his body, wrapped to his collarbone. One of his eyes is blackened, some road rash on his temple, and his lip is fuller on the side. 

"What the hell happened?"

"I got run over by a car. You called Alpha-" He almost seems to accuse me but thinks better of it. "It's not important... it's fine. The shoulder was bad anyway."

I stare at him, taking him in. He's so close to me, yet I can't even touch him. I try to convince myself I wouldn't if I could, yet the distance is cutting me to the core. The glass is so thick I can't even feel his warmth. Keeping my distance, I cross my arms uncomfortably over my chest, feeling the tightening starting there. 

"How did you get captured?" My voice is low.

"Once I got run over, Marisol and Reid turned themselves in. Helen shifted in the car, and scared the hell out of the men; I like to think it was an accident." 

An accident. I feel as though it was no accident. I shake my head, glaring at the ground. 

"Are you upset with me for being run over..? I didn't do it on purpose; trust me, I'd take it back if I could-"

"I'm upset with you for a lot more than that!" I spit, my voice low. "You and Marisol were too busy acting like fools to take things seriously. We should never have been there that long. This never would have happened if you had acted as I expected you to, an adult! A professional." 

He was nearly twice my age, he knew I was already upset with him, he knew how important this was to me, and he couldn't take it seriously. Those light eyes bore into me, waiting patiently. I feel it is building; I sniffle and blink furiously. 

Damn it. 

"Don't cry-"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do!" I snap, glaring at him now. "You fucked up. Now I have to choose, and I don't want to! I can only take two of you with me, and there's this contract, and it's in English, and I don't fucking speak English, let alone read it!" 

I let a small sob slip out and clutch the contract. I don't have time to be upset. 

"Pass it through the slot." His voice is kind and patient. 

Obediently, I do so, shoving it through without care, expecting an eye roll but getting nothing back in return. He flips through it, scanning over it quickly. "It says they can take credit for your accomplishments, but they won't tell you what to do. Funding, housing, food, and clothes are all provided to you and any involved in your work. 

When it's done, you're free to go. Did you negotiate for this?" 

I nod. 

"That's-" He stops, removing the smile from his face. The slightest hint of it is enough to make my heart quicken. "Good job." He passes it back through, looking at me like he can see into my soul. I hug the papers back to my chest, "I'm sorry."

I can't help but scoff, wiping my eyes with an amount of aggression that irritates my skin. "Sorry, it doesn't fix anything."

"I know. I wanted to tell you, and with Marisol, it was... idiotic of me to do such a thing. I have to accept the consequences of my actions, I believe you said, 'Grow the fuck up.' I am sorry, I do love you-"

"But not enough, apparently." I corrected him. 

It makes him wince, a soft sigh leaving his lips. "More than you know, darling. Take Reidy and Helen." My body grows rigid, and I give him a stern look. "Helen needs her family; she's scared and can not control the change. These collars shock us if we shift; she's getting jolted non-stop. She needs help, help I can not give her here." 

My breathing quickens, and I shake my head. 

"I'm not- I won't," I argue back. I don't want to take him, I don't want to look at him, but how can I leave him here? How can I go without him? My eyes darted to Helen, and I heard the intercom call my name. There has not been enough time; I need more time. 

His gaze drifts to the pale-haired girl, her vacant eyes watching the ground, and I can see the bloody ring around her neck from the collar. "Helen and Reid." He tells me firmly. "I can take being in here. You can.. do what you need to do. Move on, if you must.. but at least in here, I can't hurt you." 

I take a step towards him, gritting my teeth. 

"It's okay." 

I'm back in that wet leaf litter, watching him die all over again, assuring me that it would be alright even if he wouldn't survive. Only this time, I would say goodbye to him until I could manage to do another act of god for the city.

 I blink away the memory as the door opens. Mr.Malcom takes a step inside. 

"Have you decided?"

My lips part, but I can't say it. The R forms, but I can't manage it; how could I damn him? What if they were lying? What if I never saw him again? 

"Reid and Helen," Verando says for me. 

"Wait!" I plead as Mr.Malcom ushers me out of the room so they can remove my companions safely. But what are we waiting for? What am I to say? The door slams and my hands tremble as I hold the papers to my chest. 

I spent so much time being angry I didn't even get to say a proper goodbye. Rightfully so, I suppose. If I wanted to live my life without him, I would have to get used to not getting to say goodbye to him. 

"I will get them back?"

Mr.Malcom nods, "In time. I'll send you a cellular phone, and Marcello will instruct you on how to get ahold of me when you begin your next plan. Tell us before you enact it so we can be prepared with the proper support and coverage. Do we have a deal, Nicolas?" 

Reluctantly, I shake his hand. Helen and Reid are pushed out into the hallway, their collars unlocked with a unique key. I had successfully traded my freedom for theirs, while at the same time leaving my husband behind. All I could think about was the expression on his face before the door closed, the acceptance that I might not come back from him, and that broke me more than anything else.