Jed
JED DIDN’T do fights. Not like this. He didn’t get involved in domestic shit, he didn’t have long hours of awkward silences, and he sure as fuck didn’t spend half a day working while pretending not to see Redford’s ridiculously upset face. That was why he’d always done one-night stands. They weren’t messy, they weren’t demanding. He didn’t even have to know the other guy’s name. And even if they were a repeat, it never meant anything. It was just sex.
Redford wasn’t just anything, though. Redford was the goddamn moon and the hook it hung on, and up until two weeks ago, Jed would have said they were doing just fine. Sure, Redford was having some issues. Sure, sometimes things got a little wolfy and Jed lost Redford for a bit. But Redford had always come back. And Jed just figured that was a side effect of Fil.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
This place, these wolves, none of them lost control. None of them woke up in the middle of the night desperate to get out and chase squirrels. None of them ripped the throats out of people and barely seemed aware afterward. Jed had thought he was helping. He’d thought they were fine.
He was pretty damn sure he was wrong.
And God, he wished they’d just gone fishing. He didn’t want to do this; he didn’t want to fight with Redford. He didn’t want all the things he should say to get stuck in his throat every damn time Redford looked at him.
It was his fault. He was part of the cage Redford lived inside, and it was his fault that Redford wasn’t happy. That he was cracking apart at the seams.
Redford was asleep beside him. They’d plotted and planned half the day yesterday about what they’d need to do if the Gray Lady decided to stay and fight. Redford had gone scouting so they could start work on a more accurate map of the pack’s territory. Jed had made phone calls for supplies. They’d acted like nothing was wrong. They’d acted so damn hard like everything was fine.
It wasn’t fine. Jed was fucking this whole thing up. From the day he’d met Redford, he’d just made the guy worse. All that time, Jed thought he was saving him. He thought he’d found Redford and Redford had found him, and, what, it was a goddamn fairy tale? He should have known better. Fairy tales, they weren’t real. And people like Jed were a cancer. They spread and they corrupted every damn thing they touched.
Redford had been so fucking innocent. He’d been good, genuinely good. And now he was killing. Now he was part of some fucking war.
It was Jed’s fault.
Sitting in bed, staring into nothing, Jed didn’t notice the time pass. The stars and the moon trailed faint gray light across the floor of the cabin, Redford rumbled a whimper in his sleep and curled farther into the covers, but Jed still didn’t move. At the first light of dawn, Redford shifted in his sleep again, but this time his eyes opened, automatically seeking out Jed.
Redford had never been a morning person. Unlike Jed, who had long trained himself to be up and alert immediately, Redford never liked waking up and moving out of bed. There had been many mornings where Jed had been tempted to let Redford sleep in, even when they had a job they’d needed to get to in an hour.
Now Redford just rubbed a hand over his eyes and rose, pushing the blankets aside. He kept glancing at Jed as he got dressed, shivering through the chill of the morning air until he’d wrapped himself in three layers. Then finally, when he was done, he said, “We should go get coffee.”
Jed had plans for the morning. He hadn’t anticipated Redford getting up at dawn. “You should go back to sleep,” he mumbled, voice an exhausted rasp. Scrubbing his hands across his face, Jed sighed. “It’s early. You can get a couple more hours in before anyone’s really up.”
Redford smiled slightly and spread his arms to show Jed the layers he was wearing. With a T-shirt, a light jacket, and a heavier jacket on top of that, Redford resembled a marshmallow. “I’m dressed, Jed. And I’m not going back to sleep in this, so we may as well go.”
“Redford,” Jed started. He didn’t want coffee. He didn’t want to sit at a goddamn table and pretend everything was fine anymore. Jed could only sit back and think about shit for so long. It was time he got some answers. And none of those answers would be found in Lassie’s cafeteria.
But then he looked over and caught Redford’s expression. That very stubborn, very determined look that silently said: Jed, get your ass up off that bed because we are going to get coffee whether you like it or not. Jed knew that look. It meant that any arguing Jed might do was simply wasted.
So, with another heaved exhale, Jed slid out of bed and tugged on his jeans, searching through his bag for a sweatshirt. “Fine,” he muttered, teeth clenched. “Coffee. Great.”
Redford made a little noise under his breath that Jed couldn’t discern, either irritated or acquiescent. Once Jed had gotten dressed, they left the cabin and walked silently toward the kitchens. Redford tugged the fake-furred collar of his heavy jacket up around his chin to ward against the cold before shoving his hands firmly in his pockets.
Jed hated how they were. He hated that he was so goddamn fucking useless he couldn’t even think of something to say. Over and over Jed nearly blurted something out, some desperate grasp at conversation or yet another apology. But every time he’d look over at Redford, and he’d just go mute.
There was something wild about Redford, Jed had thought that from the first time he’d met him, something so achingly beautiful, something strong and innocent and free. Something Jed both wanted to gather up and protect and wrap around himself like a shield. And everything in Jed, every fiber of him, only wanted to make Redford happy. To give him everything he deserved.
So why did he fuck it all up so badly? He’d shoved Redford into an apartment in the city. What kind of life was that for a wolf? What kind of person shoved something so beautiful in a cage? Jed was so goddamn selfish, he’d never even thought that the life he lived might not be what Redford needed. But now he saw, now he’d gotten example after fucking example of what a wolf should be. How could he possibly begin to make things right now?
The dining hall was nearly empty. Breakfast wasn’t out yet, but Jed could hear the clank of pans and the low hum of voices from the back. There was an enormous pot of coffee, though, and Jed poured himself a cup, finding a bottle of water for Redford and carrying both carefully toward a table in the corner.
On the way, he passed Anthony—he hadn’t even seen him there, tucked into a side table, out of the line of direct sight from the door. Anthony had both hands wrapped around an enormous mug, his shoulders hunched, head down so that his hair partially covered his face. When he looked up at them, though, he grinned. “Morning, guys. You’re up early.”
This was as good a table as any. Jed put Redford’s water down, slinging himself into one of the chairs and taking a long gulp of the coffee. “Yeah, well, someone got a hankering to go for a beverage he doesn’t actually drink.”
There was no response from Redford, and Anthony just lifted an eyebrow. The look he gave them was patiently amused, but there was a hint of concern there too. “Wolves tend to have more sensitive tastes than humans.” Anthony shrugged. “Ask Edwin why he never eats green vegetables. He keeps complaining that they’re too bitter.”
“It’s not the lack of coffee drinking I was….” Jed sighed. “Yeah. Never mind.” Another drink of coffee, then, just to have something to do with his hands. Jed was hunched over the table, jaw tight, too many thoughts in his head and not enough things he even remotely knew how to say. Looking at Redford was fucking painful right then. It was like staring into the face of every damn failure he’d ever had.
“So,” Anthony said brightly, clearly seeing the need for a change in topic, “I don’t actually know much about you two. When did you become mates?”
Blinking, Jed pulled his gaze up from contemplating his coffee. “Uh. You mean how long have we known each other? Isn’t mates more of a British slang thing?”
Anthony laughed. “No, I mean how long have you been mated to one another,” he clarified. “It’s obvious enough from your scents. They’re all over each other.”
Jed couldn’t help but look at Redford, who was giving Anthony nearly the same clueless look that Jed was. “Okay, explain it real slow for the dumb human,” Jed prompted, leaning back, gaze darting between the two of them. “Because I’m not following.”
Anthony frowned in complete confusion. “How can you not know what I’m talking about? Redford, you’re a wolf.”
Redford shrunk down in his seat. “Not really,” he mumbled. “I didn’t grow up like you guys, remember?” Jed had to bite back a very real urge to punch Anthony right in the throat for making Redford get that expression on his face.
“Right.” Anthony apparently had to take a moment to get his thoughts in line, because he took a breath, shook his head slightly, and peered at them in amusement. “Sorry. I’ll rephrase. How long have you been together?”
“Almost a year?” Jed tried to do the math in his head. “Something like that. So mates are, like, wolf boyfriends?” That kind of made sense, he guessed.
“Not really.” Anthony was looking at Redford more than Jed, still faintly confused. “I guess the better analogy would be marriage, but even more than that. I’m sure Randall could explain it a lot better than I could.”
“Whoa, whoa, hold on there, tiger.” Jed gave a nervous half laugh, practically shoving his chair back as if to give himself distance from the terrifying m-word. “There’s not… we are definitely not married. I don’t think that is something you just want to be saying to people. You don’t… you can’t just throw that word out there, man, that’s not cool.”
“Of course you’re not married,” Anthony huffed, “I can see the lack of rings. But you’ve got to be mates, you smell like it. And that’s even better than married.” He grinned at them both, pleased. “It’s a good thing, Jed. I’m happy for you, and I think it’s totally okay that you’re one human and one wolf.”
Jed could feel the irritation seeping in, a scowl tightening the lines of his forehead. “What the fuck does that mean?” he growled.
Anthony didn’t seem to notice Jed’s irritation. He leaned back in his chair, taking on a wistful smile. “It’s difficult to explain, but I’ll try. We call our partners mates. I’m sure Randall could go on a whole lecture about it, but I guess the main difference is, wolves tend to feel things a bit stronger than humans. Or at least we have more trouble letting go.” Anthony grinned. “It varies from wolf to wolf, how we find a partner. But in the end, we nearly always find our mate—someone that we could never think of leaving, someone that makes our life so much more whole than it ever was.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, studying them both. “And it’s the best thing that can ever happen to you.”
Jed didn’t want to hear this. Because then he’d start thinking about if he was that stupid mate thing to Redford, and what it’d mean if he wasn’t. What it might mean if he was. And why both answers scared the living hell out of him. “Yeah?” he smirked, cocky and disinterested, to hide everything that was behind the expression. “If it’s so damn great, where’s yours?”
If he was intending to insult Anthony enough to make him back off, Anthony didn’t take the bait. He just sighed into his coffee. “Somewhere that’s not here. I know he’s still alive. I think I’d feel it if he died. But he’s been for gone for a while.”
It struck Jed then that Anthony looked like a man who was missing his other half. Like there was something very lopsided about him when he sat alone, as if there should be someone sitting at his side. Jed didn’t want to know what that felt like. More than anything, he never wanted to find that out.
Chewing the inside of his cheek, Jed looked down, shaking his head. “We’re not mates,” he muttered roughly. “End of story.”
Because if they were, then he was going to wind up just like Anthony.
“Well, um,” Redford hedged, “it sounds fairly accurate to me.”
Before Jed had the chance to reply, Anthony brightened again, beaming at them. “I knew it. Jed, you just don’t have the instincts, you probably can’t tell. And that’s okay! But I think after a while even a human will start to get it, so if you’ve been together for nearly a year, you’ll get it soon.”
“Yeah, ’cause I’m not wolf enough, right?” Jed nodded sharply, a far too wide grin on his face. “I don’t get a lot of stuff about him. Like what he needs. Like how to even handle a wolf or full moons or any of that shit that just comes so goddamn natural to everyone else in this freak show. Right?” He stood, kicking his chair back, nearly upsetting his coffee. “You know what, I think I’m going for a walk.”
Anthony had gone wide-eyed, like he was appalled at himself for saying something that could be taken as an insult. “That’s not what I meant,” he protested. “It’s not a bad thing that you just need a little longer to learn this stuff, Jed. Hell, if Randall and Victor do wind up getting together, Victor will need to learn all this too.”
“Please, for all that is holy, do not fucking compare me to the goddamn princess, all right?” Jed threw his hands up in surrender. “Fine. It’s great that I’m ruining Redford’s life, you’re right. Goddamn adorable.”
He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Especially not with Redford looking at him with those big eyes, those endless depths he’d gotten lost in so many times. It made Jed ache. It made him emotional and weak, because he got so afraid of losing Redford that he couldn’t think about what was best for him.
“Jed.” Redford sounded unsure and unhappy all at the same time. Jed felt Redford take his hand, reaching out for him. “You haven’t ruined my life. You’ve made it so much better.”
Staring down at the floor so he wouldn’t have to see Redford, so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact and pull up a fake smirk and pretend, Jed just gave a quiet nod. “Ask Anthony over there if that’s even remotely true.” A sad, quick smile touched his lips. “Hell, ask anyone. Ask them what they think of me shutting you up on full moons. On the fact that the only hunting you’ve ever done is stalking the hot dogs I throw around. How about the fact I taught you to kill, huh? Isn’t that so much better, that I took you, that I took this perfect guy, and I twisted you? I shoved you into a fucking cage, and I let you fester in there because I was too goddamn selfish—” His voice had risen to a shout, a self-loathing bellow, and Jed choked back the rest of the words. Jaw tightening, lips trembling into a sardonic smirk, he turned away. “I’m going for a walk. Don’t wait around for me, Redford.”
There was no reply from Redford, and Jed was glad his back was turned. He didn’t want to see whatever expression Redford was wearing right then: understanding, anger, sudden realization, he didn’t know. He just knew he didn’t want to see it. Because no matter what, it wouldn’t change where they were.
He slammed the door of the cafeteria shut behind him. It wasn’t as satisfying as it should have been. Hands in his jacket pockets, head down, Jed walked quickly across the camp. The dew on the grass under his feet soaked his jeans. The air held his breath in a trail of fog.
She was waiting for him. Maybe she’d known he was coming; maybe it was inevitable that he wind up there. Either way, when Jed knocked on the Gray Lady’s door, she opened it immediately, gesturing for him to come in.
This time, Jed didn’t bluster or bellow or fight. He simply sat, waiting as the Gray Lady made tea, waiting as she settled in opposite him. Waiting with his mind racing, with a sick drop of dread in his stomach. Why had he said all of that? Why had he told Redford any of that? He’d just ruined fucking everything.
“The Council has come to a decision.” When the Gray Lady finally spoke, it took Jed several moments to figure out what she was talking about.
He didn’t care. Christ, that made him a bastard, but he didn’t. This whole fucking camp, they could go, stay, fight, turn into goddamn chickens and roost and he didn’t care. All he could think about was Redford. But Jed scrubbed a hand through his hair, he sat up a little straighter, and he did his damn job. That was what he was, anyway. Just the job. He was an idiot for forgetting that. “Yeah? What’s the verdict?”
“We will run.” Jed couldn’t read the Gray Lady; she was all smooth voice and grace. But he kind of thought she sounded sad. “As soon as possible. The potential loss of life if we stay is too great.”
Jed nodded. “I don’t think that’s a bad idea—” There was a yip from the corner, a quick patter of paws, and then an unsteady fluff ball of a wolf pup came charging out from under a pile of cushions. It was all huge paws and a tail waving like an energetic flag. The puppy crashed into Jed’s knee and barked happily at him before making its wobbling way over to the Gray Lady. She picked it up and smiled at it, cradling the pup in her arms.
“My apologies.” The Gray Lady smiled. “This is my daughter. She usually sleeps much later than this.”
“Loss of life,” Jed nodded, understanding. Apparently the Gray Lady still had some game, if she was popping out kids. He wondered how old she really was. “Your kid.”
“They are all my children, in a way.” The Gray Lady rubbed her hand behind the pup’s ears, settling her down. “But yes. We have young here who wouldn’t be able to fight. Running might be the best way to keep them safe.”
“Probably.” Jed drummed his fingers against the table. “Well, I’ll make some calls. Arrange transport, that kind of thing.”
“We will be appreciative.” The Gray Lady nodded.
Fidgeting, Jed nearly said more. He nearly asked all the things he’d wanted to. But the stupid fluff ball was wiggling in her arms, and Jed found he really didn’t want to know. He couldn’t even think of where to start.
“You have something on your mind,” the Gray Lady commented, her eyes on her daughter. “Speak it. We owe you a debt, and I will give my counsel if you wish it.”
Crap. Jed heaved out a breath, staring up the ceiling. “Look, I know you don’t approve of the whole human-with-wolf thing.”
“I do not.” The Gray Lady said it so damn calmly.
It would have been nice for her to be a little less blunt, but whatever. “Okay, fine. But Redford… he’s going through something. He’s got these… voices, I guess? Or instincts. Something going on in his head. And I thought I was helping, I thought I could help. But he’s getting worse. He goes into this kind of blood haze, I guess, sometimes. And I lose him.” Jed’s voice cracked. His eyes dropped to stare at his hands, refusing to look up at the Gray Lady. “I mean, he’s just… gone.” His bandage itched under his shirt, the pull of the wound still painful. “And it’s getting worse. One of these days, I’m pretty sure he’s going to go wherever it is he goes, and I’m not going to get him back.”
If he’d expected shock from her, he clearly wasn’t going to get it. She just studied him, one of her hands absently smoothing over her now-sleeping daughter. “And have you bonded? Is this more than just a series of dates for you?”
Christ. Jed had denied it in front of Anthony. He’d shout from the rooftops how he wasn’t anyone’s fucking mate, that this wasn’t what they were trying to turn it into. But the Gray Lady was just staring at him, infinitely calm, infinitely patient, infinitely a gigantic bitch waiting to rip his head off for lying. And Jed found himself nodding slowly, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. “I don’t know about bonding or whatever the shit,” he muttered hoarsely. “But I love him. Yeah. I… fuck, I love him. So whatever that means in your furry mumbo jumbo.”
“That’s unfortunate.” The Gray Lady wasn’t even looking at him now, apparently too busy fussing over her daughter. “Had you replied that you merely liked him, I would have cautioned you against getting too involved. In all my years, I have seen very few instances of wolves truly managing to live happy lives with humans. You are simply too short-lived.”
“But what about his….” Jed circled his finger beside his ear, eyebrows rising. “I mean, that’s not normal, right? Other wolves or whatever, they don’t have problems with their instincts like Red does.”
“No,” the Gray Lady answered. For once, there was a hint of something other than complete calm in her tone. “That is Filtiarn’s fault. The others that he turned received the full procedure; they were transitioned completely. Redford was not that lucky, and I have never before seen someone stuck halfway between a werewolf and a true wolf. It is a state of being that is simply not meant to happen.”
Expression falling, Jed rubbed his hand across his face. His fingers were shaking, he noticed absently. That was fucking embarrassing. He wished they’d stop. “So there’s nothing that can help him?”
“The voices you speak of, and the way he loses himself, those are products of confused instincts,” she replied, a faint sigh underneath her words. “Werewolves were Filtiarn’s first attempt to create more wolves like him. They are an abomination. What Redford is going through is a clash between those instincts and the ones of the true wolf. His mind cannot pick one, so there is chaos.”
“Okay, I think you have me confused with the professor.” Jed couldn’t help the desperate growl in his voice, the needy way he was searching her face for the answers she seemed so intent on keeping from him. “I don’t care why. The whole stupid history, I don’t give a fuck. I’m just looking for a solution. Is there a way he can get better?”
“Yes.” It sounded simple, said in her patient tone. “He would need to be with his own kind. He would need to be free to roam where he wants when he feels the need to turn. That is what would help him.”
Jed wasn’t unaccustomed to pain. He’d gotten things broken or burned or bruised more times than he could ever count. He’d been tortured, he’d been torn apart and put back together and stepped on Legos in the middle of the fucking night. Jed knew pain. And he’d insulated himself against it, in some respects. It was part of the job, it was expected, so he got used to the sensation of hurting.
That hurt more. More than anything he’d ever experienced, more than anything Jed knew how to handle. The blunt assessment that he was part of the problem, that the answer to Redford’s issues lay in everything he wasn’t, it felt like more than a punch to the gut. Jed was fairly certain that he had a gaping hole where his chest used to be.
“He should stay here,” Jed managed in a whisper, gaze locked firmly on the table in front of him, staring sightlessly down at the wood grain. “That’s what you’re saying. He needs to be with other wolves. Not me.”
He wanted her to say no. He wanted her to change her mind and say that, no, she thought it was completely okay that a wolf and a human be together. There had to be some kind of silver lining on this shit cloud, and Jed kept desperately hoping it would appear. Something he could do, some clear course he could map out and arrange so that everything would be fine. So that he could take Redford goddamn fishing.
“Exactly,” she replied. “You are a good man, Jed, even I can see that. You make a fine partner. But you are a man. Not a wolf.”
“I love him,” Jed whispered, hating how much of a plea was in his voice.
At least she didn’t look unsympathetic. “Then that will be hard for you. But wolves know what is better for wolves, and living with this pack would be the best thing for Redford.”
“I could stay here.” God, he couldn’t think, he could barely breathe around the ache in his throat. “With him. I’d go native or whatever the fuck I had to.”
The Gray Lady gave a short sigh. Her eyes were once again on her daughter. When she spoke, her tone was kind, but firm. “And what happens when you start to grow old and he does not? True wolves do not live as long as I, but much longer than humans. What happens when you can’t run with him, when he really wants to run? What happens when your knees start creaking with the cold, and while you attempt to hide it, Redford runs circles around you, never quite understanding why you can’t keep up. And what of yourself? Do you really think you could live here, among a people that are not your own? Would you be happy, hiding away? Would you be able to provide for him, give him a family, give him a true mate?”
Shoulders hunching in on himself, every word as calmly given, as skillfully aimed as a bullet, Jed didn’t move for a long time. He couldn’t. He’d come here for answers, for a solution, and he had one. It was simple.
He’d have to leave.
“Thank you,” Jed managed to whisper, wanting to shoot her right in the fucking face for being right. For not having another way. But he stood, back straight, jaw tight, and chin lifted. He nodded at her. “Take care of him for me.”
Turning on his heel, steps measured and precise, Jed marched back to the cabin. Knievel was still asleep on the bed, and he carefully loaded her into her carrier despite her meows of protest. He didn’t have much there, thankfully; shoving all his clothes into a bag didn’t take long. He left his maps and his weapons, his burner phone with his lists of contacts. They’d need all that in order to finish the plans for the move.
Jed was going home.
Redford almost looked happy when he stepped inside. He’d gone wolf, with a big stupid wolf grin as he turned to shut the door behind him, shaking his fur out. When he saw Jed, Redford shifted back with more ease than Jed had ever seen. Normally his change took at least a full minute. It was painful, and frankly goddamn horrible to watch.
But the shifts seemed easier now. And Jed couldn’t help hearing echoes of the Gray Lady’s words—Redford was more at ease with the wolf side of himself just from being in the pack. He’d made more progress here than Jed had ever managed to help him with.
“You wouldn’t believe how energetic wolf kids are,” Redford said, a laugh underneath his words as he tugged his jeans on. “There was a lady taking a big group of them for a run, but they all collided into me, and I wound up having to play with them for—” He paused. “Are you packing?”
His voice sounded so distant. Jed zipped up the duffel bag, hooking it over his shoulder. “I, uh, I left what you guys will need. You know who to call for transport and shit when the pack wants to do their moving, so just give them my name and they’ll treat you okay.” Jed kept his eyes on the floor, away from Redford, expression remote. “I’m taking the van. Tell princess that he’ll have to find his own ride back.”
“What?” All of the happiness just dropped right off of Redford’s face. “Jed, why are you leaving? Why are you leaving alone? I thought we were going to train the pack.”
Shit. This would have been so much easier to do, fuck, in a note or hieroglyphs or smoke signals or some shit. Not face to face. Not with Redford looking beautiful and worried and with that crease in his forehead that made Jed want to kiss away every line. “I gotta go, Fido,” he managed, voice breaking. “This place, this is where you belong. And I didn’t want to see it, I didn’t, but come on. Who are we foolin’?” Jed forced his lips into an aching smile. “I can’t be what you need. You should stay here. And I…. I have to go.”
He brushed past Redford, heading out the door, keys to the van clutched so tightly in his hand he could feel them cutting into his palm. Knievel was crying in her cage, nails scratching at the sides of the carrier as if to try to get out. Jed knew the feeling.
Redford followed him. “You’re leaving me,” he concluded. “Jed, why—where did this come from? I love you, and I know you love me. The only reason I like it here is because you’re here with me.” With two quick steps, Redford bounded his way in front of Jed, stopping him in his tracks. “Why do you have to go?”
Shoulders straight, eyes fixed somewhere over Redford’s left shoulder, Jed couldn’t help the broken little laugh that escaped. “How was that shift for you?” he asked quietly. “Didn’t seem like it hurt as much.”
“It was… okay?” Redford looked like he didn’t know if he was giving the right answer. “I mean, I think I’m getting better.”
“I think you are too.” Damn it, his voice cracked again. Jed just clenched his teeth, refusing to give in to the yawning agony starting to eat through his veins. “I think that this place is making you better. I’m not. That’s why I have to go, okay? I’ve got to give you your best chance. This is it. Not me.”
“That’s not—” Redford broke off, frustrated. “Jed, can we just sit down and talk about this? Please? I can’t think straight when you’re packed and wanting to leave.”
“There’s nothing to say.” He had to keep walking, he had to get the fuck out of here, because if he looked at Redford, if he had to really look at what he was going to be leaving, Jed didn’t know if he’d be able to stand it. “You need someone who can be there for you—”
“You’re there for me!” Redford insisted. “You’ve always been there for me.”
“I corrupted you.” Christ, he was not going to fucking cry. “I turned you into something you shouldn’t have been. You’re good, Redford, you are really, really fucking good. And I’m… not.” Jed started walking again, hitching his bag up farther on his shoulder. “You need someone who’s not going to put you in cages. Or who will keep up with you, or not get old, or, fuck, just… not me, okay? It’s never going to be me.”
“Jed.” Oh, fuck, Redford had gotten that pleading tone in his voice. Jed hated that tone, because he could usually never resist it. “Please don’t leave.” Redford was following him still, light footsteps accompanying his words. “Whatever horrible things you think you did, it’s not true. You’re just being hard on yourself. You don’t have to leave.”
Redford caught up again. Jed saw him move out of the corner of his eye as Redford reached for his arm. Redford’s fingers closed on the bandages, where the bite wound was, and Jed hissed in pain, instinctively jerking back. They both stood there, guilt flushing Redford’s face, resignation souring in Jed’s gut. “You bit me because you couldn’t even think straight,” Jed intoned quietly. “You ripped out that guy’s throat. You were covered in his blood, and you would have killed me too. You would have killed anyone who got in your way. That’s not on you, Redford. That’s not your fault. It’s mine. Instead of figuring out how to help you deal with shit, I just…. I treated you like you were me. Like you were a hardened son of a bitch instead of who you are. And I made it worse.”
“So you’re leaving me because of that?” Anybody else would have sounded angry or incredulous. Redford just looked miserable. “I never expected you to solve my problems, Jed, but—but I’m sorry I got them all over you. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to solve them myself.”
Jesus fuck. Jed dropped his bag, he set Knievel’s carrier on the ground, and he turned to grasp Redford’s shoulders. “Shut up,” he spat miserably. “Jesus, shut up and listen to me. You are strong. You are… fuck, you’re perfect, you are brave and sweet and everything that I….” Jesus fuck, he really was crying. Goddamn it. “I am leaving because I love you.”
Jed’s voice was thick and tight, like a string pulled back almost to the breaking point. “Because everywhere I look, the facts are piling up that I’m nothing more than a pile of shit for you. You’re going to have a good life here. You’re going to figure out how to be who you are. I can’t be here for that. Wish I could. God.” Jed brushed his fingers across Redford’s cheek. “God, you have no idea how much. But you and me, that’s not good for you. So it’s time I stopped being selfish and I walked away.”
“If you love me, then you should stay,” Redford begged.
“It’s not that simple anymore, Fido.” Jed picked up his bag, Knievel’s cage, and made his weary way to the van. He threw his stuff inside, getting his cat settled in the front seat. “Tell the professor I’m sorry about stranding him.” Pausing, swallowing hard, Jed dared a look back over his shoulder. “Good-bye, Redford.”
“Jed,” Redford tried, but his voice broke off and it seemed like he couldn’t find any more words to say. His expression was just as effective as anything he could have said. Jed could read him like a goddamn book, and he only needed a glance to know what he was feeling. That frown was guilt, that crease at the corner of his eyes was upset, the way his eyes were wider than usual was hurt. Redford tried again. “Jed, please. Don’t leave me.”
Damn it.
It only took two steps to be there, to be cupping Redford’s cheek and to draw him in for a kiss. It was hard and desperate. Jed thought he could taste his own tears on Redford’s lips, or maybe those were Redford’s on his. It didn’t matter. He drew back, carefully neutral expression completely broken. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to Redford’s for a moment. “I love you. God, Red, I love you so damn much.”
Which was why he had to go. Everything in Jed was fighting against it, but he wanted to do something good. To give Redford the chance he hadn’t before. So Jed turned and got in the van, refusing to look back. He started the engine and drove toward the gate. He couldn’t look back. If he did, if he caught one more sight of Redford looking so goddamn hurt, Jed didn’t know if he’d be strong enough to keep going.
There were a few wolves at the gate, part of the pack’s patrol. They let him through, and thank God no one commented on how wrecked Jed looked. He wasn’t in the mood to play nice.
The nearest town was nearly two hours out, which was enough of a drive for Jed to realize he needed alcohol. Lots and lots of fucking alcohol. He hadn’t gotten really blackout drunk since he’d met Redford, but now seemed like an excellent time to pick that habit back up. He found a little liquor store already open despite the early hour and stocked up. Jed didn’t want to start the drive back to his place just yet. The apartment was going to be covered in Redford’s things, was going to have his pillow on the bed, his clothes in the closet. Every inch of it would remind Jed that Redford was gone. So no, he was in no rush to get back there.
Instead he got himself a hotel room. It was tiny and shitty and it smelled like mold. He didn’t give a fuck. Jed locked the door, he did a sweep of the room, set up his weapons in easy to reach locations, and he started drinking.
He didn’t stop until he’d passed out, curled around an old shirt of Redford’s he’d accidentally packed with him, sobbing his damn eyes out.