Returning Too Late [Aaron/Tsu]

[tsukikoko]

Wisps and whispers seeped between his fangs like condensing breath, running down his chin, the fur of his chest and legs, only to pool within the indentations of his paw prints in the narrow window with which they lingered. Beset upon by waifs and strays, the trail was soon cold and gone, scattered amongst a thousand tiny hints of emotion, elements or concepts all scrambling to taste of such a potent, gifted essence. The swirling mixture of rumour and shared experience never quite solidified, but neither broke as a snapped line might, for he made sure not to pull too tight or bite too hard. Impressions, not quite words or memories, left a taste upon his tongue and flashing images behind his eyes.

He never should have left.

The damage was extensive, far-reaching and almost too impossible to fathom. Everything in chaos, ripping apart at the seams with no signs of slowing. His territory was in tatters, undefended on so many fronts. Even simply traversing the spiritual plane was wrought with peril and, given his current condition, the old werewolf was in no fit state to combat it.

He had allowed his rage to consume him; become embroiled in a hatred and thirst for vengeance so potent he had near drowned in it.

Yet what was there to show? No Rhys, not even a hint of her scent now it faded from his skin. His heart and soul ached at the loss, a gaping wound sown in her absence and that of his unborn pups. To say nothing of the shame, creeping beneath his skin. He had repeated the mistakes of his youth, abandoned his pack when they needed him most.

Yet how could he not, when the agony of his mate's abduction threatened to burn him alive? How could he not have tried? The beast within him, ever lurking and snarling just beneath the surface, longed to feel the flesh of his enemy, the person who dared take Rhys from him, tear like wet tissue beneath the force of his fangs.

Yet even his most vicious of facets was torn, approaching with a lowered head and apologetic whine, to the pack who had suffered in his sudden absence.

Tsu exhaled a slow breath, scattering the spiritual reside from his jaws and allowing it to return wherever it desired. His paw rested upon the reflective surface of a puddle, left behind in the last rainstorm to blow through, and allowed himself to step across the veil. The WDSA stood solid and physical before him, no longer warped and twisted by the many spiritual influences to alter it's reflection.

For a man so large, the silvering werewolf could avoid attention with the best of them, when he had to. He never approached corridors containing other people, not a soul caught sight of his enormous frame as he slipped around corners or loped up stairs, tracking a scent he knew rather well. Even though he had only just returned and many would no doubt want his attention, there was one person in particular within this building he wished to see, before all others.

After all, he was not the only one to have suffered the loss of their beloved.

[MP]

Tension. Exhaustion. These were written on every face in the department, despite the small victory of the latest operation. Lately, the two conflicting forces never left the agent's frame. Aaron tried to focus on his the half-written report - another case of warp - but his thoughts kept drifting.

Agents followed the instructions of the monitoring anchor agent and were able to contain the irregular patch of warp by guiding its spread toward..."

Contained. For how long? They'd only seen an uptick in these cases and their severity since the last attack. And Occult still couldn't give them an answers on how to use the keys. Had it been worth the cost, when Atol had been right here - right here in the heart of HQ? If they'd delayed the operation, could they have caught him? Stopped him? Would Sara even now be home and safe? The thought was maddening. The helplessness was worse. They were entirely dependent on the anchor network, on the Occult researchers puzzling over the keys, on the director's continued resistance or Atol's indulgence. There was nothing for him to do but focus on these symptom cases and wait.

He realized with a dull start that his fingers had stopped on the keyboard. That the frustration had drawn his shoulder so tense, his chest so tight, they almost ached. Aaron forced himself to sit back, rubbing his eyes. He couldn't focus. He couldn't bring himself to rest. Not for long. Not with the strain of all there was to do, and all they hadn't done. One task at a time. One word. He forced his fingers back into motion, forced the details onto the page, checking each sentence over again when his focus failed.

[tsukikoko]

Perhaps it was the length of a shadow through the room, or another series of breaths suddenly independent of Aaron's own, or maybe even an instinctive sense of another presence; regardless of what might alert him, when Aaron next glanced away from the page, a familiar, exceedingly tall figure stood leaning against the doorframe.

Familiar, but rather worse for wear.

His clothes were in tatters, while dirt, twigs and a dried substance that looked suspiciously like blood peppered Tsu's hair and skin. What had been a coating of salt-and-pepper stubble across his face was now a full beard, and a pervasive scent of wet canine clung to the air around him. The werewolf looked, and smelled, as though he had just crawled straight out of a ditch.

Still, he flashed a warm, if exhausted and brief, lopsided smile. The relief and genuine affection, animal-like in its intensity, was plain to see as Tsu looked upon the other man.

"Hello Aaron-"

On second appraisal his apparent casual lean was more of a slumped collapse against the doorframe. The silvering man's breathing, though kept remarkably steady, rattled slightly through his chest. Black circles, so dark they looked akin to bruises, stained the skin beneath his eyes - a common look for many in the workplace, of late.

Yet all that likely paled in comparison to his left arm, which had been clearly severed just above the elbow.

His gaze fell to the floor, a heavy weight seeming to land upon the werewolf's back as he sagged lower.

"-I heard what happened, with Sara."

[MP]

All the tension, the pent up frustration and coiled readiness after the recent attacks, snapped to the fore at the figure's silent appearance. Aaron half lunged up from his seat, the chair squealing back on its wheels as the motion jarred it out of the way. The agent was haggard, barely shaven; he might have aged ten years since Sara had been taken. But the shadows under his eyes only emphasized the harsh intensity in them, and the aggression in the agent's frame. Atol had proven that nowhere was fully safe. But the intensity changed to confusion as he recognized the figure. Aaron's shoulders relaxed a fraction, but there was no answering warmth in his face.

Wariness was the next emotion to surface. Wariness, or something more complex. Something darker, bleaker. More guarded. All of it was contained to his eyes, which flickered over the werewolf's tattered appearance, over the space where an arm should have been. That at least seemed to blunt the mix of emotions there. That is, until the mention of Sara.

There was a mental recoil, a twist like a knife in his chest, and then the shutter came down. Euphemisms, platitudes, condolences - he couldn't take one more of them. What subtle emotion there was in the agent's eyes left them. The pause, the extra breaths of silence, were the only indication of his feelings. When Aaron spoke, his voice was perfectly even.

"You should be in Medical. You look like hell."

[tsukikoko]

The werewolf, similarly, didn't have the same level of near unshakeable calm and often goofiness he was known for. There was a feral wildness swimming too close to the surface. The bulk of his frame, even despite his battered condition, seemed even bigger somehow. There was a gold shine behind the deep brown of his eyes, reflecting that wildness back at the Agent when the dark of Aaron's emotions became apparent.

Yet it wasn't irritation, or even hurt, that emerged in Tsu's watchful expression; it was understanding, tainted with beastial, carefully held savagery though it was. He knew, deeply and terribly, how even the mention of his mate was enough to rend his chest in two. The same could be the case for Aaron.

"I'm sure Medical have enough on their plate, you know me, just need somewhere to lie down for a while."
The old werewolf gripped the doorframe with his one hand, claws he hadn't even realised were still present biting into the wood. With a raised eyebrow and a glance at his own wolfish features, they retreated back into blunt fingernails. Soon after, his attention swung back to Aaron, his expression sombre.
"And I wanted to talk to you. To say I'm sorry that I wasn't here. So much has happened and I.. I allowed my mate's disappearance to consume me..." He trailed off, eyes downturned and a muscle working in his jaw. The conflicting shame and anger was a palpable force; though he had returned, a portion of the werewolf wanted to be out searching for Rhys even now. He exhaled, slowly.

"With Sara's abduction, I don't... know exactly how you feel, but I can relate. I wanted to see how you were faring."

[MP]

There, beneath the surface of his flat stare. Aggression. It was the look of a cornered animal, of a man fighting the pull of an impossible drop. It was an anger born of desperation. Aaron drew in a silent breath. The Gold was going through the same thing, whispered more rational thoughts. Hemming meant well. He meant well. Still, the knife twisted.

"Don't do this right now," he said softly, his tone clipped. "I can't do this."

He needed to stay productive. Stay functional. He couldn't do that breaking down. But he couldn't do it angry either. Aaron breathed out, forcing the fight to drain from his shoulders. In its place, the fatigue returned. He sighed and pulled out the chair beside his own, turning it outward.

"Sit down if you need to." he said, waving the werewolf vaguely toward the seat as he turned back to his desk. He didn't want the company, but the werewolf looked liable to collapse. "But just...don't."

[tsukikoko]

Aaron's tone reminded Tsu of a wounded animal, snapping at anything and everything that came close. He glanced at the grudgingly offered chair, but thought, given his own tenuous mental state, that it better if perhaps he gave the Agent space, lest either one of them walk away bitten. There was a small inclination of the tall man's head, hardly even a discernable movement, to acknowledge Telmore's demand that he not push the issue.

Just as the silvering werewolf pushed himself into a more upright position, however, his vision tunnelled and began to turn grey at the edges. He'd been burning too much for too long. When had he even slept last? Sitting might be a necessity, at least for a few minutes.

A loud, slumping thud signalled Tsu's staggering collapse into the chair, his legs stuck out at odd angles as his frame dwarfed the furniture. His mumbled thanks oozed with an exhaustion he couldn't hope to hide, yet the werewolf kept both eyes open and focused.

"You able to give me a summary of where we're at with the situation?" Now, when Tsu spoke, his tone was all efficiency and non-emotive composure. Not that he'd stopped caring, far from it, but the other Agent had made it quite clear he did not want such an interaction. "I appreciate the timing and circumstances are less than ideal but, I've got to be honest with you, now I've sat down I'm not sure I can get back up again for a few moments at least." The werewolf raised one shoulder. "Thought, while I'm here, perhaps I can learn something so I can focus myself where I'm most useful. All I've gleaned so far are impressions,  rumours and the fallout I've seen for myself, which doesn't tell the whole story. Though..." the Gold scratched his silvering beard with his remaining hand, tone completely non-judgemental, "-if you'd rather not or are too busy, I can make myself into a decent rendition of a silent chair ornament."

[MP]

There was a brief clack of keys as Aaron finished the hanging sentence of his report. His expression was wooden, but beneath it, shame and stubbornness mingled. He wasn't trying to ignore the werewolf, was aware of how his behavior looked, but he needed to do something - anything to bring his emotions back to center. The work helped focus him. After a few moments, he felt steady enough to answer.

"We recovered keys from two different Soundless cells operating in the area. Two of Atol's commanders were apprehended, and Occult thinks we can hijack the keys to Sidelis using their signatures. In the meantime, we're limiting field operations to emergencies. There's been a security breach."

Aaron hesitated to continue. Hemming, more than anyone, had motive and the ability to pursue Atol. If he found out about recent events, there were weren't many agents who could stop him in time. He chose his words carefully.

"HQ was attacked while we were deployed. Targeting the anchor team - we think Atol wanted to bring down the stabilization network." Aaron's mouth pulled down a fraction. "Decker fought him off, but we lost the warp specialist. Network's holding, but the anchor team says we have weeks, tops. Our able field agents are standing by for deployment, once we get the word from Occult."

If, a black thought corrected. But he dared not voice the word.

[tsukikoko]

There was no direct outward change in Tsu's expression or demeanour, as Aaron explained, save perhaps a twinkle of pride for those who had apprehended the keys and commanders.

But the moment the words 'HQ was attacked' left Telmore's lips, the air seemed to thicken, become oppressive and ominous as a building thunderstorm. The injured werewolf still looked exhausted and barely capable of movement, but now there was a deathly stillness to his body and facial expression more predatory than tired. The glint of gold behind his eyes seemed to burn with an abrupt intensity.

The heart of his pack, WDSA HQ itself, had been attacked and where had he been?

The idea of the attack turned Tsu's blood to steam, fanned the flames of rage in his soul to a near inferno.

While the reminder, yet again, that he had been absent while his pack needed him, drenched him in a choking quagmire of shame.

It was the shame and perhaps thoughts of Aaron's own safety, which allowed the silvering werewolf to wrest control back over himself. He acknowledged the anger, but tried to exhale at least a portion of it in an outward breath. Tsu focused himself on practicality, on what might be done to help him pack.

On how he could help with the access to Sidelis. To where his beloved would be.

When next he spoke, there was a hint of a growl laced into Hemming's voice,
"How is Occult faring? Have we retained the top expertise, or have they been targeted too? Who's coordinating the anchor team, now the warp specialist is gone?"

[MP]

Aaron pretended not to hear the growling undertone.

"No news from Occult yet. No attacks either. They used cloaking last time, so there's new alarms and etheric protections in place. "

Magic, unfortunately, had never been his forte, for all Koji's efforts. The nature of these protections, as well as Occult's progress, were still Greek to him.

"Luke Heden's taken charge of the anchor team and their security measures."

And done so with the man's easy charisma and decisiveness, despite the circumstances. That at least was a silver lining. One of the earliest recruits to the network, the man had served as acting coordinator on multiple occasions in which the specialist had to step out.

"He saw the attack. Gave us a good rundown of what we need to ward for."

[tsukikoko]

Slowly, ever so slowly, Tsu leant forward in his seat, until he could rest his remaining arm upon his own thigh and stare straight ahead. He nodded slightly.
"Good, good."
He had a list of people to talk to, a few tasks already adding themselves to a checklist in his head. It was a way to channel and focus his anger, at least for now.

"And what of you?" The werewolf's gaze slid sidelong to the other Agent, an air of fixation even though he wasn't staring straight on. "What did you experience of what Atol can do?"

[MP]

The silence stretched into something uneasy. But it wasn't shame, or even Aaron's usual reserve. He glanced sideways at the werewolf, the corner of his mouth slanting.

"The department has my written statement," he said. "It'll give you more detail than I can."

He didn't completely trust his current memory, blurry with days weeks of sleep deprivation, tied to the emotions that went with it. He'd replayed those moments over and over, agonizing over the what ifs, the little things he might have done to change what had happened, and he'd seen time and time again how time could color a witness' perspective. But even that wasn't his foremost concern.

"What are you doing?" he asked flatly. Exhaustion had robbed his words of any tact or delicacy. "If you want to get up to speed, you check in with Decker or Charlene - not a junior agent."

No one had mentioned Hemming's return yet; he hadn't been present at the morning's meetings, debriefings, or check-ins. Now he appeared directly at Aaron's desk, asking for details. It reminded Aaron, unpleasantly so, of the Director's methods. How Lonan had gone to Sara first, on his own terms rather than through the proper channels.

"Do they even know you're back?" Aaron turned to look at him fully. "Or are you going to take what I tell you and disappear again?"

It was built up distrust and frustration behind the concerns - at Hemming and Rhys for their thoughtlessness and dishonesty, at the department, at himself. But through it all, the agent's voice was even, his eyes appraising. Aaron wasn't snapping or lashing out. Hemming had already done it once. 

"I can tell you how many people have turned up dead, dying, or warped after trying to take down Atol. Uratha or not, I'm not helping you do it."

[tsukikoko]

For a moment, just a moment, something vicious flickered across the old werewolf's gaze. More than that, it built in the air. Dark. Threatening. A near physical presence looming above and around even the large man's impressive frame, as though the exhaustion threaded through him no longer mattered. Tsu could feel the beast beneath his skin, bristling at a perceived obstruction to its single biggest focus - retrieving his lost mate. Missing limbs be damned. Used to easy domination and solving recent events with more than a little violence, such a flat refusal rose the wolf's hackles dangerously. Images of pinning the agent by his throat until he surrendered everything he knew flickered across Hemming's mind.

But Tsu knew he had given himself over to his monstrous side more than was good for his fractured soul of late. The man in him recognised his inner response for the inappropriate reaction it was, especially towards a human packmate and in a situation where procedure should be adhered to.

Hemming blinked and the presence evaporated. With a shake of his head, a sigh of his weary, guilt-ridden breath and a sweep of his remaining hand over his face, the silvering werewolf said softly,
"No. No. I'm not going to disappear again. And, no, they don't know I'm here yet." He held up a placating hand - the only one he had available, really. "But I had every intention of telling them. Still do." One shoulder raised and lowered in a small, almost sad shrug. "Honestly, it's like I said, I came to see how you were holding up. Wasn't sure I'd get the chance else. Then I planned to let the department know I was back, take whatever reprimand I'm owed and make myself useful from there."

He made no comment on his thoughts of taking down Atol, of wanting to tear the man apart himself regardless of how many had already died or been horrifically transformed in the attempt. The werewolf felt it, viscerally, but he knew and even craved the backing of a pack, for this. He couldn't do it alone and he knew it. No matter how much rage thrummed in his core.

With a slow exhale, Tsu leant back in his seat until his head and shoulders tipped over the back of the chair. The movement exposed the top of a ugly wound starting in the dip between his ribs; clearly deep if the brief shine of bone was any indication, but the span of it was hidden beneath what remained of the Gold's clothes. He hardly seemed to pay it mind.

"That was my intention and instead I ended up grilling you for information." The werewolf sat back up again (with effort), an apologetic smile on his face. "I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry."

[MP]

I don't want your sorry, snarled an inner voice. He was sick to death of the delicacy, the way they danced around the problems, talking about anything and everything else. The way they'd always done.

That wasn't fair of him. That was old anger talking. The agent kept his eyes on his files, using the familiar shuffle of papers to bring the inner anger to heel. He turned to his laptop and selected the last item of an outgoing requisition - gear his team would need for the coming raid on Sidelis - before nodding.

"It's understandable," he said at last.

It was the most honest reply he could give while still keeping a lid on his temper. Aaron pushed back in his chair, finally relenting. He looked the werewolf over again, at the white glimpse of bone, a frown lingering at the corners of his mouth.

"You really should be down at Medical." he said again. "I can help you there. Notify your branch chief for you."