The Outsiders

(Happy Ending)

Four Years Later.

Soum Menjivar

Time was the medicine that held us by our hand.

Two years had gone so quickly, yet there was a drag to it. Khristopher still could only move his hands, but there was still hope in the air. With the help of the Jaiocm Pack, we slowly constructed the bricks, the roof, the window, the cellar, the furniture, and the appliances that we called home. Every night before bed, Ocmjai made it a rule to read them and Khristopher to sleep. It would take weeks to finish a book, of course. Ocmjai always seemed to fall asleep quicker to the beat of Khristopher's heart than the rhythm of my words.

Though winters were tough, Ocmjai made it work, as I would shift into my wolf for the night to preserve heat in the small house. Once the Jaiocm Pack were settled, Ock soon went to school again in their pack grounds, leaving me with Khristopher after I gave him a wolf ride to school.

During birthdays or anniversaries, Spareaux asked to take care of Ocmjai, knowing I would be grieving. Knowing Ocmjai had another figure in his life to look up to put my mind at ease. Sometimes Spareaux and Ocmjai would even spar and train when Spareaux wasn't busy dealing with The Cauldron of Caldwick. Many of the Vampires fled from the battle field, moving north and joining other Caldrons after Ptomatteo's death was announced. Ocmjai sometimes preferred Spareaux's company, telling me that, "Bird Man was a good uncle while simultaneously being a terrible influence."

After the first year anniversary of the end of the War on Caldwick, Spareaux and Ocmjai's relationship flourished into one of kin. Though Ock still grieved Khristopher, Spareaux was always there with a wooden sward, ready to tell stories of Caldwick when Khristopher and him were still kids. Though it brought some sadness thinking how much Khristopher was missing, it gave me pause knowing that he could sense us.

Ever since the battle on Caldwick, the only thing I yearned for was to see his smile, the way his eyes shifted when embarrassed. The hue of his cheeks, the glimmer in his eye, the hue of his eyes. I'd only hold him in my arms, tell him how much I loved him, how much I needed him next to me. I wasn't scared I was going to lose him again — for the most part — but I feared he would lose too much time with Ock. When he wakes up, I only hope it's not too late for any of us.

Sometimes I would run my finger against his mark, or take his and in mine and place it on my heart. I just wanted him to know how much I cared, how much I wanted him to be here. No one really knew what happened between Khristopher and Promatteo. But from what I saw, it was regret. Khristopher blamed himself for it all. Every death, every cry, every loss; Khristopher put it all on his shoulders. Sometimes I would kiss his forehead, just to try to remind him that it wasn't his fault.

When it was only the two of us in a room, I would cradle him while I tried to hold back my tears. Just the thought of him breaking, of Khristopher losing the battle against his own thoughts, made my stomach churn. Was it my fault? Was I not there enough? Should I have tried harder? Even with my mate in my arms, I still fell into my own intoxicated thoughts where scorn reigned supreme.

              Taking my hand in his, I left my thoughts as I caressed his skin. Though pale, time had brought just the inkling of blush over his knuckles. It wasn't much, but it was a sign he was getting better. With  soft smile, I brought his hand to my face, kissing it before resting it on my stubbly cheek.