The Good Intentions of a Cyborg Werewolf

You Scratch my Back - XXVIII

The rest of the day seemed to crawl by. After Luke's recovery all four of them were moved to a temporary room. They were all given new clothes, a chance to clean up, and Mercer was placed back in a bed for observation. Much to his chagrin. Luke wasn't happy when he learned where they were taken, but he didn't seem upset with Erin. He agreed with her judgement call, but made it clear accepting help from Joan was not something he was pleased with. When asked to elaborate he gave his typical nondescript grunt response, and Erin was too tired to press the matter. Now they were waiting for evening and for Joan to wake up, and the intermediate time was spent taking stock.

They didn't have much left. The clothes on their backs, the Assembler, and whatever equipment was left in the van. Mercer had wiped his computers just before the fake broke in, lest his research fall into CB's hands. All gene sequences for the Lycan Shots were gone, and while Mercer was confident he had memorised them, it would take time to recreate the sequencing. To say nothing of the material cost. All it meant was Luke had one Shot left, and they only managed that because he had left it in his pocket. It was not an ideal situation. Mercer had lost everything and so had Erin. They were displaced, homeless, and had no idea how to recover. All they could do was wait, heal, and hope that Joan could extend her hospitality just a bit further. None of these options satisfied Luke, and he abruptly stormed out in the middle of a protracted silence, ignoring any question of where he was going or when he'd be back.

"I can't blame him," Erin said as she relaxed in a chair next to Mercer's bed. Her hand still hurt, but she didn't want to keep taking pain meds, and the physical pain was minute compared to everything they went through. Even thinking of it made her feel guilty.

"Lucas is never content to be idle," Mercer said softly. He had also been given medication for the pain, and though the excitement hadn't torn his stitches, his injury was catching up to him along with his lack of sleep. "I do wish he'd be less aggressive, though."

"Yeah," Erin chuckled, "I don't think I've ever seen him not slam a door when he leaves." She shifted in her seat. Mahi had already drifted off in the only other chair in the room, his laid-back attitude serving him well during the prolonged wait, leaving Mercer and Erin alone.

"I want to apologise," Mercer said in a sombre tone, "for everything I've put you through."

"Don't," Erin held up her hand, "I chose this, and my mind hasn't changed. You have nothing to be sorry for." She gave him a cocksure smile and a playful point, "I'm tougher than I look."

"It's not just that," Mercer swallowed, as though he were ashamed. He took a deep breath, "I worry I've put you in greater danger."

"You're talking about Luke?" Erin asked, and Mercer seemed to look at her with surprise. "I mean, it's pretty obvious. You have to prepare for any eventuality, and a revolver seemed a bit small for dealing with fakes."

"He's aware of it," Mercer said, "in fact it was originally his suggestion."

"I don't doubt it," Erin nodded. "Everyone keeps reminding me that he's an animal, especially Luke himself. It's not that I don't believe them, I just don't think you give him enough credit."

"It's not like that," Mercer said, "I trust Lucas entirely, but if he were to ever revert to his true form he wouldn't be Lucas anymore."

"Why?" Erin asked, "I mean you've met him once before he was on the suppressants and you told me he was remorseful?"

"He was," Mercer adjusted his glasses, "it's just that when he told me that it was through a mouthful of human flesh." Mercer adjusted his angle in his bed to be more upright so he could more comfortably look at Erin. "Lucas' own thoughts and feelings do nothing to temper his instincts. If anything the clashing of them fuels it. Imagine trying to hold your breath until you suffocate. It's impossible, because eventually your body will overwrite your intentions and force you to breathe again. Only you won't just breathe, you'll gasp, desperate to make up for the oxygen you deprived yourself of. Lucas has only been the way he is for over a year now. That is a hardly relevant fraction of his lifespan."