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Somewhere Between	By : AceMaxwell Category: G through L > Hellboy Views: 13422 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hellboy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
- John

I blink several times before I realize I'm staring at the ceiling. I'm still wondering what happened when Eon's face appears above mine. Her brow is all scrunched up with concern, and she's poking my forehead. I can't be sure how long she's been doing that.

"I'm alright," comes out before I can really process what's going on. My voice croaks a little.

She doesn't look convinced, but at least she stops poking me.

"What happened? Weren't we working on sign language?"

Eon nods and makes some primitive signs that I get easily enough.

"I fainted?" I ask her.

It doesn't seem very likely. I've never fainted before in my life. She nods vigorously though. Maybe I'm sicker than I thought I was. I haven't been doing exceedingly well since I found out Manning stabbed me in back. There's probably no direct relation between the two events, but it sure felt like I took a dive after Dr. Andrews broke the news to me. That night, I couldn't sleep a wink and it felt like my stomach was revolting. It's made me pretty grumpy.

The Doc is still here at the bakery, to be available in case I got worse, so it would probably be best if I utilize that resource. "Maybe I should go see Dr. Andrews."

Eon nods again and wraps her little hand around my arm, trying to help me to my feet. I, on the other hand, try not to fall on her when I realize how shaky I am. After a second on my feet, the world starts to stabilize. I'm silently thankful. I don't think I could've gotten to Andrews's office with the floor pitching out of control.

Despite my attempt to reassure Eon, she follows me down the hall like she could do something if I passed out again. It's cute, it really is, but I'm kind of afraid of collapsing on her. I'm not that heavy, but I could still hurt her pretty badly.

Yvette is coming the other direction. Hopefully I can pass Eon off with her. I'm opening my mouth to ask if she'll take Eon to the kitchen to get a snack, when Yvette trips over absolutely nothing and falls flat on her face. Her cussing starts immediately.

"Son of a BITCH!"

I cover Eon's ears.

"Son of a fucking bitch! Rex, I've told you a hundred times not to sleep in the hall!" she screams at the floor.

I'm starting to seriously doubt her sanity until the air seems to shimmer where she tripped. There's a massive color fluctuation around an unfamiliar shape and nasty-looking creature appears, head hung low at Yvette's scolding. It clacks two mandibles together and shrinks away from her. When she's exhausted the sailor's alphabet, she lights a new cigarette and stomps off.

The creature slinks to Eon, giving me a look as it passes. As I watch it, its skin turns at least fifteen different colors. It finally settles on a deep amber hue as it rubs on Eon. It's like a chameleon or an octopus, except far more advanced… and alien looking. It's almost built like a dog, but it's so very different. Its wide head hangs low to the ground and is framed by two mandibles that seem to retract into its jaw (I don't think I want to know what those are used for). The last thing I notice is the bizarre texture of its skin. When it's visible, it almost looks like rock.

Eon pats the creature's head and it (he?) starts clicking contently. When I reach for it, the clicking immediately turns into a deep growl. I pull my hand back before I lose it.

"I take it he doesn't like most people?"

Eon shakes her head.

"Right," I sigh and continue down the hall.

I was so busy marveling at how many cuss words Yvette knew that I completely forgot to ask her to take Eon with her. Eon and her pet continue to trail after me. When I get to Dr. Andrews's office, I turn and crouch to her level.

"I think I'll be okay from here. Why don't you go play for a little while?"

She makes a face that immediately turns into worry.

I smile at her as reassuringly as I can, "Go on, I'll be fine." I ruffle her hair and she finally shuffles off, casting several looks over her shoulder as she goes. Once Eon and Rex disappear around the corner, I knock on the doctor's door.

A slightly muffled voice comes through, "You may enter."

Dr. Andrew's office is the one I saw when I first got here (the one lined with books). I found out later that the books he keeps at The Society's base are all reference material on werewolves. It's like our library at the bureau, except with a specialization. Apparently, he didn't want to keep them at the university he works at because people ask too many questions.

Dr. Andrews smiles at me as I flop in the chair opposite his desk, asking, "How are you feeling?"

He cuts straight to the chase, but that works for me. "I fainted," I tell him, leaning forward to judge his reaction. If he freaks out, then it's a good sign that I'll be allowed to freak out. I'm just hoping he'll start his next sentence with 'That's normal in (this) kind of situation' or something like it. When his brows knit together and he sits back in his chair, I start getting nervous.

"Is there something really wrong with me?" I ask quietly. I'm not sure that I want to know, but I don't really want to be surprised when a random organ stops working.

He muses a long time, his fingers steepled under his chin. After he's left me hanging long enough that I'm convinced I'm going to drop dead of some rare disease, he finally says something.

"I'm going to ask you a personal question, John, and I need you to be very honest when you answer me."

"Ok," I mumble, still trying to figure out what kind of exotic virus I could possibly have picked up.

"Have you slept with anyone since you became a wolf?"

Even if I did want to lie to him, he would know the truth from the blush that's spreading. Let's face it, I suck at lying no matter what the subject. My uncle always knew when I was trying to 'pull the wool over his eyes', as he put it.

"Um, yes," I admit, feeling my face get hotter.

"That explains a lot," he says, relaxing. A smile breaks onto his face and infectious, killer diseases fade from my head. "You're feeling ill because there's such a large distance between you and your mate." His smile fades, "I'm glad you don't have some kind of sickness, but this isn't exactly good news. A wolf can't survive without its mate."

I blink at him dumbly, "Am I going to get worse?"

With a grunt, Andrews pushes out of his chair and goes to the shelves. "Unfortunately, yes. Without any contact with your mate…" he pauses and glances over his shoulder at me, "If you don't mind me asking, who is your mate?"

My blush comes back full force. "Hellboy," I mutter quietly.

Andrews raises an eyebrow, "I don't have your ears John, especially at my age, you're going to have to speak up."

I hang my head and say it again, more loudly, "Hellboy."

His other eyebrow heads towards his hairline to meet with the first as he stares at me. I'm waiting to see which way his opinion will fall. He'll either be disgusted by the whole concept, or surprisingly okay with it, but it won't be anywhere in between.

Andrews turns back to the shelf and pulls down an old, leather-bound book. "Well, considering his behavior, and yours, around the time of your change, it's not that unexpected." He sets the book down on the desk, continuing, "Not to mention the fact that you haven't taken off his jacket since you got here."

I look down at the worn leather and realize that I'm petting it absently with my thumb. I stop. "Was it that obvious?" I ask.

Dr. Andrews flips the book open with a smile, "Oh, yes." He tabs through it until he finds whatever he's looking for. "He was extremely concerned for your well-being and he really didn't seem the type to act that way over his teammates. Not to mention that you allowed him to handle you so soon after your change. The first change is such a jarring, painful event that a new wolf if often stressed enough to attack anyone that comes near it, even familiar people," he explains as he finds a particular line with his finger. He puts on a pair of glasses to read it, "Here we are. It has been documented that a wolf can live no longer than six to eight months without the presence of their mate. A prolonged separation will cause fits of rage, depression, and a loss of appetite, among other symptoms."

"That doesn't really explain me passing out," I mention when the fact enters my mind.

He shuts the book, "The only answer I have for that is your connection to Hellboy. Something must have happened that rendered him unconscious and you passed out in response."

That idea completely dumbfounds me. What could possibly have knocked out HB? He's like a tank! In all the time I've worked with him and all the shit I've seen him endure, he's only ever been knocked unconscious once, and that was because he withstood the full brunt of Liz's attack in Russia. ONCE! He would've had to have been hit by a train… No, he's been hit by a train, it didn't do much…

My guts twist into a knot as my worrywart kicks in. I hope he's okay. "What could have knocked him out?" I mutter, more to myself than to Andrews.

Despite that, he's got an answer for me, "I have to tell you, I left some heavy-duty tranquilizers with the BPRD. They were meant for you, in case something happened and you lost control, but I suspect it would easily take down your mate."

"What? HB's three times my size, what kind of tranquilizer did you give them?"

"A werewolf doesn't stay down easily, John. That rapid metabolism that helps you heal also makes it nearly impossible to drop you for any length of time," he explains, putting his book away.

"Oh…" I slouch back into the chair, brooding. I'm torn between being angry with them thinking I needed to be dealt with like a dog and the fact that they DID treat HB that way.

Andrews's words break into my thoughts, "Knowing you the way I do now, I realize that you don't have the natural tendencies of most wolves, so it was an unnecessary precaution. It was fortunate that you took most of your human personality through the change. A good number of humans that make the change become more instinctual." He scratches the back of his head, "Anyway, we'll have to get you transferred back as quickly as possible."

I nod, getting up to go.

"One more thing, John."

I turn.

Andrews pulls off his glasses and asks, "Manning didn't inform you of your transfer so I'm sure I already know the answer to this, but, just for clarification, did you sign any forms agreeing to move to the Society?"

"No." I almost spit the word.

"Alright. I know it doesn't seem like it, but that will help us get you home. You just have to give us some time to go through the right channels. Have Lazarus take you to meet our director. He needs to be in the loop about all this."

- HB

What the fuck happened? I was about to turn Manning's face into jell-o and, next thing I know, I'm sprawled out on my bed. I'm still feeling a little woozy, but more pissed than anything. As soon as things stabilize, I'm on my feet.

I don't bother with the door 'cause I know it's locked. Instead, I start hammering on the nearest wall. There's no way I'm going to play 'nice demon' and stay happily locked in my room twiddling my thumbs until someone tells me my sentence is over. They should know by now that this place can't hold me.

I'm busy making the wall into pebbles when I hit something more solid. There's nothing solid in these walls… at least nothing more solid enough to stop me, it's just concrete and rebar. I chip the loose concrete away until I get a better view. There's a sheet of steel in the wall! I slam my stone hand into it, but I barely make a dent. That shit's got to be a foot thick if I can't do anything to it.

Crap.

It can't be in every wall, can it? I start ripping into them, looking for a weak point, a seam, anything! I hit steel a foot into every spot I try, getting more pissed every time I hear the metallic twang of my fist hitting metal.

I WON'T be kept prisoner here!

I scream and start throwing anything that isn't bolted down, venting on whatever's within reach. I'm making a goddamn mess, but I really don't give a shit. It takes me a long time to wear through my rage. When I finally do, I drop onto the edge of my bed. It's about the only inanimate object that survived my fit.

How the hell am I going to get outta' here now? I could just ambush Henderson when he brings me food, but, knowing Manning, they'll probably just install a slot on my door so they can push meals at me safely. That dirty son of a bitch… It's not even about pummeling him anymore; I've moved way beyond wanting to beat his face in. Now I'm just going to kill him. Slowly.

One of my Calicos slips out from beneath the bed and rubs on my leg. I can't tell which one until she turns her face to me. It's Jenny, I recognize her by the spot over her eye. She's a pretty bold little cat, so it doesn't surprise me that she's the first one to come out of hiding. I pick her up by the middle and rub my head against hers. She starts purring instantly.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to scare everybody." I mutter to her. She gives me a small meow and works her way up onto my shoulder. I don't know why I'm apologizing, they always forgive me regardless. "Alright guys, it's safe… I'm done."

My ears perk at the sound of the lock on my door disengaging. The clock says that its two hours early for any kind of food, so there's got to be something else going on. I look up as Liz comes in. I'm glad it's her and not somebody else, but, if it had been anybody else, I wouldn't have thought twice about jumping them so I could get out. The door shuts immediately behind her.

Liz's eyes go wide as she examines my handiwork, "What happened to your room, Red?"

I can't stop my sarcasm, even knowing she'll get mad at me for it, "I redecorated. Like it?"

I guess I really did quite a number on it. Two of my TVs are broken, my favorite chair is upside down and it looks like one of the arms is busted, the door to by bathroom is hanging at a funny angle, and not to mention the concrete dust that's settled on everything. It only took me a few minutes to turn this place into a sty.

I know exactly what John's reaction would be if he saw this mess; he'd have his arms crossed over his chest with that disapproving frown he gets. He'd undoubtedly be tapping his foot while he looked everything over…

I push the thought out of my head before I get too worked up again. I'll have to clean before he comes back. Might as well be optimistic about it, even if I don't know where he is, or how he is, or if he needs me… Fuck and I can't even get out of my goddamn room!

I blink and look up when Liz puts her hand on my face. When did she lean in so close? She's got a sad expression. I don't think I've ever seen her look so sad. I mean, she got depressed a lot when she was still trying to figure out her power (knowing what she'd done to people when she lost control bothered her a lot), but this is a different kind of sad.

"What's up, Sparky?" is all I can think to say.

She drops her hand, "You really love him, don't you Red?"

Crap… what's with the touchy-feely stuff? Do we really need to go over this?

I open my mouth, intending to say something smart-ass or snarky, but nothing'll come to me. I finally settle on, "Yeah, why?" I sort of snap the answer, but she doesn't get mad at me for it. I wouldn't have gotten away with that on a normal day.

"I don't think I've ever seen you trash your room over anything," she says quietly. "Where are all the cats?"

"Hiding," I grumble.

Liz leans down to peer under the bed. I suspect about 3 dozen eyes are staring right back out at her. She sighs and straightens up, "That they are."

It's weird, but I almost feel like I need to explain myself to her, explain why I would throw a tantrum. I usually like to keep people guessing, but Liz is still looking around like she's expecting something. "There's metal in my walls," I say like it'll make my behavior make sense.

"I see that. Manning must have had it installed while we were in Venice." Liz sits down on the bed next to me and we don't say anything else about it. There's a pretty good pause before Liz tentatively brings something up, "Red, I don't want you overreacting, so just listen to me before you do anything, okay?"

My heart drops somewhere into my lower intestines. She wouldn't start a sentence like that unless she's got bad news. Hell, I don't know if I can handle any more bad news, I've got nothing left to break. I nod.

She takes a breath and I steel myself for the worst, "Abe figured out where John is."

I surge to my feet, "Let's go! Why are you still sitting there, let's go now!" That's not bad news, that's great! We can go bust 'Scout out of wherever Manning's got him stashed and be back home in no time. If Liz helps me get out the door then I'll do the rest.

I'm strapping on my gun when Liz grabs my arm, "I told you not to overreact."

"I'm not overreacting."

She grabs my chin and forces me to look at her, "John's in England, Red. How do you expect to get there? What are you going to do, swim? I hate to remind you, but you don't swim well."

I glare at her, "We'll catch a plane."

"I'm sure they won't glance twice at you riding coach," she says, tossing up her arms in exasperation. She's getting frustrated with me.

"Maybe not in coach, but I plan on riding first class." I check my ammo and slam the Samaritan closed.

Liz starts pacing. Her skin's glowing a little, like just before she busts into flame, but she's got it under control, "Damn it, Red, do you really think you're going to just walk out of here? Manning had you tranqued like a wild animal, what makes you think that he won't do it again the minute you get out?"

I hold up my gun, mustering an evil grin, "I could just shoot first."

She turns a skeptical look at me, "You've never killed a human in your life, and I doubt you're going to start now. You're the good guy, remember?" Liz sort of waves her hand through the air like she's dismissing the idea, but it brings my attention to the brace she's got on her arm.

I grab her so she'll stop pacing and I can see it properly. I'm about to ask her what happened when it comes to me, I did throw her kind of far… She glances down at her arm and shrugs lightly, "It's okay HB. It's just a hairline fracture. They said it would heal up in a month or so."

Hell, now I feel bad.

I flop back down on my bed and cats fly out from beneath it when it dips under my weight. I start fiddling with my gun so I don't have to meet her eyes. She might've gotten killed if I hadn't moved her out of the way, and I know she wouldn't have left on her own accord, so I did what I had to, but… I didn't want to hurt her.

Liz puts her hands on my shoulders and lightly kisses the top of my head, "I know you didn't mean to. Sometimes you just don't think about how strong you are." She kneels so she can see my face, "Just let Abe and me handle this, okay? I promise we won't leave you in the dark, but you getting in trouble all the time isn't going to make things any easier."

I may not want to sit around my room twiddling my thumbs, but it looks like that's going to be the only option.

This sucks.

I nod at Liz, since she seems to be waiting for an answer, and she gets up to go. "I know it's hard, but just be good for a little while, okay?" she says at the door. I grumble in response, getting an eye roll from her.

- John

I'm standing in front of a train station with no money, no ID, and no passport. Not to mention that it's a train station and they don't exactly have tracks to America. God, what am I doing?

Last night, I had a horrendous nightmare (when I actually got to sleep) and I changed. I guess it was like sleepwalking, but as a wolf. I didn't really realize what was going on until Rex attacked me; I must have been too close to Eon's room. We fought for what seemed like forever, him tearing the hell out of me and me taking out all of my frustration on his tuff hide. I'm glad I heal quickly, or I would've been in bad shape.

After all of it, we became pretty good friends. I think I'm the only one, besides Eon, that he doesn't growl at anymore. Nothing like a good fight to bring creatures together… But I have no idea where that came from! Was I on the hunt? If Rex hadn't of been there, would I have hurt someone?

I find myself getting pissed off at small things, things that shouldn't bother me, and I'm starting to feel like I'm going insane. It's almost like I'm losing myself in my wolf's rage.

Lazarus and I met with the Society's head of staff, but it was a lot of the same stuff I heard from Dr. Andrews: the transfer will take time. He was just as appalled as Andrews that Manning would trade me out without my consent, but it doesn't seem to be getting me out the door any faster. I think that's why I'm standing here, trying to figure out how to get out of England like a fugitive.

I'll be honest, I found the train station after I got lost looking for the airport. I was kind of hoping that there might be a train that could take me there. But then I'm back to the issue that I have no wallet and my passport is in America with the rest of my stuff. I should have brought it with me. Hindsight is 20/20.

I wander over to a bench by the vending machines and fall onto it. My stomach growls. Even the thought of hermetically sealed, preservative-ridden snack food sounds good, but I'm going to blame that on the vending machine. I usually prefer something corn syrup free.

I guess I did miss lunch while I was wandering England aimlessly. My stomach complains again, twisting up on itself like I hadn't eaten in days. This must be what HB feels like all the time. It seems like I can never get him enough food… Damn it, why did I have to start thinking about him again? I'm so homesick that I think a real illness would be less painful.

I drop my head back against the wall with a groan, shutting my eyes against the unfamiliar landscape. I hear someone approaching, but I completely ignore his presence until I catch a whiff of him. It's Lazarus. I barely open one eye as he leans on the wall next to me.

"You know, Eon's really upset that you were going to leave without saying goodbye."

His words stir up my guilt easily. It wouldn't take much for me to make this place my home, and these people my family, but the BPRD already has my heart. Even with as many problems as we have at the bureau, I really can't see myself anywhere else.

"It's not like I'm actually going anywhere," I sigh.

Lazarus sits on the bench beside me, resting his elbows on his knees. He's quiet for awhile as he stares out at the busy street the station faces. "Is there a phone number you can use to get in contact with your bureau?" he finally asks, turning to look at me. "Maybe if you talk to your mate, you'll feel better."

It's a good idea, in theory, but the phone system in the bureau is almost entirely closed circuit. The phones can only receive calls from the phone in Manning's office in Washington, and other phones within the bureau itself. Most of the agents don't carry cell phones around with them; they either leave them in their lockers or at home.

It comes to me in a flash, "Ellis!"

"Huh?"

"Ellis, he gave me his number when we were in Venice so I could get a hold of him if I needed something. He carries that PDA everywhere!" I exclaim, searching my pockets for the card he gave me. I find it in the inside pocket of HB's jacket.

Lazarus holds out his cell phone before I can even ask if he has one. I give him a grateful smile and punch in Ellis's number.

About the third ring, I realize that I'm pacing anxiously. I stop when he finally answers.

"This is Ellis," his voice is thin and slightly distorted, probably due to the distance between the phones. I may not have known him too long, but it's damn good to hear him.

"Ellis, its John."

There's a little crow of happy laughter and he hollers, "It's SO good to talk to you! The bureau's been going nuts without you. Everybody's grumpy, mostly Hellboy, but nothing's been going well. As soon as Red found out you'd been transferred, he was out of here. We caught up to him almost twenty miles outside of Jersey! What made you leave?"

I'm surprised at his boisterousness. Ellis always seems like a pretty laid-back guy. "It wasn't exactly my choice. You were the one who took me to the airport. I wasn't faking when I said I didn't know what was going on."

There's a pause on his end. "John, that kind of transfer breaks policy. Whether you're a human or something else, you're still a member of the bureau. He can't do that without your consent."

"Yeah, well. Manning's got a pretty strong view about freaks and their rights: he thinks we don't have any." I can tell Lazarus is paying attention when he makes a face at my statement.

"Hey, you want to talk to HB? He's been a wreck since he found out you won't be coming back; he's pissed off at everybody. Henderson won't even deal with him anymore, he's my job now."

"I definitely want to talk to him." I don't mention that it was the reason I was calling him. I'm sure Ellis figures, but I don't want to tread on his feelings.

"Okay. Hang on; I'm going to sneak you in on his meal tray."

I briefly wonder when things got so bad that we need to hide the fact that we're having a phone conversation. There's a ridiculous amount of rustling and then it's quiet. I can hear the soft squeak of the food cart's wheels. I've been meaning to give those a shot of WD-40, but I still haven't gotten around to it. It's somebody else's job now.

There's no mistaking the loud metallic clang of HB's door opening, then I hear Ellis's faint voice, "Brought your snack Red."

"I'm not hungry." Just hearing HB sends soothing waves over my body. I feel less tense, less stressed and sick. Then the nostalgia hits me. Just hearing him isn't enough. I want to see him and touch him and be held by him. It almost hurts more than it helps.

Ellis comes back with, "I really think you should try the nachos."

"Those aren't nachos, they're just chips. Where the hell is the cheese?"

I snicker. Red's more finicky than any child. His food has to be just perfect or he won't eat it. Nachos have to be slathered in cheese, then with refried beans, and then have a thick layer of jalapeños; otherwise they don't meet his standards. But, he's also not following Ellis's clue.

"Maybe you should try talking to the nachos." I know HB won't buy that. He'll think Ellis is nuts.

There's an expanded silence and Red finally says, "What are you on?"

I can't stop my laugh, "HB, pick up the phone!"

There's a lot of static, probably from one of them moving the chips around to find the PDA and then Ellis repeats, "Maybe you should TALK to the nachos!"

"Oh!" HB's voice gets louder, "Boyscout?"

"Yeah Red, it's me." I take it back, hearing his voice is so worth the homesickness it brings with it. "God I miss you," I whimper.

"Me too, kid."

Ellis's thin voice comes out of the background, "I don't want to put a damper on this, but please, PLEASE don't stay on too long. That's super long distance and I don't want my phone bill to be higher than my salary for the month."

HB pauses (he's got to be glaring at him) then suggests, "Tell the bureau to pay for it."

"Um, a good plan, but I don't think they'll consider random calls to Europe work related."

Red snorts, "Send the bill to Manning. It's his fault anyway."

Ellis makes a few more weak complaints before I hear the door to HB's room close. "We're alone now," I can almost see his suggestive brow wiggle and I know exactly what he's thinking. His tail's probably twisting mischievously at the thought.

"As tempting as it is, I will not have phone sex with you."

"Aw, why not?"

I glance over at Lazarus, who's trying so hard not to look like he's listening, and lower my voice. "Because I am in a public place and that is entirely lewd behavior anyway!"

"What's lewd mean?"

I sigh, rolling my eyes skyward, "Vulgar, bawdy, rude, coarse. Take your pick."

"So what's lewd mean?"

"HB!"

He laughs heartily and I can't help but smile. As crude as he is, he's still mine.

We talk for almost an hour, catching each other up on everything. After finding out what Manning did (instead of just theorizing about it) I'm tempted to rip his throat out myself. I fill Hellboy in on the Society and their team members, but, mostly, we just talk.

Lazarus gets bored after a long while and leads me back to the van. He lets me chatter until we get back to the bakery. Finally, when the van is parked and the engine is dead, Lazarus looks over at me with raised eyebrows. I take it as I sign that I need to be done. Ellis was right; this call must be costing both ends a fortune. Unfortunately, I know it's not something the Society can afford.

I hang up regretfully, only after plenty of 'goodbye's and 'I'll talk to you soon's, missing Red as soon as the connection is terminated. I turn the phone over in my hands for a minute, before handing it back.

Lazarus pockets the phone and clears his throat, "I got an idea while you were talking. I don't know whether or not your bureau will play along, but it's worth a try. Maybe we can get you home a little sooner than a legitimate transfer."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

TBC…

So, this jumps back and forth between the two of them a little more than it usually does, but it seemed necessary. I'm thinking most everything will get wrapped up in the next chapter, assuming it doesn't turn out too long and needs to be cut.
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Somewhere Between