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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
- 2
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- HB

Boyscout's never acted like that before. Sure, he's had a variety of reactions as he learned exactly what's involved in paranormal investigation, but I don't think I've seen him so pale before.

"Alright, what is it Abe?" I ask sharply, more so than I'd intended, but I want to catch up with Boyscout ASAP. He doesn't seem very stable.

"John is a commitment now, Red."

I give him a long look while I try and figure out what the hell he means. I settle on, "Huh?"

"You seem to have taken an interest in John recently, and I think you need to understand that he can't just be a fling. If you commence in any sexual activities with Agent Myers, he will become a commitment."

Okay, he's got my attention now, "Yeah, and?"

Abe flips through one of the books he's got spread out on Dad's desk, "A werewolf, like a natural wolf, only takes one mate in a lifetime. So, if you decide you aren't interested in John anymore, he would either be celibate for the remainder of his life, or die."

"Whoa. Both of those are a bit extreme, aren't they?"

"Not for a wolf, Red. He would never have a desire for anyone else if he was with you. And," He pauses, turning to a different section in the book, "you should also know that he may live as long as you. A werewolf has an expanded lifespan, but it has yet to documented exactly how long."

A lifetime commitment to Boyscout. It's a little hard to fathom. I don't think I've ever imagined anybody sticking around longer than a year or two, let alone a lifetime

"What if he gets sick of me?"

"He won't."

"That seems unlikely," I grumble. Even Liz got sick of me, and that didn't take very long. What's the likelihood that Squirt wouldn't do the exact same thing?

"Because he would be bound to you," Abe supplies.

I glare at him. He needs to stay out of my head.

"It doesn't take a mind reader."

He does that way too often for me to get ticked. "Are we done?"

"We're done."

I head for the door. One more thing pops into my mind, something Abe might have an answer to. "Hey, why do you think I like Myers? I mean, I've never liked a guy before, so why him?"

Abe is quiet for a long moment. I guess he doesn't have an answer either, but he surprises me when he comes up with a theory, "Perhaps you haven't noticed a desire for men because you haven't been around someone who's piqued your interest. Most men we encounter at the Bureau are either married, older, or both. It's not uncommon for a demon to be interested in both sexes."

"You'd think I would've noticed by now."

Abe smiles slightly, "You were a bit preoccupied."

"With what?"

"Liz."

When I can't think up a smart-ass response, I walk out the door. I hear Abe's laughter behind me. Sometimes, I hate his higher brain functions.

My next stop is the kitchen and I can smell the frying bacon long before I reach it. At this point, I could eat half a cow… No, make that a whole cow. Mmmm… beef. Maybe I should put in a request for steak and eggs while I'm here.

I sidestep my food cart, which is sadly empty, but I don't see Myers anywhere in the kitchen. The chef's at the stove and Agent Donegal is cutting up an apple. They're talking about Donegal's kids when I come in.

"Where's Myers?" I ask. I may as well have jumped in and roared at them for the reaction I get. Donegal yells and tosses the remainder of his apple into the air. "Red! What are you doing here?" He checks his watch, "Breakfast is at ten, right?" Donegal usually only works when Myers is taking a vacation day, but he knows my schedule pretty well. He's been around since Clay started work with the Bureau.

As long as he's been here, I still think he's afraid of me. The look he's wearing right now says he'd piss himself if I made any sudden movements. Funny that our cook, who I've only met a handful of times gives me a friendly wave and keeps flipping pancakes. My appearance bothers some more than others.

"You seen Myers?"

Agent Donegal shifts from fear to confusion, but still looks about ready to jump out of his skin, "No sir, he's got the day off."

So, if Myers didn't make it down to the kitchen, where the hell did he end up? I grab a handful of cooked bacon and start my hunt, yelling as I head out, "I still want that in my room at ten!"

The next logical place to find Boyscout would be his office, but I turn up empty there. He's not going to be happy when he sees how much paperwork he has piled up.

If this were a normal day, I would try the gym next, but I doubt he's in the mood to work out. The only other place I can think of is his room. Myers doesn't usually spend that much time there, except when something's happened. If 'Scout's pissed or upset, I find he retreats to his room.

The door's firmly shut when I walk up, but it's always like that. I'm beginning to wonder if he's hiding something in there. When I knock, I don't get an answer.

"Scout, you in there kid?"

I knock again, but louder. A muffled, 'yeah', finally comes through. Myers doesn't give me anything else.

"Hey, what are you doing in there?"

I try the door, but it's locked.

"Nothing," he sounds depressed. Crap. He definitely didn't take the news well. I mean, I knew he didn't by the way he reacted in the library, but I guess I was hoping that he'd bounce back.

"Open the door Boyscout."

"No."

What? If he thinks I'm going to let him mope in there, he's insane. "What do you mean 'no'? Open the door!"

"No."

This is starting to piss me off.

"You either open the door, or I come in anyway!" That threat makes me sound like his Dad… ugh.

I consider doing a countdown before I break in, but I don't get a chance to start before 'Scout slips out and closes the door behind him.

"What?" he asks, a little out of breath. He's still kind of pale.

Wait… what doesn't he want me to see in his room? That's the second time he's freaked out at the thought of me seeing inside.

I don't bother asking, he'll just make up some thin excuse. Instead, I wrap my hands around his waist and move him to the other side of me. He squirms and blushes, complaining loudly, "What the hell are you doing, Red?"

John tries to stop me, but he's really easy to hold back with one hand, "Why haven't you ever invited me over to your place? It hurts my feelings that I'm always the one doing the entertaining."

He looks about ready to faint when I push open the door. At first, I don't notice anything weird; bed's made, floor's spotless, and there's nothing incriminating lying around. Then, I notice what's on the walls. 'Scout's got framed posters of about every superhero ever conceived. I turn to look around the room, listing the characters off in my head: Wolverine, Superman, Batman, The Hulk, me… It's a drawing from one of those comic books in which I'm posing half-naked.

I'm noticing a trend, that they're all muscle-bound men with torn costumes or bare chests. Interesting. "You're a closet nerd 'Scout," is all I can think to say.

John comes around and shoves on my chest with a little more force than I expect from Boyscout, but I don't budge. He pushes with his hands, then his shoulder, trying to force me out. When he can't get me to move, he whines, "HB! Get out!"

"Damage done kid. I know your secret now… Are these what was in those boxes you got a while ago?"

He sighs and slumps against me, red still tinting his face, "Yeah. I didn't have enough space to bring them when I moved, so I had them sent later."

"Did you do the same for your comic books?"

"Yeah, but…" he glances around, probably to see if he left anything out, "How did you know about them?"

I grin at his gullibility, "I didn't, but now I do."

He sighs again, following it up with a groan, "Fine, I'm a closet nerd. Happy now?"

"Thrilled," I say.

I'm tempted to ask him how many of my comic books he has, but he's gotten real quiet. He's still leaning on me, which is kind of nice. I look down at the top of his head, not sure what to do. I'm really bad at this 'touch-feely' fix John's emotions thing. Abe would be a lot better for this, but I'm the one who's here and I'm doubtful that Myers would lean on Abe the same way. Though, a few minutes ago, I wouldn't have said he'd lean on me either

"You ok, 'Scout?"

"How can I be one of those things?" he whispers against me. His words are muffled by my shirt, but I get the gist of it.

"It's a virus. There's not much you can do about it."

"I'm a monster, HB."

Yeah, he took the news badly. He pushes off of me and starts pacing. It's not a good sign. "You're not a monster Boyscout; you're just part of the freak show now. If our numbers keep going up, we should consider taking this show on the road."

The joke slides right past him.

"It's not the same with you and Abe! You're not going to lose control and tear somebody's throat out!" He stops and looks at me, adding, "Well, Abe won't anyway."

"Hey!" Yeah, so I snap sometimes, but I've never killed anybody when I'm pissed off. Wounds are a whole different story.

He keeps going, "I'm dangerous HB! I would never forgive myself if I hurt somebody."

"You aren't dangerous."

"I want you to do me a favor."

I cross my arms over my chest, "I'm not agreeing to anything unless you tell me what it is."

Myers collapses on the edge of his bed, dropping his head in his hands. He sounds terrified when he speaks, "I want you to end this before I can do somebody permanent harm."

I really don't like the sound of that. I hope he's not asking what I think he is, "And what's that supposed to mean?"

When he looks up at me, his expression is just as mortified as his voice, "Do I have to be that blunt?"

That's exactly what he's asking. I'm not sure why, but it makes me angry. I raise my voice at him, "Damn it Myers! You aren't dangerous! You just need to get used to the fact that you're one of us now! The idea may not be attractive to you, but you don't have a lot of choice. I'm not giving you the easy way out."

His expression crumbles when I yell at him and I cuss under my breath. I wasn't lying when I said I sucked at this 'touchy-feely' shit. Now he looks like he's ready to cry. I don't know what the hell I'd do if Myers broke down like that.

"Fuck Myers, I don't know what to tell you, but I was with you a long time yesterday and you weren't vicious," I say more quietly, sitting on the bed beside him. He sniffles a little, and I brace myself for full force waterworks that never come.

"I've just never imagined that this is the kind of turn my life would take."

"That makes sense. I mean, I doubt there are too many people sitting around thinking that they'll be infected with Lycanthropy before they reach 25."

"I'm 27."

"Whatever, close enough." I finally manage to drag a smile out of him. Good… he was starting to make me nervous.

A loud growl cuts through our conversation, but it isn't my stomach. 'Scout gives me a sheepish look, "I guess I'm hungry."

"Geez Myers, that was you? Sounds like you're as starved as I am," and judging by the way he ate last night, I bet he can put down just as much as me now. "Come on, let's go get some grub."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Two full carts of food later, Myers is sprawled out on my bed and I'm trying real hard not to focus on that fact. I keep running what Abe said through my mind: Boyscout is a lifetime commitment.

I grab a cigar out of my stash, lighting a wooden match with my thumb. I haven't used a lighter on one since Manning showed me the difference it makes. The first hit of smoke is like heaven. Thinking about it, this looks pretty bad. Myers isn't as perfectly preened as he usually is and I'm smoking like a cliché 50's actor. It would be really funny if somebody- wait; do I hear someone coming down the hall? Whatever, it's not like we did anything.

Of all people to come through the door, of all the possibilities, it's Liz who pokes her head around the corner. I probably wouldn't have been more surprised if the president came in to thank me for saving the world again, but I haven't met a president since Gerald Ford.

"Liz!"

"You two look like you're getting cozy," she comments.

Boyscout bolts out of my bed like somebody set fire to it, his food induced lethargy disappearing, "Liz! What are you doing back?"

"I heard what happened."

Myers runs his fingers through his hair and tries to smooth his clothes. I'm not sure whether it's for appearances or if he's trying not to look like he was in my bed for the wrong reasons. "Already?" he stammers. "News travels fast."

Liz turns to glare at me. What hell did I do? She plants her hands on her hips and talks down at me as if she was scolding a kid, "Why weren't you looking after him?"

"If he'd stayed put like I told him to, none of this would have happened." In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have thrown that accusation while John was in the room.

He gets defensive immediately, "Me? Have I ever listened when you said 'stay here'? I'm not in the Bureau so I can sit on the sidelines!"

Liz jumps back into the argument, "HB, you're supposed to be the one taking care of your team when you're on an assignment. If John wants to do his job and come along, you should have been watching his back."

Two minutes at the Bureau and she's already on my case. Can't a guy get a break? "No, I was supposed to be killing the man-eating werewolves, not guarding Boyscout's ass! If he can't pull his own weight, he needs to stay out of the fight!"

Shit… did that just come out of my mouth? When I sneak a look at 'Scout's face, I realize that it's going to take days to make up for that comment. John storms out the door and Liz pins me with that 'I'm so disappointed' expression. I hate that look.

"HB," she sighs.

"What?" I snap.

Liz doesn't say anything else. She picks up the bag at her feet (Bag? Is she coming back to stay? Doesn't matter, it won't last long) and walks out after Myers. Why do I get the feeling that I'm getting ganged up on?

- John

I can't believe he would say something like that! Damn it! I may not be a 400 pound, walking muscle mass that can punch through walls, but I was chosen for this job for a reason, wasn't I? If I can't fight with them, what the hell is the point in me being here? Right now, my job title may as well be glorified babysitter!

I pass a few people in the halls, but it takes me a while to realize that everyone is giving me a wide berth as I go by. If Liz already knows what happened, I'm sure everyone of the Bureau does. I don't blame them for not wanting to come near me.

Where am I going?

Stalking around the halls aimlessly probably isn't the best idea. I slow down enough to think up a decent destination. The gym would be a good place to blow off some steam; I could really use a workout session. If I wear myself out, maybe Red's brashness won't bother me so much.

I alter my course a little and go to the locker rooms. The place is deserted when I get there. Even if there was somebody getting ready, I'm sure they'd take off as soon as I arrived. I'll just stay away from the weights until I can find someone who's not afraid to spot me. I toss on my gear, cursing HB, werewolves, and my cowardly teammates. This day could turn for the better, and now would be a good time.

The workout facilities are just as deserted as the locker room. I start my usual regiment on the treadmill, but it's really just giving me more time to think. I want to do something a bit more strenuous. I've gone about half a mile before something catches my attention: the punching bag. If that's not a stress reliever, nothing is. I abandon the treadmill in favor of some hand wraps.

I don't normally use the bag to workout, so I'm not really sure the best way to go about this. I've used one in a regimented training session in hand-to-hand combat, but we graduated to live combat practice pretty quickly. A bag isn't much good for proper training because it doesn't fight back.

The first few hits I dish out are kind of weak, but I've found a rhythm soon enough. This IS good for stress. Dumb though it seems at first, I start putting faces on the bag. Frustration pours out in a series of hard punches, followed up with a roundhouse kick to the middle. The bag must be light, because it swings wide from the hit.

I dodge around it and keep going. This is a lot easier than it used to be. I mean, I know it's not fighting back, but my attacks seem more fluid than they normally are. Energy is coming from a deep source I never knew I had. Maybe it's the lycanthropy, but I don't want to think about it.

I'm not sure how, but even over the sound of my attack on the bag, my breathing, and the absurdly loud air-conditioner, I hear somebody's footsteps. I brace the punching bag to still it and lean around to see who came in.

Liz gives me a small, but genuine smile. I'm not sure whether I'm happy to see her, or pissed that she's here. Now that she's back again, Hellboy will forget I exist. Then again, maybe that wouldn't be so bad with the way he acts sometimes.

"He doesn't mean it."

I make a conscious decision to be civilized. Liz may be a little wishy-washy, but it's not her fault that HB's that and a jerk. "Mean what?"

Liz rubs her wrist. It brings my attention to the fact that she's not wearing her rubber bands. I guess she decided that she doesn't need them. "What he said. Sometimes, HB can say things that he doesn't mean… it's usually because he's worried."

I can feel the frustration coming back. I give the bag another brutal punch, admitting, "Yeah, well. It always hurts worse when what he says is true."

Liz laughs a little, "But at least it's not like Abe's brutal honesty. HB usually remembers to cut you some slack when you're having a tough time."

I feel a smile creeping onto my face, "I guess it's always worse when Abe chooses not to say anything."

"If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. It's always kind of been Abe's philosophy," she adds.

Alright, I'm happy to see her. We usually get along pretty well and I didn't really realize how much I missed her. I can't be angry with her because she has something I'm jealous of.

"I probably reek. Let me get a shower and we can go catch up over some coffee."

Her smile get's a touch bigger, "Ok."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

We settle in at the Bureau's tiny cafeteria, a fresh pot of coffee on the table between us. I start up the conversation, "So, how have things been on the outside?"

Liz adverts her gaze and busies herself pouring each of us a cup of Joe. I try not to stare too obtrusively while I'm waiting for her answer. Something happened, but it hasn't made it to the news, so I'm sure it didn't involve catching a building on fire.

"Not so great, I take it," I say when she doesn't answer.

Liz shakes her head. She takes a sip of coffee and spins the mug between her palms, "It was great, at first. I was dating this guy, Brady, and the Bureau was funding my apartment. A couple days ago, I found out he was cheating on me."

"So," I press, "what happened?" I'm really hoping she just dumped him and is coming here for a vacation, but Liz has a bit of an unconscious temper. He may have lived, assuming he didn't do something stupid, like hit her.

She looks up from her coffee and I know the news isn't good, "I kind of… toasted him."

"Did you lose control?"

Liz pauses, "No."

She's been doing extremely well with her power, not a single incident since Russia. On missions, she's been able to, for the most part, burn things on cue. It would have surprised me if she lost control over a bum boyfriend. I guess that means it was intentional.

"If you didn't lose control, then…" I trail off, not wanting to make the accusation.

"I could feel it slipping out of my command, so I directed it on something instead of letting it consume everything. It was really easy to reel back in afterwards."

"Something… you mean your boyfriend?"

She winces slightly, "Yeah, but don't tell HB… or Manning. Please?"

"Alright," I agree. It comes out a little easier than it should have, considering it's kind of a big secret to hide. Then again, it's not like it wasn't the first time her powers have killed someone. I know I have to check loose ends if we're going to keep this quiet, "Where there any remains?" I lean in close and lower my voice, even though there's nobody else in the cafeteria.

"No, just ash… I vacuumed him up."

There's something morbidly amusing about that idea. "Did it leave any scorch marks where he was standing, or on the walls nearby?"

Liz takes another sip of coffee, thinking about that for a moment, "No. He was standing in the middle of the kitchen. It didn't mark-up the tile and he wasn't close enough to a wall. The ceiling looks a little dark though."

That's not so bad. A scorched ceiling in a kitchen could have any number of sources. "You did empty the vacuum, didn't you?"

"Yes," she says, a little exasperated.

Then there shouldn't be any solid evidence of his death. Ash isn't any good for DNA, so they won't find any connection between burned residue and Brady. He'll just pass into memory as a missing person.

I nod, drain my cup and get a refill, "Are you…" I have to clear my throat before I can get the sentence out, "Are you going to get back with HB?"

She almost laughs at the idea, "No. I grew up with Red; I just didn't realize how much I view him as a brother until I tried to date him. It was just…"

"Awkward," I supply.

"Yeah, awkward… but what's with you two? You seem to be getting awfully close."

I feel the blush creep across my face. "We've just been…" my brain fails to supply anything after that. I'm not sure whether it's my lack of words or profuse blushing that makes her mouth drop open.

"You like him!" she exclaims.

I shush her, "I don't need the entire Bureau to be privy to that information."

She leans in and drops her voice to just above a whisper, "You do, don't you? I didn't know you swung that way. I thought you were making moves on me the first day we met."

"I was trying to be friendly," I mumble.

I really, REALLY hope this doesn't get around the Bureau. I highly doubt that Liz would spread it, but I don't want things to become like they were in Quantico. Its bad enough they all know that I'm a werewolf, but gay would be a terrible addition to that. No one would ever speak to me again… Actually, I don't see Abe having trouble with any of it and I'm pretty sure HB already knows both of those facts, even if I haven't outwardly confessed to him. So, I guess I would just be one of the freaks after all.

"How long?" she asks.

"What?"

"How long have you liked him?"

"Since I was about nine…"

Liz stares at me, "How long?"

"Since I read the first comic book featuring him."

She makes an over exaggerated 'oh' with her mouth, "So, meeting him was like…"

"The most terrifying and exciting moment of my life, but don't tell him that. I think his ego is big enough as is."

We both get a good laugh out of that. Her smile fades slowly and she continues to spin her coffee mug between her hands. I can tell she wants to say something. She hesitates a moment longer before she looks up at me, "I don't know if he'll be…" Liz presses her lips together, "I hate to say it, but… interested."

"If I'm not mistaken, he is," I comment calmly, and probably a bit smugly.

Liz raises her eyebrow, the other joins in the race for her hairline, "Are you going to elaborate on that?"

A smile curls the edge of my lip and I let her wonder for a second. She leans over her coffee, waiting impatiently. I keep her on edge for a few moments longer, doing nothing but smile, I'm hoping cryptically.

"What happened?"

"He kissed me." Suddenly, this feels like middle school, kids clustered together over Mom-made meals, whispering about everyone's dating situation, even though they're not old enough to understand what it really means.

"HB kissed you?" I could probably count on one hand how many times I've seen a look of such pure disbelief. "As in a non-accidental, not HB-foolishness kind of kiss?"

"I really wasn't sure what it was at the time, but I'm starting to think that he's actually interested," I say into my mug. I'm a little embarrassed talking about all this. I never really had anyone to confide in before and I'm not used to spilling dark secrets without threat of pain or torture. I guess this would be what it's like to have a real friend.

"He really did then," Liz flops back in her chair, "HB doesn't have any problem going after what he wants, but sometimes it takes him a while to realize that he wants it." She's quiet after that, studying me.

I finish off the last of my coffee. I'm still worried. Even though Liz says she's not after HB, it doesn't mean he won't be after her. I can foresee him following her around endlessly, trying to win her back while I just disappear into the woodwork. I can't compete with Liz, even if she's not in the race. HB's heart will always belong to her first and foremost… after all, I'm just the replacement.

"John?"

I look up from my brooding.

"Do you want to get out of here for a couple hours? You look like you could use it," Liz suggests.

That idea sounds excellent. It would be nice to pretend like I have a normal life for a little while. "Yeah, maybe we can catch a movie or something."

Liz puts her hand on her chest with a look of mock surprise, "Are you asking me on a date, Agent Myers?"

I can't help but laugh. Liz hasn't been in a mood good enough to joke in a long time. I'm glad she's starting to get her head on straight. She's been through a lot.

"If that's what you want to call it, then I'll even buy the popcorn," I toss back.

She smiles, "Deal, but I get the tickets."

We abandon our coffee and make our way out of the Bureau, talking and joking, but our trip gets halted abruptly at the security door to the elevator. I scan my card and type in the code, but the door doesn't budge. "That's weird," I mutter. I rescan and get the same result.

"Is there something wrong with it?" Liz asks from behind me.

"I don't know," I answer as I try it one more time.

One of our security officers comes around the corner at a brisk walk. He must be here to fix it. This door is the only route to the outside; they need to replace it if it's malfunctioning. The Bureau can't afford the risk of us not being able to get out.

"Your security clearance has been revoked, Agent Myers."

"What?" Why would my clearance be revoked? I work here, it's not like I can be kept like Abe or HB.

"Due to recent circumstances, Director Manning thinks you should remain at the Bureau until your behavior has been evaluated," he states simply.

"I work here, I'm not a prisoner!" This is a load of bull. There's no way Manning can pull this shit on me. HB can be put in timeout, he still acts like a little kid… plus his adoptive father was head of this department since it was founded, but it's not like I have his behavior.

The security officer laces his hands behind his back and plants himself between me and the door, "Director Manning gave me my orders, and you aren't permitted to leave. I don't have the authority to override his decision; you'll have to take your complaint to him."

Either this guy hasn't worked here very long, or he's just an asshole, "He doesn't have an office here. How am I supposed to complain if I need to leave the building?"

Liz touches my elbow, I guess in an attempt to cool me off. When did my attitude get this bad? I'd say I'm relatively calm person, but everything's been pushing my buttons today.

"I need to go out for more film anyway; do you want me to get something for while I'm out?" Liz offers quietly.

If Manning's home office wasn't hours away in DC, I would ask her to go burn his ass off, but that would be a lot of trouble for her. "No, thanks," I say instead.

She nods and gives my shoulder a departing pat. The officer moves aside for her. I try not to glare at him. "I guess I'll be on my way then. Coworkers are tastier than pedestrians anyway," I toss sarcastically.

Manning's probably right to revoke my privileges; my brain-mouth filter isn't working too well. Before I say something worthy of a solid punch, I stomp back towards the gym.

Right or not, I can still stay angry at him.

TBC…
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Somewhere Between