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Between the Lines: Sequel to Somewhere Between	By : AceMaxwell Category: G through L > Hellboy Views: 6046 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Hellboy or the characters within, and I don't make money off Hellboy or this story.

Chapter List
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They shed innocent blood, the blood of their sons and daughters…~Psalms 106:38
- John
Blood… why do I smell blood? I reach up to rub my face and freeze. There's something caked on my skin. I can't open my eyes. Whatever it is, it's in my eyelashes, gluing my eyelids shut. I rub at them furiously until I can peel them open.
Dear god, I'm covered in it. It's on my hands, on my face. I can taste the copper twang in my mouth. What have I killed?
I roll over and let a swell of nausea overwhelm me. The vomit is full of blood and bits of something, but I don't look close enough to figure out what. At this point, I don't want to know… I can't know what kind of monster I've become.
My mind is blank. I should remember being a wolf, but, as I wrack my memory, all I get is darkness. I've never had moon amnesia before, never. I've read about it in Dr. Andrew's books, but it's something that unstable rogues experience. It's the amnesia that keeps them semi-normal while they're human and it keeps them from thinking about the kill until they desperately need it again.
I'm not like that… I can't be.
A wretched, screaming howl rips from my throat before I can bite it back. It echoes across the pa- I'm outside, in a park. How did I get outside? I was so busy with the possibility that I've killed something that I didn't even notice that I was sitting in a park. I never should've gotten out of the bureau without opposable thumbs, let alone out and across town.
I have to get home.
Putting aside last night's uncertain activities, I roll to my feet and duck behind some thick brush in an attempt to stay out of sight. It's still very early, but that doesn't mean I won't get spotted by a jogger or somebody taking their dog out. I can only hope that someone didn't see me while I was sleeping.
I suppose that if someone had, the police would probably already be here, so maybe I'm in the clear. My stomach twists in and out of intricate loops, making me queasy again. I stop to empty the rest of it, not wanting anything from my atrocious night left in my system.
More blood hits the dirt. An image flashes to mind, the image of a figure clutching at his throat with arterial spray flying from between his fingers… I silently pray that it's my imagination and not a memory.
There's a fence lined with big shrubs along the edge of the park. I head that direction, taking refuge behind the foliage. There's no way I'll make it back to the bureau by ducking from one bush to another. I need to find somewhere I can get cleaned up and grab some clothes so I'm not wandering through New Jersey naked. I pick a yard and hop the fence.
There's someone in the kitchen, so I jump to the next yard. It takes me a few tries before I find an empty house. I peer inside the window, looking for an alarm. There's one on the wall at the end of the entryway, but I can see that it's not armed. An average person wouldn't be able to read the text from this distance, and I'm sure the security company that installed it never thought about a possibility like me.
I break the door's plate glass with my elbow. It hurts like hell, but it'll only take a few minutes to heal. As soon as I've got the lock disengaged, I hear the growling. It's a warning and a pretty deep growl considering that a Welsh corgi comes around the corner. He freezes when he spots me, his threatening stance melting instantly into submission. He knows I'm the bigger predator, even if I have no intention on hurting him.
"I'm sorry, I know it's your house," I mutter at him.
When he rolls over, I give his belly a scratch by way of apology and start my hunt for the bedrooms. A plethora of family pictures seem to glare at me from the wall as I pass by. I can't look at them. I don't want to know whose home I'm invading. There are four of them living here; I know that much from the lingering scents and I don't need faces to go with those scents.
I pass by a room that has the smell of fake strawberries and stickers all over the door. I don't need to look in to know a little girl lives there. Her unique odor wafts out on the air conditioned breeze, greeting me with hints of peanut butter and jelly and grape-flavored bubble gum. The whole room is sticky sweet and not what I'm looking for, I move on.
The next room reeks of old sweat and rotting food. I glance in out of curiosity. The floor is covered in dirty clothes and the walls scream with band posters. Teenager, gotta' be. It actually kind of reminds me of the way HB used to keep his room, before I started staying there. Old food containers peek out from under the papers on the desk, explaining the stomach-turning stench of rot. This kid needs some boundaries.
I find a master bedroom at the end of the hall. Unlike the kid's rooms, it's very clean and smells more like chemicals than people. The double doors on the far end of the room open into a bathroom, so that's where I head.
The first thing I need is a shower, I'll think about getting clothes after that. Their bathroom is all chrome and sterile surfaces. It doesn't even look like someone lives here. Except for a small handful of water stains on the glass shower door, there's not a trace of human beings in this place. One of the parents must be a clean freak.
I used to be that way, but after a few months in HB's room, I forgot all about the need to live in a perfectly clean room. I also learned that it's virtually impossible to keep his space tidy.
I don't know why I'm thinking about cleaning. Maybe it's shock. I'm trying to focus on anything but the glaring sign that I've killed someone. Once I'm in the shower, with the blood streaming down my skin in rivers, my actions come crashing down around me. My chest constricts as possibilities flood my mind. Even though I claw through my memories to find an answer, I can't remember what I've done. It could have been someone out late, a man, a mother, a child…
The idea that it could have been a child gives me a fresh swell of nausea. I dry heave uselessly, since there's nothing left in my stomach to toss. I gag on nothing but air. The nausea slowly passes and I press my forehead against the tile. I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to block out everything, but in the darkness, blood flies and screams echo loudly over the sound of the water.
My eyes snap open and a shiver rips down my body.
I need to go home, for answers, for comfort… Abe might be able to tell me what's going on. From there, we can try to fix it. I've never had a problem like this before, so surely it's a temporary thing. I don't want to imagine what would happen if this becomes permanent.
We might have to take desperate measures if it happens again. I won't be a threat to innocent people.
I grab the soap and scrub my skin until its red and raw, getting rid of every trace of blood. For some reason, Lady Macbeth comes to mind, 'Out, damn'd spot'. The thought makes me laugh hysterically, but it quickly deteriorates into tears. I curl up at the bottom of the shower, my body shaking with sobs that I can't seem to stop.
I don't know what to do. Part of me screams that I'm a threat, a danger to everyone around me, and I shouldn't go home. But another part knows full well that HB will never stop looking for me if I go missing. He wouldn't be able to let me go, even if I told him what was going on. I can't do that to him… and I don't think I could keep myself from going back to him anyway. Hiding from this isn't the answer.
Eventually, I manage to swallow my hysteria and go back to scouring my skin.
I shut the water off and, for a few minutes, I stand in the rapidly cooling air while I get my head on straight. I can't show up to the bureau a neurotic mess. It would alarm HB and alert everyone else to the fact that I'm falling apart. I need to be able to approach this situation rationally. After all, it's just something that needs fixing, not an irreversible crisis… I hope.
I step out of the shower with a plan to watch the news for hints of what I could have done while I was a wolf. I'll just keep praying that I killed someone's dog, or a deer, or anything but a person. With that in mind, I set out to find some clothes.
Rifling through the closet for something to wear proves a little more difficult than I anticipated. The man's side has more business suits than anything and I'm not going to take a several hundred dollar suit. I was hoping more for a pair of sweats or jeans.
I give up on the closet and go to the dresser against the far wall, where I have more luck. I yank on a pair of jeans that are several inches too long and wide for me, following it up with a massive undershirt. To makes things at least a little easier, I regrettably snag a belt as well. I check for logos or brands before I slip it through the belt loops, knowing that a man with suits this nice probably has expensive belts too. I don't do shoes because his shoes are several sizes too big, I'm just fine barefoot, and I think I've stolen enough of his stuff today.
I leave the way I came in, double checking the carpet in my path for traces of blood. Blood stains are something I wouldn't want to come home to, but I don't see any problems. I probably rubbed most of it off while I was walking around in the park.
As I pass the curb, I take a mental note of the address so I can send them some money for the clothes and window. The corgi is watching me leave, his short legs propped up on a sofa so he can see through the front window. I can't quite tell if he's relieved or upset to see me go. I smile slightly and he disappears through the curtain, so I'm thinking he's happy I'm gone.
It takes me almost twenty minutes to get oriented in this quiet town. I'm fairly certain that I didn't get as far as another state, but it's a possibility. A wolf can go hundreds of miles without stopping, though I can't figure out what would drive me out that far. I don't normally have any reason to leave home, let alone leave New Jersey.
I'm starting to consider asking for directions when I finally find a freeway that I recognize. Unless I'm next to New York, which I know I'm not, the only way to go is east. I set out towards home.
On foot (why didn't I take some shoes? I forgot how much glass ends up on the side of a freeway), the long walk is agonizing. I could borrow a phone and call the bureau for a pick up, but I'm not so sure I want to try and explain why I'm out this far. I'd rather sulk home with my tail between my legs, no matter how sore my feet are.
Unfortunately, the walk does give me time to think.
- HB
Boyscout's been missing all fucking day. I've looked in every room of the bureau, checked for his tracker (which was in our room), and even went as far as asking Abe to use his fancy front lobe to find him. Turns out he can't do that…
He did show me 'Scout getting out the door as a wolf. Weird thing was that there was a hole in his reading of the past. Somebody opened the door, but not even Abe can see who. It's all pretty fucking suspicious. I've never run into anybody that could block Abe's ability, so there's got to be more to this story than 'Scout escaping.
Somebody's pulling strings here and I'm going to find out who.
I grab my gear after Abe's mental show, intent on hunting 'Scout down. Problem is, I should've started looking for him hours ago. I slept 'till ten and looked for him inside until noon. 'Scout could've gotten pretty far in that much time.
Abe falls into step beside me as I make my way towards the garage, "Red, without his tracker, we don't really have a way to find him."
Logic. When I'm worried about John, I don't want much to do with logic.
"We'll find him the old fashioned way then, by looking," I grumble sarcastically. My tail is whipping from side to side 'cause I'm annoyed and worried. If 'Scout's gotten himself into trouble, I'm going to kick his fluffy ass.
"I can't just follow his trail. It would be a bit awkward if we were to wander around in the open while I try and get a reading on him. Besides, you know I need an object with a strong signature before I can see anything," he keeps talking because I'm not really listening. I think he's hoping that something will sink in.
"So we'll just have to think of where a werewolf might wander to and follow it up with places a naked, embarrassed 'Scout would go. Easy enough."
"That only narrows it down to every direction and every possible shrub and wall another dog could have marked. Not to mention any possible squirrels that came across his path…"
"Abe, shut up."
He sighs and doesn't say anything else. I can tell he's exasperated, but I don't really give a shit right now. I've gotta' find 'Scout. That kid's a trouble magnet and it's bad enough that he's been out all night. Knowing his luck, he probably got picked up by animal control and I'll have to bail him out of the pound. Or he wandered into a demon's nest because they had a 'free food' sign up.
Alright, he's gullible, but I've gotta' give him more credit than that.
My beeline for the truck stops when I see 'Scout creeping in the garage door. The relief I feel is probably a little more intense than I let on. "Where the hell have you been?" Great, first words out of my mouth make me sound more like his mom than his partner.
For a second, he just stares at me, but I begin to regret yelling at him when he get's that hurt puppy look. The look quickly degrades from 'hurt' to 'crushed'.
"Aw, come on 'Scout, you're killing me here. I was just worried," my attempts to patch the mistake crash and burn like the Hindenburg and I actually see tears coming to his eyes.
"He can't remember last night's events," Blue states quietly.
I glance over at him, my disbelief glaringly obvious. If my tone didn't give it away, I'm sure my sarcasm did, "If he has amnesia, how'd he remember the code to get in the garage?"
"It's not that kind of amnesia," the sheer level of fear in John's voice grabs my attention. Something happened, something bad.
"Boyscout?" I take a step towards him and John backs up until he's against the wall. I can't decide whether I should be mad or upset by that. I don't go with either. 'Scout is freaked out and getting pissed about it isn't going to help anything.
'Scout starts babbling about what he can remember, but very little of it makes sense, "And… I-I woke up… and all the blood… blood everywhere…"
I keep moving towards him, since he's out of space and I should be able to snag him, but the word "blood" stops me in my tracks. "Wait, blood? Did you get hurt?"
Abe is dead serious when he cuts in, more so than I think I've ever heard him before, "It wasn't his."
I process that for a moment. 'Scout can't have hurt somebody, it's not in him, but his aggression has gotten pretty bad the last few days. I want to know why.
"I think we need to call The Society and see if they can't find something in Andrews's old stuff."
Abe looks over at me with a shocked expression, "That was quite an insightful idea, Red."
"I have my moments," I quip back, not taking my eyes off 'Scout.
I haven't seen him so nervous since he first changed. Last time he got this worked up about the possibility that he was dangerous, he asked me to put him down for the greater good. That fact still bothers me. I know my lover extremely well and he's definitely one who will put anyone before himself. If it means a bullet to the brain to keep others safe, he'd do it without question.
No way am I going to let that happen.
I cross the last few feet between us and pull him to me. He resists a little, but there's not much fighting me.
"What if I hurt you?" He sort of sniffles the question against my chest.
Even though I know he's being serious, I have to laugh at the idea, "Come on 'Scout, it's me here."
Abe makes a comment on it as he's heading for the door, "No matter what mental state you're in, you wouldn't attack your own mate. I agree with Red, however, I believe we should get in contact with Eon and have her go through Andrews's old texts. He had more specialized material than I do, so maybe she can find something."
'Scout pushes away from me abruptly, "What if she can't? What if there isn't an answer and I'm just going feral? Maybe it was just a matter of time before I finally fucking snapped!"
Shit. He's already way beyond paranoid. "There's no way, John. Something's going on and we'll figure out what."
He sorta' slumps back against the wall and the tears start rolling. He seems exhausted, maybe emotionally, or maybe he just didn't sleep. Either way, he doesn't struggle when I scoop him up.
"It's going to be okay," I try not to sound uncertain, but truth is that I'm scared for him. If he is going feral, can we bring him back from that? Fuck if I know. All I can do is hope that Miss Brianiac can find us some answers.
I lay 'Scout on our bed and hesitate. He's staring at the ceiling blankly. Before I can say anything to him, Abe calls me from the door, "The system is up, it's waiting for you."
I do a quick visual sweep of the room to make sure there's nothing 'Scout could use to 'protect humanity from him'. My gun is holstered at my side and we keep the rest of the weapons in another part of the Bureau, so he should be fine.
I start for the door and change my mind, going back to kiss John's forehead, "I love you, kid."
His eyes finally turn away from the ceiling long enough for him to give me a broken smile. 'Scout winds his arm around my neck, whimpering quietly. It breaks my heart. We've got to figure something out quick, 'cause he won't last long like this.
"Kid, I gotta' go call Eon."
When he doesn't let go, I have to pull out of his hold. He just flops back onto the bed, going right back to staring into nothingness. I might have Abe try to read him later, figure out whether or not he's actually hurt someone. 'Scout would do a whole hell of a lot better if he knew exactly what happened last night.
I leave him regretfully, closing the door behind me. It crosses my mind to lock it, but I'm not sure whether it's for him, or for everyone else. This is insane. There is no way 'Scout would've just snapped after nearly fifty years of being a wolf. I know him, and I know that's not possible.
I don't lock the door… I just can't distrust him that far.
Abe makes a really crappy attempt at comforting me, "There is an answer, but we're too close to the situation to notice. What's the phrase, can't see the forest for the trees?"
"Yeah, sure," I dismiss him bluntly, not really wanting his counseling.
I assume that he picked up on my thoughts because he gets quiet and falls into step behind me. I never did get around to learning any sign language, so I need Abe to translate for Eon. Otherwise, I think I'd rather be left alone.
When my mood is shit, it's better if everybody keeps their distance.
"Except John, of course."
I glare at Abe and he finally catches the hint. He doesn't say anything else until the video chat window is dialing out to England. It takes several minutes for somebody to answer and I'm getting more agitated by the second. I don't sit down at the council; it's not like I can type anyway. Plus, it puts the computer a little closer to striking range and my current stress level doesn't make that a wise idea.
Abe breaks his silence when I'm about ready to tear the flashing monitor off the wall. "It is the middle of the night in Europe," he explains rationally.
I don't get a response out before the window flashes and shows a dark room. Muttering is filtering through the speaker, but I don't see anybody.
"How the hell… I know it comes on… stupid son of a…"
It has to be Lazarus. He never could get the hang of using anything modern. The guy has been around a hell of a lot longer than computers and micro chips, so I shouldn't fault him for it. I shouldn't, but it doesn't stop me from being annoyed.
"Hey, Crispy, it's on."
I see part of a shirt and then the top edge of his messy hair while he totally bypasses the camera.
"Hellboy? Can you see me?"
"Doesn't matter. I need to talk to Eon," I growl into the microphone.
"She's sleeping, everybody is. Could I-"
"Wake her up."
Lazarus finally manages to get centered in the camera and I can see that, if nothing else, my tone concerns him, "Is something going on?"
Unfortunately, I was trying to get across the fact that I'll find a way to come to England and kick his ass if he doesn't go get Eon, as opposed to 'oh dear, something's wrong'.
"Go get Eon!"
Abe sits down at the computer, blocking me out of the conversation.
"Hey," I snarl.
Abe ignores me and explains the situation, "We desperately need Eon's input on a matter concerning John. It would be greatly appreciated if you could go rouse her for us."
I don't see Lazarus's reaction, but I hear his "alright" clearly enough.
Abe turns in the chair, "If you clarify what you want-"
"I don't want to hear it, Blue."
I pace while we wait. It seems like half an eternity before Eon sits down at the computer. She's aged a lot since the first day I met her, going from a little girl, to a teenager with six different college degrees, to the new head of the bakery when the other guy died.
John keeps up with them better than I do, but I think she married Dr. Andrews's adopted son in her thirties (after he chased her forever). As far as I know, they never had any kids, but I haven't actually been at the Society's home base in fifteen years.
"John's got a major problem," is how I start.
- John
The smell of perfume jars me out of my thoughts. At first, I ignore it and continue to brood, but the scent doesn't fade. It's so sticky-sweet that it's almost gag worthy. It seems extremely familiar, but I can't place why. No women in the bureau come to mind when linked with the smell.
A vague memory flashes to mind, along with a powerful rage. I can remember a need to feel Berkley's life bleeding out from between my teeth. I wanted to tear him to ribbons and feast on his insides.
I shudder and try to shake the memory. I'm going feral; it's the only logical explanation for this. Cold fear takes root in my soul. But I thought I had to taste human flesh before I would attack people… I don't understand.
The door to the room clangs loudly as someone pulls it open. I sit bolt upright in the bed. I didn't hear Red's footsteps and the scent of perfume just intensified. I consider hiding for fear of what I might do to whoever's coming in, but the thought comes a little too late to put it in action.
Alexia comes in just as I leap to my feet. She looks uncertain, and maybe a little frightened, but she edges into the room anyway. Strange that she doesn't have the sharp stink of fear on her, but her body spray could be cutting into that.
"I heard about what happened."
My shoulder begins to ache slightly. I rub it while I process her words. As far as I thought, only Red and Abe knew about my recent escapades, but it would have been easy to overhear our conversation in any number of places.
She seems to lose her tentativeness and comes very close to me, definitely within the range of my claws.
My eyes stray to the smooth curve of her neck and the primal voice of my mind whispers that my fingers could wrap all the way around with ease. I push the idea out of my head so hard that I feel a chill crawl up my spine in its absence.
"John?" She calls my name like it's not the first time she's said it.
I snap my eyes back to Alexia's face, taking several steps away. "I'm sorry. You should go."
She closes the distance between us again, grabbing my arm, "But I know someone who can help you. He can re-teach your wolfen side, calm it down."
I've never heard more wonderful words in my life, but I can't keep the skepticism out of my voice, "Really? How far away is he?"
"He's based out of Manhattan."
Part of me screams that there's no way, the likelihood that someone could just 'tame' my wolf is infinitesimal, but the other side is desperately hoping that it's true.
What if it is?
"I don't know…" I start to try and dodge the offer, but Alexia reassures me instantly.
"He's an expert, and if he can't help you, what could it hurt to try?"
She gently pulls on my arm and I feel strangely at ease with the suggestion. She's right, what could it hurt? It's just a short trip into New York. All I can do is pray that I can keep my wolf under control until we get to this guy.
"I should tell Hellboy," I say softly, looking around for my shoes.
I'm still wearing the clothes I stole from that family's house… I need to change. I grab a fresh pair of jeans out of the closet and am heading for the dresser for a shirt when Alexia clears her throat. I glance over at her, knowing it's a sign she's going to say something.
"It might be better if you leave your mate out of it for now. You know he'll want to come with us and he really shouldn't show up at this man's office. It would just be something else that the bureau has to cover up."
She makes a good point, but it makes me uneasy.
"He almost always knows where I am. We both prefer it that way."
"Do you think you'll be able to convince him to stay behind?"
I take a second to chew on that while I slip into the bathroom to change. There's no way I'd be able to keep Hellboy at home. We've barely been separated since we became mates and I doubt a slim possibility that this meeting will fix things will be enough to convince him to stay out of it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot HB and my communicators sitting together on the counter. I snag mine and clip it to my belt, keeping it off for the time being. At the very least, he'll be able to find me if I do go nuts in the city. The tracker in the tiny device transmits no matter what.
I come out of the bathroom to find Alexia waiting anxiously.
She glances down at her watch and looks up at me with a smile, "If we hurry, we should be able to make it before his offices close."
"So, does he just run a werewolf taming business out of his offices, or what?" I ask, unable to keep my curiosity at bay. The picture I have in my head is probably a lot weirder than reality. This guy has got to have some kind of cover, just like the rest of us.
Alexia laughs, "No, nothing like that. His official title is a dog trainer, he turns out most of the animals that you see in movies and in the Broadway shows, but you wouldn't be the first werewolf he's taken on."
Great… a dog trainer. I'm almost insulted by that.
We pile into one of the bureau's Lincolns with Alexia behind the wheel. As we pull away from the base, I look back with uncertainty. I hope I'm making the right decision in leaving HB out of this, in going at all. If I'm not, things could spiral out of control in the blink of an eye.
My wolf pulses in the back of my head, and, for the first time in a long time, I wish I was human again.
TBC…
More of this chapter is from John's POV than I normally like to do, but I find it's a little necessary for his internal conflict. You'll get more HB in the next few.
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Between the Lines: Sequel to Somewhere Between