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Hell on earth has arrived.
Otherwise known as the 14th day of the lunar cycle, the full moon; the one day a month all wolves are home or out in the wild, free from work and school, as their instincts take the lead and their bodies shift. It’s meant to be freeing, an embrace of their natural state of being. A way to relieve stress and wash away the weight of the human world, a way to further connect with their pack and kin.
And at one point in time, Dr. Jack Abbot believed in all that. Those times were far behind him now though. They died with his wife, his mate. His Dawn. Cold and buried six feet under in a family plot further east twenty years ago, a part of Jack’s heart and soul down there with her for the rest of eternity.
His cynicism hadn’t lightened up when the old mating bond eventually scarred over, left numb like a seared nerve ending. Despite the support of Jack’s pack, his blood family and the wolves of the ED (even some of those that weren’t wolves), he still can’t bring himself to let his wolf take over. They’ve been at odds for so long, Jack suppressing and his wolf begging, that it’s become routine. Ignoring the moon, that is.
Jack has shifted plenty, it was physically impossible not to after a while of course, but he only allowed it when he was absolutely sure his apartment was locked tight. For added security, he locked himself in the bedroom and handcuffed his only ankle to the old radiator heater. Which is where Jack sat now, bare back slumped against the grey of his bedroom wall. One of the pillows from his bed was beneath him, cushioning the hardwood floor to an extent.
Also because he was buckass nude. The shift always wrecked whatever clothes he happened to be wearing and his boxer supply was already too close to none. Sweat rolls down Jack’s back as he flexes his shoulders, arms crossed. His good leg is raised to accommodate the cuff, his stump stretched out across the floor.
Everything is itchy. Jack’s grey tail twitches beside him in agreement. Despite the heat his body is generating, a cold shiver sweeps through him and he ducks his head.
Hot. The wolf whimpers. When Jack remains silent, the voice comes again. Too hot.
“Suck it up,” Jack bites. “Heats been off.”
He tongues his incisors as he feels the rest of fangs begin to drop. A low grumble rises in his throat; Jack can’t tell if it’s his own or the wolf’s. If Jack’s lucky, all the wolf will do is whine and bitch and then go back to sleep.
Run. Moon.
“No.”
Run!
“I said no!” Jack snaps, one hand sweeping into his hair and tugging. His tail lashes.
Why? Pack!
“They don’t need us.” It was mostly true. His family was home and the wolves of the Pitt had left this morning, headed north towards one of the reserves. Jack had been invited, as always. And, as always, had politely declined. They didn't actually need him there, even if he was something of a father figure to most of them. He had pretended he hadn’t seen Dana’s sad all-knowing look. Pack!
“You never listen, this is why we’re here,” Jack retorts, forehead dropping to press to his knee. His claws are sharpening. The anger isn’t helping. Slow and unsteady, Jack blows out a breath, brow knit tight. He can do this, he can reign it in. His slick chests rises and falls, each breath coming easier than the last.
It was an army trick Jack had learned, back when that was his life. Controlling his wolf was a necessary part of his training, something he got decently good at. The only difference was they were in tune, they worked together. It was a whole lot easier when they both had what they wanted, a mate to come home to.
Even when the IED took his leg and the army shipped him home with an honorary discharge and a shit ton of PTSD, he had Dawn. Jack and his wolf were hurting and lost but they had each other and their shared love. But the universe is cruel and unjust and doesn’t care about love and those that have fallen into it. Jack was only a year into his residency when Dawn got sick. It happened fast, it ended even faster. She fought for four months.
Werewolf bonds were sacred, they tied family and friends together, the whole pack. Everyone had felt the blow of Dawn’s death, even those that weren’t wolves and couldn’t physically feel the bonds. If it hadn’t been for.. Jack’s best friend, and the next strongest bond he had, Jack probably would’ve faded away to nothing. Would’ve been buried beside her. He still wishes for that on the bad days. It would’ve been kinder than this.
The breathing is working.
And then the opening guitar to Green Day’s American Idiot blasts loudly from his phone across the room on his nightstand and all progress is lost. Jack startles, head shooting up and wide eyes locking on the call screen that's lit up, the expected name written across the top in damning bold white letters. He forgot to silence his phone. The wolf howls. Fuck.
Mate!
“No!” Jack denies, throwing his head back against the wall. He doesn’t even notice the hit.
Mate! Go! The wolf demands, tearing at Jack’s insides. He can feel his body rippling, the wolf actually fighting back now.
“We don’t have one!” Jack snarls, pulling back, clinging onto his human brain, his critical thinking. Facts. “She’s dead! Dawn is dead. We have no mate.”
His wolf shrinks at the reminder, familiar grief sweeping through Jack. Gone.
“Yes,” he says, sagging like a puppet with cut strings. “Yes, Dawn is gone.” The ringtone quiets, the incoming call missed. A sudden strange wave of determination floods Jack’s spine and he tenses. Not forgotten, still loved.
“Wha- yes. Yes, she’s still loved. I love her,” Jack affirms, confused. This is some of the most clarity his wolf has ever had on a full moon. The most English words Jack’s ever heard him speak anyway. Another.
“Another?” Jack parrots slowly, a bad feeling creeping up his neck.
Robby.
“No.” Jack’s eyes squeeze shut, head tipping back. He knew it was coming, he knew it was. It was only a matter of time before it circled back around to this, Jack had just been foolishly hoping that something would be different this time. Hoping his wolf had finally given up. The pillow beneath him is drenched. “No, we've gone over this. Mikey is our friend, he’s pack, he’s human. He is not our mate.”
Why? The wolf whines.
“BECAUSE HE DOESN’T WANT ME!” Jack erupts, clawed fist slamming down hard against the floor. It splinters. Jack swallows around his suddenly thick throat, blinking through misty eyes at the ceiling. His tail is tucked tight to his thigh. “He doesn’t want us.”
Lie.
“It’s not a lie.” Jack’s voice breaks, weary under the weight of this part of him that is still so hopeful for love, for a partner. He can box up his human feelings and shove them somewhere dark, pretend they don't exist and carry on, but his wolf doesn’t work like that. He’s an animal. He doesn’t understand anything beyond want.
This is why Jack stays home, locks himself away. When the wolf gets free, it’s like all of Jack’s desires are all he knows. And Michael is at the forefront of them. The first time Jack had woken the morning after a full moon tucked into Robby’s sheets was also the last. Jack had thanked any god that would listen that Robby himself had been away at a conference, and that Jack was able to replace the busted window the wolf had smashed to get in before the man returned home.
Jack hasn’t even told Robby what he actually does when he stays home on the full moon. He doesn’t trust himself to shift anywhere and not run straight to Mikey.
Go.
“Again with the listening. Robinavitch does not want us, okay? He doesn’t. He’s perfectly happy at home.” Might as well drag the knife. “With Noelle. That pretty she-wolf, remember?” The wolf roars in protest and Jack nods in satisfaction, nevermind the heartache his own reminder causes. “That’s right, he’s happy with another wolf, he doesn’t-”
NO!
Jack’s muscles spasm and he lurches sideways. His hands catch his upper body before his face can slam into the floor but his ankle twists painfully in the cuff, working irritatingly perfectly. Fire races through his veins, his joints are popping. There’s no stopping the looming shift now, his wolf is too strong. Tears form at the corners of Jack’s eyes as he lies on the floor, his breaths hitching in his chest. It’s like this every time. Hell on earth.
Painful. Unless. “Wait!” Jack almost sobs out, rising up on shaky forearms. “Wait, just- hold on.” He can feel the wolf pacing, teeth gnashing. As fast as he can on weak arms, Jack crawls just enough to grab a plastic box that’s been shoved under his bed. With trembling hands he pries it open, grasping the fabric inside tightly and shuffling back.
Robby’s scent floods Jack’s senses as he buries his face in the hoodie, sucking in air like a man starved of oxygen. The soft cotton of it soothes the sensitive skin at his neck and the pain largely recedes. Jack slides sideways down the wall, lying on his side with the hoodie acting as a pillow beneath his head, nose turned down into it. The scent surrounds him like a blanket. “Okay,” he surrenders. “Okay.”
It’s not long after that Jack succumbs, eyes rolling as the wolf takes control.
–
Hey Jack, it’s me.
Was just calling to make sure you’re doing alright. Moon’s up now though so I understand why you didn’t pick up. Dana called, said you stayed home again. You should really go up with the others some time, man, it’ll be good for you.
Let me know if you need anything okay? Remember my sweatshirt is in the box if you need any scent aid.
Call me when you get a chance, Jackie. Have a good full moon.