UNCONSCIOUS GIRLS

October 12th, xxxx

CURLS FRAMING HER FACE and her face turned away yet he sees the smile half hidden, shoulders slightly shaking in laughter but he puffs his chest, blew out a breath and lifts the hammer with both hands, back hunched over, legs bowed, strands of black hair stabbing the left of his eye almost blinding him.

Struggling, he places one foot after another and another until he's right in front of the crouched woman peering into what he calls 'syrup eyes', lively, thick and sweet like the sweetener.

Everyone else calls it golden hazel but between them, it's syrup—his syrup, her syrup—the shine of it laughing at a joke they only knew.

(Here,) he says out of breath, eyebrows furrowed just daring her to laugh at him. She does laugh as she carries him and the hammer in her embrace, tickling his ears with the harmony only he can bring out of her.

The ride back home is as tense as it'll get, Precious thinks absentmindedly staring at the rolling plains swooshing past. That though he had a rushed shower, he's angsty to soak himself in a long, warm bath.

Lolling his head on the head rest, eyes closed, body tingles at the prospect of the soothing bath, long body stretched out blanketed under the scent of juniper and clover, tensed muscles loosening, lulled into a deep sleep.

His eyelids becomes heavy, three days lack of sleep catching up to him but it's a restless nap.

One minute he's there alone in his fragrant bathroom, the next, someone's kneading his shoulders, massaging the chinks in his neck, combing the tresses of his hair and when he looks up into blue eyes, a fist grabs his hair, the other pressing on his shoulder, the blue sparkling with the need to hurt him.

From there it becomes a series of teasing pain—bite marks on his neck, shoulders, collarbones and ear, hand prints on his thighs, pecs and biceps, his erection bobs at the pinches on soft flesh, skin a garment of goosebumps, body shivering as hot breath whispers on his nape, soft lips an hairsbreadth from his.

The car jerks and he wakes. Flushed and annoyed but disappointed that real him isn't aroused. The cursed blessing of a tired body. He tries to sleep back but to no avail and his already sour mood drops.

He stays like that, grumpy and bitter as they passed the sleepy village—their dirty green hills, shepherding farms, quaint houses—into their territory, the forehead of the canyon coming into view.

Precious believes it's poetic justice that even after seven years of being in a leadership role, some things still manage to surprise him, make him hearken back to his hypocrisy when all he used to do was scream about the injustice of compromise.

I don't ever want you to walk a mile in my shoes, his mother had once said, crinkling glassy eyes hardened from years of life but he, like the fool he'd been had said word for word, I'll walk more miles with ease.

Ease, he'd said. Bah! What a load of rubbish.

Easy would be free from the Blue bastards antics, the human government intervention and general life discontentment.

Easy is being powerful enough to protect the family you swore Heaven and Earth would be protected.

Easy is not having your hands tied, your head splitting, your Pack vulnerable, your children collectibles.

Easy is not spending three days in a conference that yielded nothing—no solutions, no amending, absolute zilch. It didn't even end on a sour note—that would've been better. No, no, no. It just fizzled out. A bust.

The conclusion, we do what we have to do, an unsaid motto of 'you face your Pack, I face mine' was established. Not that he'd expected miracles but stalemate isn't the dream.

Nor is having no choice. Choice, such a fancy word. Something you can say but can't put on paper. It's amazing how lying to oneself comes back to bite in the ass. Even more amazing by how it's permissible, a smokescreen for helplessness.

The soak-in can't get here fast enough.

Parked in the compound driveway leading to his office, Precious clambers out and is immediately greeted by the doc and a tight faced Cam on his doorsteps.

Stifling a sigh, he walks towards them just as the car peels off. No sooner has he gotten near than Cam opens his mouth but the Doc has the decency to interrupt and ask about his day first.

"Welcome back, Alpha. How was the conference?"

5"3 and petite, the Doc looks straight, straight up at him, forcing a smile on burgundy painted lips, loosely crossed four fingered webbed hands stroking her arms, white coat still against the morning breeze unlike Cam's white shirt billowing, big combat boots making a dent in the ground.

"Thank you. It was fine," a pause, "Is everything okay?"

"It's been a long ride, Alpha. It can wait until—"

"We have a situation. It can't wait."

"He just came back from a long journey, he must be exhausted. Alpha—"

"He asked, we answered. It can't wait."

Right then and there, they starts arguing. Cam's favourite gesticulating action wilding all over the place, the Doc upturning her nose, fists balled in her coat pockets sniping in a controlled tone while he stares at them for a while as they go back and forth.

Becoming increasingly annoyed, he cut their sniping short.

"Well, what the fuck is going on?"

Cam's arms mid-air, the Doc's finger pointed on his chest noticing that yes, the Alpha's still here. Composing herself, the Doc takes his arm and gently leads him towards the clinic, refusing to tell him without showing him first.

The door opens and closes, the smell of antiseptic hitting him first and hard for someone who just spent the better part of three days bathing in the scent of flowers.

Passing the receptionist area empty but some chairs, they come around a long but small corridor past a few doors—x-ray, OB-Gyne/labour room etc— to the sick bay.

Natural light flows in the room, blue curtains drawn, the low whirring of fans and the humming of medical instruments a distant sombre tune.

Blocked by a white curtain and a tray, he steps forward, immediately zeroing in on the Shifter hunched over a bed, head buried in his arms, stiff posture looking like he hadn't moved an inch.

But just as immediate, Precious notices the bodies on the twin beds clad in ugly striped hospital gown mostly kept alive by the oxygen mask plugged in to the ventilator machine, pallor skin a dead sheet.

It takes a while for him to adjust, to digest what he's seeing, heart hammering like a thousand drums thinking that it's one of them, one of their children injured with one foot in the grave but the insignia on the front of their necks storied that it's not one of them, it's the Blue Sun and his heart threatens to capsize and burst.

Instead of his heart bursting, his voice did. Hush but pissed off.

"What's going on here? What are two Blue Sun doing here?"

By the force of his voice, the Shifter raise his head, bloodshot eyes grazing through him before settling on an area between his shoulder and earlobe but by that time, he's turned around on the Doc calmly leaning against the tray.

"The girls were found in the Winter Forest—"

"On our territory? And you decided to bring them even deeper? First Cam skulking in their territory now you're bringing them here. Why not just blare a fucking siren and tell Blue Sun to come for us."

"Alpha—"

The door opens just as he interrupts with, "Who found them?"

Standing off to the side, Cam crosses his arms and answered, "The soldiers did on their morning jog."

"All of them?"

"Yes. With the exception of Blue Sun omegas, yes."

Great. Just great. Excellent.

Pinching tear ducts, he squeezed his eyes shut and through gritted teeth says, "We are sending them back. Right where you found them."

"Alpha!" in unison, the Doc and Kamil objects but it's Kamil's short yell that reverberates the small walls, the chair he sits on falls to the floor.

"They will die if we send them back. Look at them! They're barely surviving as is."

Precious face him, hard eyes glancing at the heavily breathing girls, heads wrapped in bandages, unmoving.

"I feel for them. Really, I do. But if word gets out that we have barely alive children in our custody, how do you think it'll go, hmm?"

Strides towards the sleep deprived Shifter, gaunt face a shadow of how he looked, Precious fires questions at him.

"Do you think the Blue Sun will go 'ah, I understand how two injured children just happened to be on your land'? Do you think he'll say 'I don't see how this isn't retaliation for the quarrels'?

"Do you think that power hungry piece of shit won't use this opportunity? What do you think, Major?"

Towering above the defiant blue-eyed Shifter, the force of his frustration reduces but the harshness of his voice doesn't fade.

"My priority are not these girls. I will not put my Pack in harm's way for them."

Kamil glance over his shoulder for suport but when he doesn't get one, he juts out his chin. However, Precious notices the quivering of his upper lip, the furrowing of his brows, the clenching and unclenching of his fists.

"What if... What if it's a set-up? A trap? You said it yourself. The Blue Sun is power hungry. He could be setting us up!"

Precious nods. "It's possible. But there's no evidence of the scheme. On the other hand, these girls are on our land. We send them back."

"No. No, please. Doc! Say something. This isn't right."

Glanced away at the plea in his voice, the desperation on his face. "I cannot have this complications two days before the land re-evaluation."

"We can not send them back. They're barely awake," Kamil moves to grab his wrists but stops and shakily comb his hair.

"We can not risk it. This can not be explained."

"We found them. We're nursing them. That's the explanation."

"Major—"

"Them dying on our turf will be worse, Alpha," the Doc starts and continues when he turns around. "We nurse them back to health then we send them back. It'll be better if they live than if they die."

"And what if they die? Look at them. They have one foot in the grave. What if they die, Doc? Any solution for that?"

Silence descends, discomfort stays. Every Shifter is aware of the consequences of hiding another pack's member.

A pack Shifter dying on another pack's soil has started debilitating wars. It's okay for the omegas in his possession—he didn't snatch them, they aren't dying but these girls, these girls can end their Pack as they know it.

"If they die, we cremate them. Send them off properly. We'll be respecting them and protecting our hide. Blue Sun can't start a fight without the bodies."

Camuel suggests calmly as if he's numbering cartons of eggs. They stare at him, he shrugs and the spell is broken when Kamil scrapes the chair upright and sinks into it, eyes closed against his palms.

Precious sighs, scrubs a hand across his face. "This will backfire. If they stay here, it will backfire."

"I don't think we have any choice, Alpha."

"There is a third option," Cam briefly opens his arms wide and closes when his palms slaps. "We drop them on Blue Sun land in the dead of the night."

That sounds good enough. But not right. Especially if the Blue Sun are waiting for them to make a mistake. Doing that, no matter the arguement made can be cause for war.

"For now, they stay here," the Major lifts his head, blue eyes almost shining. "For now. I'll think about what to do. Cam, follow me."

Escaping the stuffiness that's the clinic and almost dead bodies, Precious and his brother stroll away from the building without speaking until they're in the compound facing the structure of his office and residence side-by-side.

"I trust the soldiers can keep their mouths shut but I'll have a word with them regardless. They need to understand how grime the situation is."

"They are pretty shaken but with a few choice words from you, they'll get over it."

Precious tilts his head to the sky sighting little birds touring back and forth, the white sky a blank canvas of splashes of ocean blue, orange rays and clouds so thick they remind him of sponge cake.

"Cam, is there a soldier you trust that's capable and secretive?"

"Andu—"

"A private."

"Private Zaye. She's arrogant but gets the job done."

"Her arrogance must not get in the way," he raises a brow at Cam, "This is a delicate job."

"I understand, Precious. I wouldn't nominate someone that's a liability. She keeps her head cool, trust me."

Precious digests this, keeping an eye on the door leading to his office, a strange sort of discordance filling him.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"It's off not seeing Nuka. Or hearing him."

"Why's that strange?"

"He's usually the first I see anytime I get back. Him and a steaming mug of coffee. He's probably asleep."

"He's not asleep. He's with the Ambassador—"

"The Ambassador's still here? He didn't leave?"

"He refused to leave without seeing you. It was either I threw him out or punch him unconscious but that didn't seem diplomatic."

"Neither is what he's doing. But don't do that."

He claps once."Great. Okay. Here's what we do. Tell the soldier I want any and every information on those girls. I need her to be fast but of course efficient and secretive. She reports only to me. Is that clear?"

"Understood."

Mumbling under his breath, Precious turns on his heel towards the Ambassador's residence, a ten steps short walk.

Yanks the door open and without taking off his shoes, stomps to the parlour where he sees Nuka cowered in himself, arms wrapped around lanky frame, head drooped, expression flat.

Turning angry eyes at the Ambassador eating like a starving dog has the audacity to raise a glass of wine at him as if they'll toast to friendship.

"Nuka. Leave."

Grateful for the reprieve, Nuka all but runs away to the displeasure of the lips smacking human.

"Ambassador," a tight-lipped smile. "You've overstayed your welcome. If you want to be a North Star, all you have to do is ask."

Eyes narrowed, the man hastily swallows and wags a finger at him. "Mr. North, you don't have a right to talk to me in that—"

"I don't play games, Ambassador. And neither should you. That means when you're done eating, you're leaving."

"I will not leave this property until I get a response from you," he stands, legs spread apart like he wants a fight. "You run without so much as a word. My Mr. North, that's cowardly."

But Precious isn't interested in a fight. He's interested in getting the man out of here so he can have a decent, somewhat restful bath if not sleep. Goddess, that's not so much to ask, is it?

"The Consul will get their answer during the conference twenty-two days from today. In the meantime, an edited document of the treaty would be sent to the Consul. Edited with my terms and conditions."

"Mr. North, after so many liaisons together, I feel obligated to tell you this. Your hands are tied. There's no condition the Consul—"

"Have a lovely rest of your meal, Ambassador. In an hour's time, say your goodbye and vacate the premises."

Without waiting for a response, Precious walks away shutting the door noiselessly behind him all but falling against the door of his house when he enters.