Be Careful What You Wish For - [active/open]

[protagonized]

There's a moment you know

Bloomsbury - 2 January

The email had come completely out of the blue.

Dear Simon,

My name is Robert Richardson. I was recently contacted by a woman from Catholic Charities Washington, who passed along your contact information. I understand that you have been looking for your birth family for quite some time, and I think I can help. On September 3, 1993, my daughter gave birth to a baby boy at Saint Joseph Medical Center in Tacoma, Washington. She was only fifteen and decided that adoption was the best thing for her son. The documents she signed indicate that he was adopted by John O'Neill and Cynthia Braithwaite, and that they named him Simon.

If that information is correct, I believe you are my grandson.

I will be in London on a business trip from the 8th through the 16th of this month. I understand it's short notice, but I would like to meet you and your parents.

Looking forward to your reply,

Bob Richardson

Simon emerged from his room, white and shaking, to find Matt sprawled on the futon, blasting away imaginary terrorists on Simon's Xbox.

"...They found them," he said, looking utterly dazed. "They found my biological family. My birth mum's dad just emailed me and he's going to be here in a few days. He wants to meet."


You're fucked.

Going home - 9 January (01:17)

Well, dinner had been nice.

Simon still couldn't quite believe he'd met his grandfather--his real grandfather--and that he was tax attorney with a practice in Seattle. Whatever he'd imagined for his birth family, he hadn't thought it would be that mundane. He'd gotten to see pictures of his other family members, too, and that was what had really made the whole thing real to him. He recognized parts of himself in those faces, especially his mother's. The shared the same hair color, the same eyes, the same smile.

He wished he could have gotten to meet her.

That was the most disappointing part. With tears in his eyes, his grandfather had told them about her death in an automobile accident at the age of 19. There had been ice on the road and she took a curve too quickly. Her car hit a tree and she died instantly.

They were well into their third bottle of wine at that point. Simon had started to place hints, wondering if this was the side that he'd gotten his powers from, but either he'd been far too subtle or Bob had no idea and Simon eventually gave up. It was enough for him, for now. Now that he knew who his mother was, he could start working on trying to find his father.

In fact, Bob had started to indicate that might be in the stars. He and Simon's parents seemed to get along very well, and by the time they were on bottle number four, they were begging him to stay longer in London and he was inviting them all to Washington the next summer.

It was nearly midnight when they finally parted ways, agreeing that they needed to meet again before Bob finished his business in London and returned to the States. Simon hailed a cab and started stumbling home, more than halfway drunk and completely awed by what had just happened.

And then it all went sideways.

Simon got the text message at 1:17.

It was a picture of his mum, bloodied and bruised, with a large kitchen knife held under her neck. She was crying.

Come home, it read. Your parents are dying to see you. Calling the police is a very bad idea.

Simon dropped everything and started to run.

[OOC: Simon needs your character's help! He's running towards his parents' house in Westminster. If your character is out and about this evening, he'll try to get them to come help save his parents.]

Not an inch more room

Westminster - 9 January (02:01)

"And here's the little mutt now."

Bob Richardson had completely transformed. Gone was the mild-mannered attorney from Tacoma. He seemed larger now, stronger. He sneered at Simon, at his parents who were beaten and bloody on the floor, tied up with their clothing.

"I've just been telling your mom and dad about the other things I learned about you. I can't believe you managed to hide it from them. You're a little freak, just like your fucking father. C'mon, freak, and show your mommy and daddy what you can really do."

[ooc: I'm going to be posting threads in the comments with prompts to respond to.]

To self-destruct.

Somewhere in Westminster - 9 January (05:38)

Simon shivered in the cold. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten here, just that he'd started running and hadn't stopped until he couldn't run anymore. He was still only wearing the dressing gown his dad had handed him.

Dad. Oh god.

Mum and Dad couldn't even look at him, now that they'd seen what he really was. Now that they'd seen him rip a man's throat out. He was still covered in Richardson's blood. The stench made him gag, but there wasn't anything left in his stomach to lose. He pulled the dressing gown tighter around himself and sobbed. They all hated him now. Even Matt. Of course they did. He was just another mindless killer, like all the other monsters.

He was too wrapped up in his misery and self-pity to notice the footsteps approaching him.

Comments

Not an inch more room

[protagonized]

Confusion

[protagonized]

"Why are you doing this? Let them go!"

Simon's voice was cracking with strain. He couldn't understand how this had happened.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" Richardson asked, pointing a large knife at Simon. "A shifter." His eyes gleamed maniacally. "I've been hunting down your kind since my Anna died. Your father tainted her with his filth. And now I've got you. My flesh and blood and a monster just like him."

Simon screamed again, "Please, just let them go!" He could feel himself starting to change, responding to the danger of the situation.

"Get my parents out of here," he called to the person behind him. "Please, make sure they're safe."

Then the white dog launched itself at the old man, fangs bared.

[OOC: I'll be NPCing the parents and Evil Grandpa during the fight]

Aftermath

[protagonized]

Richardson was dead, his throat ripped apart by Simon's jaws.

Simon himself lay in a corner, still in dog form and covered in blood. Most of it was Richardson's, but not all. He was quick for an old man, and skilled with that knife. He looked up and saw his parents staring at him, but when his eyes met theirs, they looked away.

Slowly, painfully, he began to change back.

"Are they okay?" he asked once he'd transformed enough to speak.

[paenumbra]

Matt felt numb. He'd never seen this side of Simon before tonight. The look in his eye as he attacked and the blood curdling snarls were sights that Matt was going to be seeing in his nightmares for weeks to come. It sent shivers down his back just thinking about it. There was nothing he could do but watch in horror as Simon ripped out Richardson's throat. God, the blood was everywhere - splattered on his clothes.

He was kicked out of his haze when Simon spoke and looked over at his parents. The expression on Cynthia and John's face mirrored his own but at least he'd had the privilege of knowing Simon's secret. Simon's parents hadn't had that luxury and it showed. He knelt down next to Cynthia, looking for signs of injury. Apart from a few bruises and marks from the zip-ties that bound her wrists, she seemed physically untouched.

"They're fine," he said, his voice hollow. "I'm just going to get a pair of scissors from the kitchen to cut the ties off."

He stood up and looked over at Simon. He was covered in blood but he couldn't will his legs to take him over to his best friend. He was afraid and that simple thought made him feel incredibly guilty. "Are you alright?"

[protagonized]

Simon spat out blood, gagging at the taste. He cowered in the corner, far away from the others, not even caring about his nakedness. If he could have run away to avoid facing them all, he would have, but he was suddenly so exhausted he didn't trust himself to stand.

When Matt asked how he was, he just turned his head and stared at the wall. He could feel the eyes on him, and he could smell the fear in the air.

"Call the Night Council," he said eventually. "Lancelot Dulac, if you can reach him. The number's in my phone."

Someone needed to clean this up.

[paenumbra]

Matt disappeared into the kitchen and returned moments later with a pair of scissors. He bent down and released Simon's parents before he moved into the room. The blood was everywhere making it difficult to walk. He picked up the remains of Simon's clothing and discovered his phone underneath.

"He attacked you first," Matt said, his fingers hovering over the screen. "You were protecting your family. Anyone in your position would have done the same."

He scrolled through Simon's contacts and found the number. The phone seemed to ring for a eternity before it went into voicemail. Matt cursed and hung up, redialing the number. Someone needed to help them and it couldn't be the police. As he waited for Lancelot to pick up the phone, he grabbed a blanket off of a chair and brought it over to Simon.

"I can get you some clothes," he offered. He didn't know what else he could do for Simon. He'd never experienced anything like this before and he was lost, hoping that he was doing the right thing.

[protagonized]

Simon looked at the blanket as if he didn't quite understand what it was. Up close, he looked even worse. There was blood staining his mouth and his teeth, and a deep gash in his arm where Richardson had slashed out in a final, desperate attempt to get the dog off him.

Finally, he grabbed it out of Matt's hands and turned back towards the wall. He couldn't face anyone right now, much less the pitying eyes of his best friend or the fearful stares of parents who had just realized their child wasn't even human.

"Just...take my mum and dad and go."

[constantprisoner]

Sirius had never really considered himself to be the type to go for an evening stroll, but here he was, with that exact habit. It bothered him, but he really hadn't much else to do. Maybe he should get a library card, or break down and get a TV or a computer (but both were so expensive). So walking it was.

In a way he didn't mind, since he was getting reacquainted with the city, in a way he'd never known. In his younger days he'd run wild and free down the main streets, but now he was getting to know back alleys, side streets and other places someone wouldn't normally go. It was always useful when he found himself recognized and needing to get away.

Not to mention that something always seemed to happen on his walks. A chance meeting, a bit of excitement. Sirius wasn't sure what to make of that but decided not to dwell too much on it. Especially since he had just seen a familiar face dart past him.

"Simon?" And without a second thought, he was after the boy. "Is something the matter?"

[protagonized]

"My mum and dad," was all Simon had breath for, by way of explanation. Still running, he handed the older shapeshifter his cell phone, showing him the picture of his mother and the demand.

He was crying, but he was too intent on getting to his parents to notice a thing like that.

"Why would someone do this?"

[constantprisoner]

That was not was Sirius had been expecting when he got the phone. A medical emergency maybe, but nothing so dire. He picked up his pace to keep up with Simon, handing the phone back. A part of him wanted to stop him, get him to calm down (the logical, rational part that Sirius normally didn't listen to), but he also understood the need for urgency.

"I wish I could tell you, since you don't seem like the type to have enemies. Where's your house?"

[protagonized]

"Near Notting Hill."

It was almost too far to run, but running felt good. Like a release. He felt like he was shaking apart at the seams, ready to explode with fear and anger and frustration. Putting his energy into something else...helped.

"Tonight was normal! I can't understand why someone...would want to..."

Suddenly he had a horrifying thought. What if...? No, it couldn't be it.

He'd found his family. They wouldn't do this to him after all these years.

[constantprisoner]

Notting Hill. That was far from here, but running the main streets would only slow them down and something told Sirius that public transportation wasn't going to cut it in this situation.

"Look, Simon, I know this is happening fast but you've got to keep thinking straight."

The last thing he needs is for someone to make the same mistakes he did. Stupid mistakes.

"But I can get you to Notting Hill, I know a couple shortcuts."

[protagonized]

Simon almost didn't hear Sirius. He was too intent on getting home, on putting one foot in front of the other and running across the city to save his parents, to think about other things.

"I...what?"

Shortcut? What shortcut?

Nevertheless, he found himself following the older shifter down an alley, shouting his home address to the other as they ran.

There's a moment you know

[paenumbra]

The sounds of gun fire and team chatter bombarded Matt's ears over XBox Live.

"To the left! The left! They're coming from the.... yes! Perfect, now head towards the tower and I'll meet you there."

Out of the corner of his eye Matt saw Simon exit his room. He was white and shaking, his mouth moving but Matt couldn't make out the words. Something was up and that was far more important than the team match currently going on.

"Sorry, guys, gotta run," Matt said suddenly. His teammates burst into colorful curses as Matt hopped out of the game, sliding the headphones off his ears. He turned to Simon, tossing the controller onto the coffee table in front of him.

"Hey, sorry," he apologized. "Big match. What's going on? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

[protagonized]

"Maybe I have," Simon replied, still looking incredibly stunned. He ran back into his room and reemerged with his laptop, the email still open and prominently displayed.

He laughed weakly. "I don't know if it was Redbright or the private investigator my parents hired or even if the adoption agency decided to do it, but they did it. They fucking did it. They found my birth family."

[paenumbra]

"Holy shit."

Matt moved over on the couch, giving Simon room to sit down next to him. He peered over his shoulder and read the e-mail. He whistled softly as he reached the end, clapping Simon on the shoulder.

"Look at that! You're American, mate! Never been to Washington but if pop culture can be believed there are tons of shifters out there. Are you going to respond?"

[protagonized]

Simon laughed. He sat down on the couch next to his friend because he didn't think his legs could hold him any longer. He was shaking with excitement and relief.

"I've always been American, Matt," he pointed out. "I've had dual citizenship since I was born."

He shrugged. "Of course I'm going to respond. I've been looking for my birth family since I was fourteen. Though I wish I knew why my birth mother didn't contact me directly..."

[paenumbra]

"There could be a million reasons why she couldn't contact you," Matt said. "Maybe she doesn't have email. Strange as it may seem, there are people not connected. Or maybe she's nervous of what you might have to say. I wouldn't worry too much about it. Someone wants to meet you. The rest of your family will come later."

Matt smiled brightly. "Hey, this is a cause for celebration! I think we have some vodka around here."

He stood up from the couch and crossed the small flat to the kitchen. He grabbed two glasses from the cabinet and grabbed a bottle from the counter. He poured two generous shots and brought them over to the couch.

"Cheers," Matt said, handing one glass to Simon.

[protagonized]

"You're cheering me with my own liquor," Simon pointed out, but he took the glass and downed it gratefully. The liquid courage helped tame the butterflies in his stomach.

"Maybe you're right," he mused, going back to the earlier topic of his mother. "The email says she was fifteen. Maybe she's embarrassed, or she feels guilty for giving me up. At any rate, it was her dad that emailed me. I have a grandfather."

To self-destruct

[falsify]

What an unusual thing to stumble upon in the wee hours of the morning.

Initially, Eames assumes someone's just gotten drunk and been in a particularly nasty fight, and he's content to walk on by, but as he gets nearer to Simon, he realises it's a shapeshifter he's looking at. The blood all around his mouth-- he's been in a fight. Maybe killed? Whatever happened, this kid doesn't look too happy about it, and Eames is curious.

He walks up closer to Simon, affecting a gentle expression, body language open and nonthreatening. "Are you okay?" He asks once he's close enough to speak, voice tinged with concern, "what happened?"

[protagonized]

Simon looks up sharply and curls in on himself like a startled animal. He turns his head, squinting in the dim light for an escape route. Where is he, anyway? He can't remember how he got here.

He can only imagine how bad this looks. He's covered in blood, most of it not his, wearing only a thin cotton robe in near-freezing weather.

"N-nothing," he stammers, teeth chattering in the cold, and he knows it's the lousiest excuse for an excuse that he has.

[falsify]

Nothing? Really? Everyone should be extremely impressed that Eames doesn't just roll his eyes and leave, instead he takes off his jacket to offer it to Simon-- it'll be warmer than just some robe, even if it's probably way too big for him.

He keeps the concern in his voice, careful not to approach Simon. He doesn't want to end up having his hand bitten off or something. "Doesn't look like nothing," he says softly, watching Simon's face for anything that might be useful.

[protagonized]

Simon stares at the jacket like he doesn't quite know what it is. There's still something of the dog about the way he cocks his head slightly to the side, and he would probably be sniffing the stranger out of his nose weren't dripping snot as he continues to cry.

Finally, he takes the coat and drapes it over his shoulders. It doesn't fit very well--he's taller than the other man, and significantly less powerfully-built--but it's warm and that's all that matters.

"I was attacked," he says eventually. "Someone was trying to hurt my mum and dad, so I hurt him back."

[falsify]

Jesus, he hopes this kid doesn't get snot on his jacket.

"Is he..." Eames hesitates on the question, eyebrows raised like he can't bear to finish the thought. Somebody get this man an Oscar. Or a BAFTA at least. He looks Simon up and down and frowns as though looking for the right question to ask. "Are they okay?"

[protagonized]

Simon laughs hollowly. He knows what the man is trying not to ask.

"He's not going to be bothering my family again." Not after Simon's fangs had ripped through his jugular. He grips the jacket tighter, holding it with white knuckles.

"Physically, yes." They'd just seen their son transform into a white dog and kill a man. He doesn't imagine they want to see him ever again after that.

"It was my fault. He was looking for me."