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There was a spray of seafoam as the little ferry lurched over the crest of another wave. Most of the passengers were wisely staying below decks, but one gripped tight to the railings, looked out over the water and and embraced the saltwater soaking.

The fresh sea air, the bracing cold and the call of adventure left him feeling more alive than he had in a while, which was surprising. Marko Negrelli was dead, after all.

“Nonno!”

A young man with tussled, tawny hair came up alongside Marko, keeping a white-knuckled grip on the railings. Unlike the ghoul, he didn’t fancy his chances if he fell in.

“... Gio?!” Marko squinted. “Gio, my boy! What the blazes are you doing here? I thought you were off camping in Yellowstone.”

“I was, but my mother called saying you’d suddenly left Bridgeport. She read me the letter you left. I thought I’d track you down. After all, I don’t have anything better to do.”

“I’m sure you do”, Marko said darkly, before giving the young man a hefty pat on the back. “I’m fine. Really. It was just time to set off for somewhere new. It was already difficult living in that house, so many reminders. And then people started harassing your mother and father about me. Starting fresh with other people like me, seems like a good idea, hmm?”

“I guess”, Gio shrugged, “But they’re really going to miss you. They’re going to be worried all the time, wondering if you're ok.”

“Ah. I suppose you know that first hand?” Marko grinned. Gio stared down into the swirling waters beneath the boat and sighed.

“I call them as often as I can."

"I know, I know", Marko said, as softly as his booming voice allowed. "They're just being parents. It's their job to be worried. They're just concerned that you're drifting. Tell you what, why don't you stay with me for a while when we get to Clearwater? I'm going to need some help settling in, and it'll probably earn you some parental brownie points."

"Alright. For a little while."

"Good lad", Marko grinned.

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Below deck in a tiny cabin, a man paced back and forth, traces of agitation showing through a stoic front. He'd had no sleep. In his arms was a chubby, white puppy stuffed into a blue dress, two white socks on her hind feet. The puppy squirmed, and Fang winced as a paw found his ribs. She was getting too big for this.

"Clover, kiddo, you've gotta transform. We'll be there soon, and you can't be a dog all the time."

The puppy shook her head and stuck out a defiant tongue. Fang suppressed a sigh. It was impossible. Clover always refused to transform when she was nervous, and he knew his own emotions weren't helping. Were dogs could be sensitive like that.

In the worst moments, he wondered if there would ever be more than this, running afraid from whoever had the power. First his birth pack, now the humans. He'd thought he'd found stability before, now he feared he never would. He shifted his daughter's weight to stop her slipping, and began to sing one of the old songs she loved, as much to calm himself as her.

"We always seem so much braver than we ever are-"

His mind began to wander, and it was only when he felt a soft thump against his chest he returned to himself.

"...Some are near and some are far-"

Fang felt a lump in his throat when he looked down to see her, eyes closed and peaceful. This. This was the reason for everything. He didn't know if, or for how long everything would work out, but he had to keep Clover safe. His family- the little he had- was everything, and he couldn't let himself have doubts now. Soon, they would be somewhere new. And for the very first time, the four of them would truly be free. He should be excited.

"...To make us braver than we are."

He stopped pacing and hugged her close, barely noticing the soft shadow in the door.

Terrence smiled. twenty years and countless scars later, he'd matured, but never truly lost his optimism. He'd never been one to expect the worst, and he wasn't about to start now. Everything bad that had happened had only served to lead them here. This was where they were meant to be.

The shadow faded as he turned to avoid disturbing them: his partner, the sleeping puppy, and the quiet song.

"Why should we cry if we can't be what we might've been?
No question why we should let the future now begin"
A tall, shrouded figure hung back in the shadows until the sunset turned a deep shade of red and purple. When the long shadows spread out behind it in the dying light- only then did he move from his perch and enter the ferry's little luggage area.

He was looking for a box- a big box, latched shut by a heavy silver plated chain. Dimitrius often felt awkward wearing such thick leather gloves in the warmer months, but he was glad for them here. The box was open.

"You can come out now."

Jules glared at him from within the packaging. He was folded up tightly, arms crossed over his chest, looking none to pleased for his accommodations.

"About fucking time."

"Better than getting relocated in an urn." Dimitri shrugged.

"Easy for you to say, Mr. Five star first class ticket. I didn't even wanna come."

Dimitri sighed. "Yeah, I get it. I miss Bridgeport too Uncle Jules." He held out a helpful claw and pulled Jules out of the crate.

"Its nice here, though. I mean, people at least understand you here. You don't need to hide like back home."

Home. Now that was a big word. A big piece to just leave behind.

"Besides..." Dimitri continued. "You're technically supposed to be under arrest right now."

Jules grumbled under his breath but finally made it to the deck to look out over the sea.

"I could just fly back." He said to his ersatz nephew.

"Oh no you couldn't." Dimitri said with a grin, and rested a heavy claw on Jules' shoulder. A friendly warning.

Jules glanced back at him somewhat timidly but quickly shrugged off the unwanted touch. "I liked you better when you were short, kid."

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