Bridgeport

He hadn't been there before, but as he caught sight of the motorcycle, Fang was almost certain it was the right house. Nice place, peaceful location. A quiet little suburb of Bridgeport, and a great place it seemed, for raising a kid.

Unfortunately, he was about to break that peace with a rather unpleasant request. Hopefully Bob wouldn't mind, but part of him almost wished he'd say no and free him from the promise he'd made to Linette. Not that it'd do him any good long term, he was well aware.

He paused for a last minute cigarette to take his mind off what he was about to ask, and before his mind went back to it, Fang willed himself up the path and knocked on the door.

Cuckoo answered. Bob hadn't really wanted to involve her, but he lacked the ability to open the front door himself. It was something he hadn't considered until they had all started living together: there were so many simple things that he wanted to be able to do as a husband and parent that he couldn't.

"Hi Fang!" Cuckoo giggled, opening the door wide and grabbing him around the waist in a tight hug.

"Cuckoo, you know what we talked about. Not everyone is comfortable with a lot of hugs", Bob said softly, before turning to Fang. "Do come in and sit down, and let me know how I can help. I'm sorry it's a bit of a mess, we're still unpacking."

Rikky is still unpacking, he thought. I'm supervising. As always.

Their small sitting room was slightly spartan, unpacked boxes full of Rikky's paraphernalia (records, ornaments, instruments...) joined by new practical furniture chosen by Bob, his attempt at leaving his mark on their home. Cuckoos presence was best seen by the sheer number of stuffed animals dotted around.

" Can I show him my room?!" Cuckoo said, hopping up and down.

"Later, perhaps", Bob sighed, giving her a warm smile. "You go and play now, Fang and I need to talk alone. No peeking."

"Hey, Cuckoo!" Fang patted her shoulder to return the greeting. "It's all cool, Bob, she's alright."

To him, hugs were not always welcome, but from a select group of people he didn't mind them most of the time. Cuckoo was one of them. He followed Bob into the living room, and managed to find an unoccupied seat.

Fang glanced around at the 'mess.' It was quite charming, really; boxes of fascinating stuff dotted here and there with stuffed shrimp, bats, crocodiles and even what looked like a banana. "Mess? Hey, you should see my place."

His grin was an attempt to break the ice, but came out a little manic. He didn't know why he was bothering anyway, he was well aware Bob would know how nervous he was regardless of how well he managed to hide it.

He waited until Cuckoo had left the room before he started speaking, though he still felt like a thousand eyes were on him. Out of habit, he went into 'casual' mode and slumped back, trying to sound like he wasn't phased at all.

"So, uh. The reason I'm here." He fought the urge to fidget.

"Well, there's a lot of stuff in my past I've never been able to deal with properly. It's affecting my life, I'm hurting people I care about..." He gestured wildly with one hand, as though fending off a persistent wasp.

"I want to start moving on. Well, Linette gave me a kick up the ass, but I do genuinely want to. Thing is, I can't open up to just anybody. But you know mind stuff, right? And I trust you more than I do a lot of people. I was wondering if you'd be able to help me make a start."

Bob was quiet as Fang finished making his request, gradually realising the decision he was going to have to make.

"Let's sit down", he said, waving Fang over to the new sofa and armchairs. It bought him a few more moments to think while they made themselves comfortable.

"I'm very flattered that you trust me, Fang. But in all honesty, my track record with this kind of thing... hasn't been great, lately. Are you completely sure? As much as I hate to admit it, I have so much potential to cause harm..."

"I'm sure." He replied, simply. "I'm not saying I'm not..." He gritted his teeth. "Scared, but You know a lot of stuff other people don't. I dunno, I just felt like you were the best person to ask. Can't get the words out, see."

He shrugged. Bob's words didn't exactly fill him with confidence, but wasn't that similar to what doctors said on TV? "Can't guarantee- Side effects- blah blah blah." All he knew was that sometimes it went alright, sometimes it didn't. It was a risk he figured he'd be up for taking; the alternative involved turning to someone without mind powers which he was sure would take even longer and there weren't that many candidates, besides. Talking to some professional stranger was right out. And Linette... He'd rather explain things to her properly, when he had them a bit more in order.

"If you don't want to do it, I get that. Don't wanna make ya feel trapped in a corner, and I know it's a lot to ask."

"No, I can do it", Bob said firmly, with a reassuring smile. He'd done this kind of thing many times before, hadn't he? He'd stitched Rikky's mind together, he'd exorcised vampires, he'd pulled off the wedding. He was powerful. He was sensible too. His actions with Anna had taught him many lessons and the best thing he could do would be to use them rather than hide away.

"We can do it now, if you'd like. Rikky won't be back for hours, and I'll let Cuckoo know not to disturb us. It would just be a case of lying down, relaxing, and starting from the beginning."

"The beginning?" Fang swallowed. "No, right, no. That's fine. Sounds great."

He hadn't expected to be doing this chronologically, for some reason. He knew he'd have to go through it all eventually, but this way he knew he'd be reaching a lot of the worst rather quickly. Well, what the heck. He'd signed up for this, and best to get it over with. He was grateful Bob had offered to do it then and there.

"Thanks, Bob. I can do that. How do we... start?"

"Well, assuming my new sofa is as comfortable as Rikky assures me it is, why don't you lie down on it and relax. Relax every muscle. Every single one. Feel more relaxed with every breath you take... in and out... in and out..."

Although Bob's spiel had a lot in common with a cheap stage hypnotist, there was clearly something more going on. Drowsiness would envelop Fang almost immediately, light enough that he could shake it off if he wanted, but pleasant enough that he was unlikely to want to.

"We're going to go on a journey together", he continued, "And you're going to be in control. Where would you like to take us? What's been on your mind?"

Fang did just that. Whilst he was initially a little hesitant to close his eyes, the urge to do so grew until he couldn't resist. It certainly was a comfortable sofa. He breathed slowly and as he let down his guard, his mind decided to go straight there.

When he opened his eyes again, a street loomed before him, bright and beautifully maintained, edged with high fences and perfect hedges. At the end of it-

"No." Panic gripped him and the scenery seemed to flicker. Then, as though it had always been so, the street was different. Darker, and more cramped. Cigarette butts and puddles lay stagnating on the ground, and one of them certainly wasn't water. Fang relaxed. This was better.

He was different now too. As a werewolf of eighty five years he usually looked around thirty, but now he seemed several years younger. Skinnier too, and his clothes were even scruffier than usual. The mullet was the same, although it had a suspiciously self-cut appearance. He grinned back at Bob, and pointed.

"That's one of the bars I used to perform at. Didn't pay great, but they let me sleep in the store room when I needed to. That was quite a lot."

He took a couple of steps and looked around. Ahead, a door jutted out, ajar. Light spilled out from inside.

"I know when I am, I think. This'd be right before I first paid a visit to that casino." He continued proudly. "Bought my house soon after. Finding steady employment after that was... Not easy, but I was able to do it."

Bob didn't react much to Fang's change in appearance: it was all pretty arbitrary for him anyway. In a dream-like world he seemed more substantial than usual, more solid. Perhaps it was just that everything else was less solid.

He was very aware of the sudden divergence in location: no matter. Fang would get to facing that whenever he was ready to.

"Hmm, interesting to know that two houses have been partially funded from shenanigans at that casino. It sounds like this wasn't a bad time in your life? We could go inside if you want."

Fang laughed a little. A barking sound. "I guess that's why they were so quick to jump on any weird behaviour. I cheated them out of a lot, see. They caught on eventually, beat me to a pulp. Barely left my house for a month after that, load of bastards."

He was trying to sound nonchalant and doing quite a good job, but the fact he was even saying that said a lot. He thought for a moment about how he probably never would've gone back there had he not been asked to do so as part of a group. Maybe there really was something to what Linette kept going on about. He looked back towards the open door.

"Yeah, sure. Why not."

Fang headed towards the light, and nudged the door open further. Inside was the picture of cleanliness, at least in comparison to outside. It was a little shabby, but warm and full of voices. There was a fire on the far side. It was difficult to tell if it was real or artificial, but either way it dyed the room a bright, cheery orange. The word 'oasis' popped into Fang's mind, so vivid it was almost part of the scenery around them.

"Yeah, all things considered, this was a pretty good time." He began to move forward, looking over his shoulder to see that Bob was following. "I was doing my own thing, and people seemed to be enjoying it. I-"

The words died away. What had seemed to be a bar before them moments before had turned to more streets, the sting of winter in the air. Fang was a little younger once again, wrapped in a thick winter coat. It didn't seem to be doing him much good. It would have perhaps, if its benefit was called upon only on occasion, but this was a cold that had seeped right through to his bones.

"Right. Yeah." He took a breath, and avoided looking Bob in the eye as he wrapped his arms around himself.

"We're not here for that, are we?" A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I've gotta warn you, this goes on for quite a while. I was on the streets for, what..." He scrunched up his nose trying to think, and shivered. "Twenty, twenty five years? I uh, could probably show ya where I used to sleep, and what five star garbage cans I frequented, but I think I'd rather just keep walking. You get the idea."

"I get the idea, yes,", Bob said, his breath billowing around him in the cold air. Unlike Fang he didn't seem to be feeling the cold too badly, and he was still wearing the same scruffy shirt and jacket that he always did. The sandals had transmogrified into boots, however: he did have professional standards.

"I was on the street myself for a number of years. It's not quite the same because my biology is so different, but I know what it is like to be scavenging for food without rest or safety or company. So does Rikky, come to think of it. It's a hard life."

Bob gently laid a hand on Fang's shoulder, giving him an encouraging smile.

"Why don't you show me what happened? Why did you end up alone on the streets? Remember, we're just in your mind. You can leave whenever you want."

Fang went pale, and all expression momentarily vanished. He nodded, and turned to walk down the street. "I know. Thanks."

The years fell away with each step, and the coat morphed on and off to match the changing weather. Occasionally bruises flashed up on his skin and quickly faded to nothing. Beneath their feet, the ground shifted. Concrete. Stone. Grass.

By the time their surroundings could be described as 'train,' Fang looked very different indeed. Younger than Terrence, and much smaller than him. Hunched into himself, his eyes barely leaving the ground. He never once looked up at Bob.

It was clear the passage of time had slowed, and he was well aware of it. He shuffled his feet as he clung to the pole. He was putting it off.

The train pulled in.

With great effort, he tore himself away, and fell straight through the doors into a bush. He was still for a moment, then slowly drew himself up to a crouching position, hugging his knees to himself, his backpack pressing into the leaves. From the darkness, a park materialised around them. On the horizon, it. The house, like a waiting vulture. Fang's body shook with sobs he didn't dare let out.

"If we keep going, I'm gonna end up back there." His voice was barely audible, but it didn't matter. "I don't know if I can do it. I can't. I can't go back there."

"Ok, let's take a time out" Bob said firmly, struggling not to get caught up in the pounding waves of anxiety that Fang was emitting. With a flick of his wrist the dark parkland, the house and everything else streamed away like water going down a plug hole. Although this would be deeply disturbing if it happened in the waking world, there was something soothing about it.

Fang was now in blank, white space, entirely quiet, entirely still. In his hands was a photograph of the scene he had just experienced: himself, the street, the house.

"Listen, you don't have to do this right now. It's a big thing. But I think that when you're ready, you will be able to do it. And I'll be right there, I won't leave you. What do you want to do? You can go back inside the picture when you want to."

The feeling was a lot like stepping into a warm bath on a cold day. Lights off, silence. It was all gone, and Fang was now acutely aware of what he 'looked' like. He stood, his breathing returning to normal, and wiped his face roughly with a sleeve.

"Fuck. Well. That was a lot."

He stood there for a moment as he calmed down, not sure what to do. Time passed. It could have been seconds, minutes, longer. It didn't matter- time meant very little inside his own mind.

Fang looked up, the picture crinkling slightly in his hand. His eyes met Bob's, and a small smile flickered, just briefly.

"It already happened. This is stuff I was already feeling, even if I didn't know about it. There's nothing... 'Real' to be scared of anymore."

He took strength from the words, and in some ways felt them to be true. In others, they were complete nonsense. If there was nothing to fear, he wouldn't be afraid. But to forget that, just for a moment made him feel better. He sighed.

"I've gotta finish what I started, even if I don't want to. I'll be okay. That's why we're doing this."

It wasn't that he was in much of a better mood, but he was resigned, and with new resolve. "I'm grateful for all this, bud. and I'm really sorry for what you're about to see."

"Hey. It's ok. I've seen a lot, believe me," Bob said with a sad smile. He drew close to Fang but stopped just short of touching him. Instead he touched the image in the picture. It began to take solid form around them, building up in layers like a watercolour painting.

"I'm going to be right with you. Even if you feel you have to face this again, it won't be the same as before, because i'll be right here."

The return of the scene around them had it's upside; if it hadn't happened just then, Fang had a feeling he might've cried. The amount of positive emotion he felt towards him at that point was more than he could remember feeling at once, and it made him feel very vulnerable. He tried his best to push it from his mind. Working out the state of his pride could wait- it would not help now.

Instead of walking, this time Fang began to float through the air at a rapid pace. No, the scenery rushed past him, forcing him back to the house, over the gate, and as he shifted to wolf form, through an open window. He fell, for a few fleeting seconds through a void of black. Then he landed in a heap as a paw came down on his throat.

A rush of fur, a yelp. Teeth that bit down again and again. The memory was less clear than the rest, rendered almost abstract by pain, despair and sheer panic. Words floated through the air- not synced with what was happening- from a humiliated wolf taking it out on the son who could never hope to live up to his impossible expectations.

That was over complicating it, really. Fang was weak, and Duffy was stronger.

The smaller wolf scrabbled to get to his feet, to get away, even by just a few inches in the reprieve granted by his father's transformation. There was one last shriek as Fang was booted roughly in the direction of the stairs, and then no noise at all but rough and ragged breathing he tried desperately to conceal as he scrambled upwards.

The door of his room shut behind him and he leapt onto the bed, his eyes looking wildly around the room for Bob. It was only after finding him he relaxed enough to lie down. Even so, 'relaxed' was hardly the correct word to describe him.

"I'm sorry", Bob said quietly, going to sit on the end of Fang's bed. He was visible shaken, disturbed by the idea that when this happened for real, Fang had no escape. No friend waiting for him. No respite.

"This is why I'm not sure I'm much good at this business, not yet, anyway. A proper therapist might be able to make some sense of it. Give you ways to move on. I just don't know. You were hurt so much, no wonder it's been hard for you."

He fell silent, letting the sudden quiet after the frenzy wash over both of them.

"I feel love,", Bob said suddenly, "I feel it when it's directed at me, but I feel it when it's directed at others, too. Sometimes I long to have senses like you do, to smell and hear and taste, but I pity you in a way for not feeling the love of others even when it is there. To have to get partial glimpses of it in conversation and action. Would you... would you let me try to show you how loved you are, Fang?"

The wolf on the bed cocked his head slightly. He'd known this was never going to be a pleasant experience, but it was still awful to see how the memory had affected Bob.

Fang had come to him looking for the help of a friend, not a therapist. There was no need for him to apologise, or doubt the adequacy of what he'd been able to offer, and he hoped to explain later how significant this was. The first step of many, perhaps.

"I don't know either, it's fine. This is... Good." He replied quietly and a little awkwardly, in the wolf language Bob would nontheless understand.

Sometimes Fang suspected he 'felt the love of others' even less than other people could. He was almost certain of it to be honest, it was all too easy to overlook things, or assume people were being polite, or had some kind of ulterior motive. When confronted with evidence of that, he tended to believe it.

Curious, the wolf shifted to a sitting position, his paws making little dents in the sheets. He nodded cautiously.

"Right", Bob said with determination. "Let's leave this place, then. I'm going to try to show you the world how I experience it. I've never done this before, not even for Rikky, but perhaps it will help."

And with that, the physical world suddenly ceased to exist for Fang. He had no body, wolfish or otherwise. He was in a place without space, without sensation, without light or dark or sound or smell.

"Oh... sorry," Bob's voice sounded in his head, piercing in the silence. Something to latch on to. "I didn't think about how disconcerting it would be to lose your senses. But don't worry, there are things to feel here, you just need to adjust. Do you feel a faint tingling? Lots of tinglings. Lots of other worlds you could enter, each one beautiful and complex and messy."

Bob was correct, there was sensation available with a bit of concentration, growing stronger by the second. The minds of others.