A Few Goodbyes: Jackson Leaves for London
In the dead of night, Jackson pulled over to the side of the road. In the morning, he and his parents would be leaving. That morning he’d spent with Derek, proving that once again, he wasn’t going to tear someone apart just because they pissed him off. Just barely. He could feel it, every time he got angry. Just under the surface. That desire to just let loose and be rid of the irritation before him. But if McCall could do it, hell if Lahey could do it, he was going to not only manage it, but be better than they were. He left their training grounds--the old warehouse that Derek used so often--with a snide remark and a good riddance. But part of him wanted to stay there. He was old enough, that he could challenge his parent’s decision to take him. He’d told Derek on no uncertain terms would he join the pack. But now faced with becoming an omega, with being truly on his own with no one to help--NO! He was going to do this on his own. He didn’t NEED a pack, nor did he want one. He didn’t care about the stupid titles that everyone else gave themselves. A lone wolf was stronger than any who relied on a pack.
But then he paid his final visit to Lydia. They had dinner together for the last time, just the two of them. She never said it, and tried to hide it. But she was worried. Afraid. They’d never said it aloud, never agreed on it, but she was it. His anchor. The thing that kept him from giving in. That kept him human. That made him strong enough to fight it, that urge to maim and kill. Without her, could he make it? Could he keep it together? It wasn’t until that moment, in the dark on the deserted road, did he even consider it. Even when he tried to remove her from his life, to move onto what he thought were bigger and better things, did he fully grasp what his life would be without her presence. It had been her that brought her back, and her alone. He didn’t have the strength inside himself to do it. Others tried to tell him what he’d become, what he was doing. And even then, he couldn’t hope to stop it.
His fingers gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. She’d brought him back. The way she felt for him… He pressed his forehead to his hands, and took several, slow breaths. He could still smell her. In his clothes. In his car. Eyes closed, he tried to memorize it. Embed it so deep in his memory that it would never leave him. Even as he felt his cheeks dampen, he just focused on that sense of her. She was the one bright spot in the nightmare of the last few months. And that alone would carry him through, until he could stand on his own. It had to.
Reluctantly, he sat up straight. There was still one last thing he had to do. He could not leave until he could face it. Another slow, deep breath, his teeth clenched tight.
Before he could rethink this, he pushed the door open and stepped out of the car. Just ahead, he could see the bridge. A chill passed through him that had nothing to do with the breeze that rustled the trees that lined the road.
This is where it happened. He had no conscious memory of it, but he didn’t need to remember. Knowing was bad enough. This is where Gerard drowned Matt. Where Jackson, as the kanima, watched from the shadows, from under that very bridge.
Feeling a knot building in the pit of his stomach, he rounded the car and headed down the small embankment. Through the leaves that covered the ground, the edge of the shallow water. There was no sign of what had passed, mere weeks before. But still, anger and fear clawed at him in equal measure. Someone had controlled him. Had commanded him. Forced him. As he stared down at his own reflection, his lip curling in disgust, he could see the blue of his eyes. Vibrant and glowing in the dim light.
“I got what I wanted,” he said to the reflection, his voice tight. “I. Won.” His tone grew unsteady. Forcing his teeth together, he tried to calm himself. To prove he was better than this. “You tried to take it all from me,” he pointed at the water, as if the body were still there. “You hid it from me. You could have TOLD me. You knew. Before anyone else, you knew what was happening to me!” His tone grew more aggressive, his volume increasing. “You sat there, with that smug little expression, and all along you KNEW!” He turned away from the water, taking a slow breath.
In a sudden burst of rage, he picked up a large stone from near his feet and hurled it at the water. It splashed, harmlessly, the ripples creating small waves that lapped at his shoes.
“IT WAS ALL YOUR FAULT!” He roared at his distorted reflection.
Only when the surface stilled again did he see himself. It wasn’t only the ripples that had distorted his face. Staggering back from the image of his own transformed face, he it recede under the icy touch of fear. “You ruined everything,” he said, much more quietly. “And I hope you rot in hell.”
The way he saw it, because of what Matt forced him to do, he’d been exposed. The last people he wanted to know his secrets now held them all. About how he came into this world. About what lay behind the face everyone saw. Of all people, Scott and Stiles knew.
As he made his way back to the car, he didn’t feel any form of closure. But that’s not why he came here. He needed a reminder. As much as he felt he couldn’t leave Lydia behind, it was necessary. He needed a new start. Everywhere he turned, there seemed to be reminders. He saw pity in the faces of people who should hate him. Whether or not it was actually there, he still saw it. The empty house across the street, the catalyst for it all. Even his own school. The pool where he spent so much time. The lacrosse field. The locker room. Even the people he encountered. Constant reminders of what happened. He needed to leave it all behind and go somewhere no one would ever know.
If only he knew that he would always carry a mark of his deeds with him.
The next morning, as his parents loaded their suitcases into the cab, he pulled out his phone and dialed Lydia's number. No answer. She was probably in school. He put on his most convincing arrogant tone. "Hey, Lydia. We’re about to head to the airport. Wish you could go with us, British girls have nothing on you. Oh, and now that you’re technically unattached, watch out for Stiles. He might start humping your leg if you’re not careful. I’ll try to catch you at our first layover." He hung up, but for a moment, he just looked down at the phone, half expecting her to call back immediately.
All through the cab ride, through the airport wait and even on the plane, he checked his phone. He traded a few texts with Danny, but always kept an eye for her call. By the time they were asked to turn off their devices, still nothing. And he had no choice.
They landed in New York. They had two hours before their connecting flight started boarding. While his parents took care of making sure their passports were in order, he tried her again. Still no answer. It was late now, perhaps she was in bed. "Hey. Lyds. We’re not even out of the country yet, and I’m already bored out of my mind. Got some ideas on what would make it MUCH better. But that would mean you’d need to be here. Try you again later."
The time ticked by, and there was still no response. There was even a text from Stiles, but nothing from Lydia. So he tried again. And again no answer. "About to board the plane to London. Forgot to ask if flying would have any effect on--" He glanced over at his parents. Out of earshot, but who else around could hear him? "Guess it’ll be a regular American Werewolf in London thing, huh? Maybe I’ll catch you after we land."
The flight was grueling. At least on him. Worse than from California to New York. Were they higher? Was the cabin pressure different? He felt restless. Every time he started to feel he could settle down, his mind started going over what he was leaving behind. The events that happened. And he became aware of just how uncomfortable everything was again.
They landed, at last, in London. He left his parents to collect their luggage, with the lame excuse of needing to stretch his legs. He found a place where he could be alone, a quiet alcove. He pulled out his phone. A handful of text messages from random friends wishing him well on his journey. A few from Danny. Even a voicemail from his coach. But no Lydia. Without thinking, he called her again. And again, no answer.
This time, it took some effort to find his voice. She was so far away, and she couldn't even talk to her. "...I don’t know if I can do this without you." It took a few more breaths before he could speak again. "Lydia, I..." He wanted to say it. With every fiber, he wanted to utter those three simple words that said all he felt about her. But his throat closed up around them, refused to let them out. "...I miss you." Was all he managed. He ended the call and just stared down at it.
"Jackson?!" He heard his mom calling from where he'd left them.
Straightening up, he quickly wiped at his cheeks, erasing the signs of what the upset. "Over here!" he called back. "Just making sure Danny's gonna be able to carry the team without a competent team captain," he offered with a smirk. As he took his suitcase from her, he could see the concern in her face, but before she could speak, he said "Let's get out of here. Did you ever check to see if my new school has a lacrosse team?"
He walked with his parents out of the airport, headed for what would be their new home.
A new start. One that he didn't know if he was ready for.
