Chapter Text
One of the tourists is found—well, parts of him—scattered all around the forest surrounding the small town of Forks. Next to him, his girlfriend was found chained at the bottom of a ravine, dirty and starving. She was mad, raving about monsters and men, men, men who watched her but would not free her. (Not men—monsters, devils and angels.) A tip had been called in, the caller’s voice muffled and clipped, with her exact location. The call had been untraceable; they don’t have that kind of technology in towns like this, and it’s a miracle it wasn’t a particularly windy or rainy day because the call would have not gone through in the first place.
Andras hasn’t slept.
No one in the department has and Andras has strongly considered calling in back up from nearby police departments and even help from the bigger city of Port Angeles, but those guys are dicks. The Kalakoch guys are much better to have around, and maybe that’s what they really need. Bron’s a great detective and Hart knows these forests like the back of his hand; what they need is emotional support because shit has been grim. Not a single joke has been cracked. It’s not right to, anyway. Things only got worse when Alis collapsed, overworked from fielding questions from the media, both local and from surrounding towns, as well as trying to calm every soul in town. Alis is great at her job, but she’s only human, and Andras takes the blame for that.
He shows up to the hospital with hot food from the diner, and plastic flowers from the general store. (Flowers are out of season this time of year, and he doesn’t want to give Alis more work in caring for those too.) Andras pulls off his sheriff’s tuque and kicks his boots off at the door before entering the small building. Not a single part of him is thinking about the handsome Dr. Johan Wolfe, not even the part of himself patting himself on the back for not making this impromptu trip about his chronic singleness. They haven’t had a chance to talk since that day together, and honestly, Andras hadn’t noticed that Johan didn’t make good on his desire to call him ‘to hear his voice’.
“Hey,” Andras knocks on the door of Alis’ room. Her eyes light up when she recognizes the brown bag of Paul’s food. “You’re only here for exhaustion, right? You can have this?”
She makes grabby hands. “Gimme, gimme. Don’t make me come and get it.”
Andras laughs. He absolutely believes she will, so he quickly makes his way to her side. He apologizes to her while she dives into her burger, sincere but grateful that she’s mildly distracted. The last thing he needs is for her to call him out on his guilt, but she does it anyway.
“You can’t protect me from everything. The only difference would be you in this bed instead of me if you tried to do everything, Andy.” She takes a big bite of her burger and chews before adding to her thoughts. “You’ve only got one bad bone in your body, and that’s how damn self-sacrificing you are. You can’t do everything yourself, and Forks needs you well and working. When was the last time you slept?”
Andras squints. “Kiera call you?”
“Maybe. What if she did?”
He sighs, leaning back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose. Ever since the body was discovered, and the one rescue, Kiera has been hounding Andras about helping at the police station. People are scared, she had told him, but what is a seventeen year old going to do to reassure people? He doesn’t want her accidentally seeing crime scene photos or overhearing the horrifying details. Bron has played that damn recording of the survivor’s account over and over again, it’s drilled into Andras’ brain. He knows every beat thanks to the thin walls between their offices. Plus, what is she gonna do when they’re all out patrolling and she has to lock up? No way in hell.
“I’m just saying, you can lean on others for support. Not just the ones you pay to do their jobs.”
He sighs again, dramatic as ever. “I’ve got it handled.”
“Yeah? Those dark circles say otherwise. What’s Dr. Handsome gonna say when he sees you?”
“He’s here?” Andras sits up straighter.
“This is a hospital, the most likely place to find a doctor.”
“Ha, ha, very funny, Alis.” He pauses. “Is Johan in today?”
“Yes, your crush is here.”
“Hey! What? No!” But his face is already turning red.
“Mhm,” Alis hums. “You should go see him anyway, he has an idea that might help with the workload of small town paranoia.”
“Later. I came here to see you, so I’m gonna sit with you a little longer.”
“Alright, but don’t take too long, now. Dr. Wolfe has been here all day and last night, he should be heading home soon. Plus, he’s been asking about you. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you.”
“He asked about me?”
So, why didn’t he call?
***
Each step towards Johan’s office makes his heart beat louder, more with anticipation than nerves. Andras has no expectations, all they did was go out on a tour of the town. He’s not some silly teen who thinks one day together means they are together. A small nagging voice in the back of his mind picks out the meaningful moments of that day, stubbornly making little somethings out of what should be nothing. The absence of a call should be everything Andras needs to know.
The doctor’s office is open just a sliver. He hopes he isn’t interrupting an examination, so he knocks softly.
“Come in,” comes Johan’s smooth, cool voice.
Andras pushes the door open, and his eyes widen. “Oh, shit, fuck! Sorry! I should’ve waited.”
Before him, and before he started staring fixated at the ground, Andras had walked in on Johan with his shirt unbuttoned, revealing a perfectly muscular chest with nearly trimmed dark hair. It was just a second, but Andras is good at picking up important information details with a glance. It’s not his fault.
“You’re apologizing for following my instructions? Interesting.” Johan huffs. “If I minded, I would have not invited you in.” He says, only managing to button up half the buttons.
Andras swallows hard. He glances at the desk and notices a dark metal arm and its silicone skin peeled off. Is that why his touch is so cold? He hadn’t noticed Johan’s prosthetic arm. Maybe he isn’t as good of a cop as he thought. “Do you need help?”
He knows it’s a bad idea. His stomach flutters, still thinking about how perfect Johan is not only in face, humour and profession, but in body too? He doesn’t even like men… does he?
“I should be asking you that. You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
“I’m fine.” If they were closer, Andras would make a joke about being the one with two arms, but they’re not, so he silently scolds himself for being so stupid, and swallows the thought back down.
“How about a compromise? You have a seat,” he motions at the three-seater sofa in the corner of his office next to bookshelves and a coffee table. “And I finish massaging my shoulder. That will help me greatly,” he pauses and smiles. “Unless… you’re uncomfortable.”
“What? Who? Me? I’m comfortable. Don’t even worry about it.”
Johan cocks a brow. “Very believable.”
“No, your prosthetic is one of the coolest I’ve seen.”
“I meant more me being in a certain state of undress. How unprofessional on my part,” he deadpans.
“Oh. No, that’s fine too.” Andras slides over to Johan’s couch, taking a seat and groans. “Oh, wow.”
“Comfortable?”
“Yeah.”
He tries his best to sit straight, but he just sinks into the cushion and gets boneless. The couch feels like a hug on his sore and aching body. Andras didn’t realize how long he’s been on his feet, or in his truck, or at his desk. He misses his bed, but he’s pretty sure this couch is more comfortable. His eyes start to grow heavy, but Johan’s movement pulls his attention over to him. Oh, and suddenly, he’s awake and paying attention.
The doctor is wearing a pale blue shirt today, the same shade as his irises. His gaze seems even brighter because of it. Johan’s hand makes quick work of the few buttons, much easier to undo than to pinch closed. God, his body. Andras knows he’s being wildly inappropriate, but even despite his personal attraction to the man, he is a specimen. Even seated, his abs are perfectly sculpted. The few scars he picks out only serve to make Johan more mysterious and they do something to Andras. The worst of the scarring is at Johan’s shoulder where the prosthetic would attach. The way Johan slips his shirt off his shoulder has Andras (inadvertently) crossing his legs. It’s—It’s terribly sensual. Andras knows he doesn’t mean to, but his body’s reacting of its own accord.
Johan doesn’t bother with ointment, he just presses the pads of his fingers into the skin around the metal disc embedded in his skin. He utters a low groan, and Andras desperately starts to chew on the inside of his lip.
He’s a friend. You just met him. You are fucked up for this, Andras, he swears at himself. Balling his fists, Andras revels in the feeling of his clipped nails digging into his palm. He focuses on that and stares at the table. The guy’s hurt and you’re getting off on this? What the fuck?
“Alis mentioned you wanted to speak to me. You had an idea or something?” Andras says quickly, cutting through the self-imposed tension of the moment.
“Hmm,” Johan says, leaning back and basking in his relief, still massaging his shoulder. “Yes. I was thinking we could offer the hospital as a shelter for those who are afraid of… For those who are afraid.”
The easiest explanation for what happened would have been to say that it was an animal that killed the tourist, but animals don’t waste meat like that and they certainly don’t tear people into pieces and scatter them. Andras has been reluctant to declare anything because that will make people panic. Animals are easier to run from. Monsters that wear human faces? No, the people’s fear will get them before any killer does.
“You must be getting calls asking for patrols all across town at the slightest shadow, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Andras says looking up at him. “Wouldn’t that mean extra work for everyone here?”
Johan purses his lips and shakes his head. “Not if everyone helps each other out. We’re short-staffed, it would be nice to have some volunteers in exchange for peace of mind. Animal or murderer, the culprit is less likely to strike in a big crowd anyway. And it would give Kiera something to do. She can field calls from right here.”
“How… How’d you know about Kiera?”
“Oh, I was with Alis when she came to visit.”
There are times, like this one, where Andras feels so out of touch with his daughter. He’d like to blame the murder and the kidnapping, but it’s no one’s fault. All he’d done was say ‘no’ and leave it at that. Johan probably listened to her and found a compromise. He frowns and looks at his hands.
“I’m not being entirely selfless,” Johan suddenly admits. “Lambert never wants anything to do with helping me out. I thought maybe having Kiera around would inspire him to do something nice.”
“They… like each other?” The last time he saw them together, they were at each other’s throats.
Johan says something in another language, huffing in that familiar sound of amusement. Andras wonders what he’d sound like if he ever properly laughed. “It means we tease those we love the most. Lambert’s teeth are just sharper than most,” he finally translates.
Andras laughs. “Does he get that from you?”
Johan holds his gaze and smiles again. “No. I am much worse.”
It should have been a warning, but Andras takes it as an invitation. He’s too damn curious and stubborn not to spend more time with Johan. He wants to know what that means, and he wants to know more about him in general. It’s all for selfish reasons. A part of him still wants to lay claim to this handsome man, to preen like a tactless child in the face of everyone else in town because Johan chooses to spend time with him. The other part of him, much worse than his immature side, feels like he’s discovering himself through Johan and not just about the—the—uh, attraction. He sees the type of father Johan is little by little, and contrasts with the type of father he wants to be for Kiera.
(Honestly, he’s relieved she isn’t as difficult as Lambert seems to be.)
Above all that, Andras likes talking to Johan. It’s like being with his boys back at the station, but… different. Andras finds himself wanting to make an effort to see him. He’s gotten complacent, too used to people barging into his life.
Somewhere between their idle chatting, Andras falls asleep. He doesn’t mean to, and would stop himself if he could, but he’s so damn comfortable. When he wakes, Johan is still there, dressed and armed, working on some paperwork.
“Shoot, I fell asleep.” He hopes he didn’t drool on Johan’s pillows.
“That’s what the couch is for.” Johan turns on his chair. “You look refreshed. Good.”
“Did I keep you?” Andras rubs his eyes, and stifles a yawn.
“Can’t think of anywhere else I need to be.”
***
It’s late when Andras gets back home. He started taking the long way home, purposely driving around the forest’s edge no matter how unsettling it is at night. Everything in his body tells him to stay away. Even from the safety of the car, Andras feels watched, but he does it anyway. He does it because people are scared and on the off chance that he might apprehend the killer.
His modest house is dark. He’s done a good job with the upkeep, too much of a stickler when it comes to duty and routine to really let anything go. Andras quietly slips his key into the lock and enters. He keeps his steps light, knowing the exact floorboards that creak the loudest so as not to wake Kiera. Andras considers grabbing a late night snack, but Johan had offered an emergency granola bar he keeps in the desk for the nurses, and decides against it.
Slowly, he heads upstairs and opens the door to Kiera’s room. It’s an old habit from when she was young. Andras worries about her just as much as he did when she was an infant, so he’d get up just to watch her sleep and makes sure she’s—
Not in her bed.
The feeling in his hands vanishes, and his stomach drops. He’s going to be sick. He dials her number. No answer. Again. Still no answer. Oh god, oh god, what if someone took her? He could call a search party, but on the off chance that she’s just with a friend, he’ll look like an idiot. He doesn’t know who her friends are. Kiera doesn’t share that with him anymore. The only person he can think of is…
Andras dials Johan’s number.