The lamplight caught Ned’s shining eyes, and he grabbed the wooden panels, attempting to shut them, as if he couldn’t see that he’d never fit his large form someplace this small. Still, like a slug that had long outgrown its shell, Ned wouldn’t stop trying, no matter how violently his limbs shook from the cold.
“Why am I still here?” Ned whined, clutching the old doors for dear life, but when Cole left the lamp on a side table by the entrance and opened the cupboard, their captive didn’t fight him—a grown man reduced to a shivering mess. Damp streaks on Ned’s cheeks reflected the light as his green eyes widened, and he tried to pull up his legs to crawl into the narrow space that already made him bend into a hunched form. His breath wheezed between clattering teeth, and he made a sharp gesture toward the open door.
“Behind you! He’s behind you!”
Cole looked back, certain Lars had crept up on him to see what Ned was up to, but his friend still sat in the chair by the fire, and there was nothing behind Cole but air.
A dull pulsing awoke in Cole’s temples as he faced Ned again, stepping into the room, which now felt as cold as any food storage should. “What do you see?”
“The man. He’s still there,” Ned babbled attempting to hide his face. “If I only… hide in here…”
There was no way in hell he’d fit in the cupboard, but it seemed that Ned had lost the ability to think straight after Cole and Lars stopped feeding him liquor.
Back when Cole had still ridden with the Gotham boys, Tom had tied Scotch to the wheel of a wagon in an effort to curb his addiction. Unable to fetch himself a bottle, Scotch had temporarily lost his mind and claimed he was being attacked by swarms of mice. No one else had seen a thing, but the old bastard’s fear had been as real as the air he breathed.
The things Ned was seeing seemed even viler in nature, and no matter how much resentment Cole held for him, memories of their time together triggered tender feelings. This was still the same man Cole had once planned a future with, and seeing him so frantic and dirty, hurt the scrap of humanity Cole still had left in him.
“There’s no one here but you, me, and Lars. You’re seeing things because you stopped drinking. It’ll pass.”
“It won’t pass, he’ll always be here,” Ned sobbed and rubbed his face against his forearm, shaking like a dry leaf about to fall off a tree.
“You were supposed to make him shut up!” Lars yelled from the main room, but as Cole’s eyes became more used to darkness, he took in the pathetic way Ned cowered under a thin blanket that made up his protection from the cold already taking hold of his body.
If he stayed there, he’d inevitably develop pneumonia. Or freeze to death. Such things weren’t unheard of.
“Ned, come here,” he whispered as loudly as his tightened throat allowed
“Can’t leave. I was told to stay.” Ned shook his head without looking up. He seemed both stronger than he used to be and more fragile. Abusing him now would have been like torturing a wolf that had just lost two of its legs and was already bleeding.
But no matter how solid Ned’s muscles seemed under grubby clothes, Cole was strong too, and nothing would stop him once he made up his mind. The part of him that recoiled in sadness when he grabbed Ned’s fingers and found them cold as icicles? He ignored it and stared at the shadowed face while his heart rattled with unexpected tenderness. “I’m telling you, you can. Come on. Let’s get you warm.”
Nothing changed in his opinion of Ned O’Leary, but he couldn’t bring himself to watch this wreck of a man suffer needlessly. Ned would have to atone for what he’d done, but only once he was sober and understood why he was being put through the wringer. Right now, the cruelty was for nothing.
“Are you sure it’s safe to come out?” Ned asked, glancing somewhere over Cole’s shoulder, but crawled out of the cupboard when Cole encouraged him with a gesture. “I don’t feel so well,” he mumbled, and as he came closer to light, it revealed the gray shade of his complexion.
Back in the room, Lars poured more water into the tub. “He’ll just stink up the place.”
Cole swallowed when Ned tried to pull apart his tied wrists, reminding him that his past lover was now their captive. Still, Ned pushed into Cole’s arms with trust that had no place in their current relationship, cold and defenseless like an animal who was bleeding out its body heat.
“I should wash him anyway. We can heat more water tomorrow,” Cole said, more confident about this decision with every breath he took.
Lars stared at Cole in stunned silence. “Wash him? Use up our water?”
Cole sighed, squeezing his arms around Ned when his body shook with a violent tremor. While Cole’s intuition had deceived him in the past so badly, he couldn’t bring himself to ignore the human impulse to take care of this pathetic drunk who used to mean so much to him.
“We’ll just melt more snow. It’s no big deal,” Cole said, and put his hand over Ned’s eyes when he tried to retreat to the cupboard, scared of something that didn't exist—maybe the real Wolfman, maybe some other terror. What mattered was that the threat wasn’t real.
The deep scowl didn’t do Lars’s handsome face any favors. Ideally, Cole would have had him leave for a week or two and not deal with his tantrums and never-ending demands for attention. Too bad they were stuck together in this godforsaken wilderness.
Lars dropped the empty pot to the floor. “I’m going to sleep, don’t want to witness this bull—”
Ned howled from the depths of his guts, trying to retreat into the pantry. “Please… no more, let me rest,” he whined, shaking his head.
Cole exhaled and guided Ned toward the tub, which stood close to the fire so the person inside wouldn’t have to freeze in places that stuck out from under the water. “I’ll draw a bath for you first thing in the morning. Goodnight, Lars,” he said, deciding he’d just act as if this was no big deal.
Because it wasn’t. One ought to have compassion for those on the brink of losing their minds, even for Ned O’Leary.
“Don’t wake me up when you come in!” Lars slammed the bedroom door behind him, leaving Cole with the uneven tune of Ned’s clattering teeth.
Cole exhaled and shut his eyes, trying to focus on the scent of burning wood and the pleasant crackle of the fire, but he couldn’t escape his reality for long and looked at Ned. His face hadn’t been cleaned of blood since Cole had punched him yesterday, but that was the least of Ned’s problems once Lars stopped keeping him on small yet steady trickle of booze.
“Will you be good if I unfasten your hands for this? You know I’m faster than you. And stronger too,” Cole said when he realized he’d have to cut Ned’s clothes off him otherwise. They were rags, but still wearable.
Ned stared down at the bindings on his wrists, but nodded eventually, blinking while his mouth went slack behind the overgrown beard.
The warm glow of the fireplace couldn’t make his sweaty skin appear any healthier. So pale its shade bordered on green, puffy around red eyes, it betrayed the terrible shape he’d gotten himself into. The man might be a liar, but there was no way for him to fake this.
Cole pulled out his knife and cut through the rope, revealing pale lines left on the wrists from being bound for so long, and guilt squeezed around his stomach, but he knew better than to express it and spoke in the same, even tone. “Now undress.”