[ Things are strange when he wakes up, and Isaac pinpoints the differences when he comes to without a tube stuck down and deep into his throat.
He wakes and the smells are different — old, softer, buzzing with a kind of electricity that doesn't come from the wires and pipes that run through the Tranquility. His skin is dry, no longer touched by the cold of capsulized liquids, his his throat clean of the ache he's become used to over the months of his stay on the ship, but the inside of his bones feel drenched with a weariness that he doesn't want to name. He feels so tired, tired of lying to Derek, of keeping secrets from Josh and Tyler and Jenna, feels stretched to the brink that the pack that is his home is being picked apart by the things they all choose not to tell each other - some of which are secrets that he owns, and which leaves bitter grits in his mouth every time he remembers.
Isaac is sure that this isn't a new start. He turns around, looks around, and a train chugs away with his knowing that whatever horror is coming along after this, it won't be any easier than it was before.
So when he sees Scott, he doesn't say it's you again because there's a kind of recognition in the other's eyes that tell him this one doesn't know of space and the damage it's done on him; when he sees Erica, he knows she doesn't remember the jokes about the jeggings or the Reeses, and the Stiles he gets to talk to isn't the one who throws him goals with makeshift lacrosse sticks — each familiar face he sees is familiar only because he knows who they were.
It feels like he's lost home all over again — which is why he doesn't expect to see Alayne Stone standing outside his door when he opens it, nor does he expect to see Lady by her side. He doesn't expect the fierceness of feeling that seizes him like a fist around the heart, squeezing so tightly that all the air escapes out of him in a rush.
He stands still, frozen, because she looks so much like he remembers her, but he doesn't know how to ask if she remembers, if she knows who he is, if she knows that he broke his hands trying to free her wolf from the confines of the quarters while the halls had screeched in red light. He doesn't know if he wants to hear an answer that gets phrased like a welcome, how are you, are you new here, because Isaac had—
Truly liked her. Had skipped a heart beat in knowing she was pleased of him, that his injuries and efforts had done her some comfort. She was kind to him and Isaac had wanted to lend himself to her feet if it meant she would have smiled at him again.
Isaac pulls at the hem of his shirt, fingers unsure where to place themselves, his gaze to the floor. ]
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He wakes and the smells are different — old, softer, buzzing with a kind of electricity that doesn't come from the wires and pipes that run through the Tranquility. His skin is dry, no longer touched by the cold of capsulized liquids, his his throat clean of the ache he's become used to over the months of his stay on the ship, but the inside of his bones feel drenched with a weariness that he doesn't want to name. He feels so tired, tired of lying to Derek, of keeping secrets from Josh and Tyler and Jenna, feels stretched to the brink that the pack that is his home is being picked apart by the things they all choose not to tell each other - some of which are secrets that he owns, and which leaves bitter grits in his mouth every time he remembers.
Isaac is sure that this isn't a new start. He turns around, looks around, and a train chugs away with his knowing that whatever horror is coming along after this, it won't be any easier than it was before.
So when he sees Scott, he doesn't say it's you again because there's a kind of recognition in the other's eyes that tell him this one doesn't know of space and the damage it's done on him; when he sees Erica, he knows she doesn't remember the jokes about the jeggings or the Reeses, and the Stiles he gets to talk to isn't the one who throws him goals with makeshift lacrosse sticks — each familiar face he sees is familiar only because he knows who they were.
It feels like he's lost home all over again — which is why he doesn't expect to see Alayne Stone standing outside his door when he opens it, nor does he expect to see Lady by her side. He doesn't expect the fierceness of feeling that seizes him like a fist around the heart, squeezing so tightly that all the air escapes out of him in a rush.
He stands still, frozen, because she looks so much like he remembers her, but he doesn't know how to ask if she remembers, if she knows who he is, if she knows that he broke his hands trying to free her wolf from the confines of the quarters while the halls had screeched in red light. He doesn't know if he wants to hear an answer that gets phrased like a welcome, how are you, are you new here, because Isaac had—
Truly liked her. Had skipped a heart beat in knowing she was pleased of him, that his injuries and efforts had done her some comfort. She was kind to him and Isaac had wanted to lend himself to her feet if it meant she would have smiled at him again.
Isaac pulls at the hem of his shirt, fingers unsure where to place themselves, his gaze to the floor. ]
Uhm, hi.