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Borrowed Strength (CA - Matthew & Zander)

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Matthew was out for only a few seconds before he opened his eyes to find Zander had picked him up. Still a bit disoriented over what exactly happened, he closed his eyes trying to remember the moment before. Nothing came to mind. The world sounded muffled, his head feeling light.

He didn't try to move or resist Zander as the stranger managed to lug them both back to the gas station. He felt himself meet the warm floor as Zander collapsed, but he didn't make a sound until the wet rag had once again made contact with his skin. He moaned. Slowly his eyes opened as he took one glance at Zander, a look of sadness in his eyes, before staring at the ceiling. A long silence followed before he said anything.

" I thought loners didn't like other loners..." He said quietly.

Zander was wiping the dripping sweat off his forehead and still breathing heavily. He wasn't quite desperate enough to collapse on the floor yet and spread out, but he was getting there.

"Eh?" he glanced up as the kid stirred, "What, one size fits all?  How about this: people don't let people roast out in the desert".

He sighed wearily, massaging his temples, "Just promise not to go running off like that. I won't be able to drag you back next time".

Matthews expression saw no shift, unconvinced. He looked off to the side away from Zander.

" If we were trespassing a packs territory, they'd let us burn up in the sun." He said grimly, his brows begining to knit.

He exhaled harshly from his nose, "Well. I'm not them okay?  We're allowed individual behavior, hm?"

He glared at Matthew, "Kid, why are you out here? Do you have a death-wish I should be aware of?"

Matthew eyed Zander, lips pursed now. Without warning he pushed himself up to a sitting position, grabbing the rag on his forehead before it fell from motion. He felt a rush of lightheadedness hit him, the effect making him wobble slightly. He gave himself a moment to find stability, then he rebelliously handed Zander the rag back.

" I already told you, I'm on my own." He started. " I was trying to cross the desert to get to that.. One city, up north. I heard there might be something useful up there. And... As a loner, it feels safer moving around than staying in one place."

"The entire desert?" Zander intoned dubiously with a raised eyebrow, taking the rag with a sigh, "Hundreds of miles of desert on nothing more than a backpack and a prayer... uh... huh..."

"I promise you there's nothing safe about moving around for the sake of it," he lectured, then caught himself, "Look - I don't want you to get hurt.  And trust me, this town has plenty of danger".

He glanced outside, "Why do you think I've been camping out here? Trust me, it's not just the heat".

Matthew followed Zanders gaze outside. He then stared at his motorcycle parked just outside and blinked. He sheepishly rubbed his neck as his gaze shifted around uncomfortably. " Could you... Give me a ride to the next town?" He asked sounding embarrassed. " ...I'm sure I can find someone there that'll help me out to get to where I'm going."

Zander sighed forlornly, "When they manage to hunt down the mechanic, sure.  I'm guessing the shopkeeper won't return with news until the heat has died down".

If this were an ordinary kid, the first place he'd have delivered him to was child protective services.  He was thus far unimpressed by the youth's ability to fend for himself, and clearly needed some manner of parental guidance to prevent an untimtely demise. Unfortunately, it was never that easy.  Without knowing more of his circumstances, placing him in the care of the state would be the last thing that would likely help him or anyone around him.

"Kid, what kind of trouble are you in?" he glanced at him, "I know someone that might be able to help you.  He's helped a lot of us".

 

" I'm not in any trouble," he grumbled. Brows now knit, his voice drew quiet as he stared at the ground. " I'm just... Avoiding foster care. ...Because.. Well, it's obvious why I can't be there, right...?"

"Sure," Zander said casually, smearing a thick roll of sweat off his brow and watching it drip disinterestedly to the floor.

The trouble was, he could picture it all too well.  Foster-parents were a hit or miss at the best of times.  He'd met kids in the system - he'd been one of those kids, however briefly. But he'd been the lucky one to be taken in by people that loved him before he could even remember it.  Add to that a dash of lycanthropy, and Zander really didn't want to think of what could-have-been.

"I know being a teenager makes it a popular notion but... there are people out there that could really understand you," he said quietly, "Your problem is all of our problem.  I know someone that could help place you in a stable home, and train you, if you need it".

He glanced with a wrinkled nose to the cracked, brown asphalt of the parking lot, "Beats feeling yourself roast alive, anyways".

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