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Ambrose looked up to Matthew as he stood to leave. "Are you certain...?" He wasn't quite sure whether or not he wanted to be left alone, but more than understood Matthew's discomfort.

"Thank you... again, matthew, for your help. Good luck finding anything out."

As the door opened his attention redirected to Aubrey.

Ambrose stared at the basket dumbfounded for a moment, numbly accepting it. A gift basket?! She was giving him a giftbasket?! He wasn't quite sure what to feel. One one hand, she seemed to be genuinely apologizing. But was that just more of an act? And... a giftbasket. Would there be some sort of contrite note that said "Sorry we turned you into the wolfman?"

He set it down, running a hand through his hair. He was exhausted. The change had been so traumatizing... and had kept him from getting virtually any sleep on top of that the night before. He had also gone through the whole gamut of emotions it seemed today. From horror... to denial, fear, overwhelmed self-pity, then anger, then depression, and guilt.... now... he felt so spent.

And here was the same woman that had laughed at him this morning - whom he had been ready to bite a chunk out of given the opportunity. Now, he looked at her with puppydog eyes. "Please.... Doctor Lockheart.... please .... tell me. What in God's name happened to me.....? I... I just want to go home - to go back to being normal...."

The next morning, Ambrose woke slowly to the sun creeping in through the gaps of his curtains. After several repeated attempts to remain sleeping, consciousness finally won out and pulled Ambrose out of the safety of his dreams. He breathed in a deep breath of the laundry-smell of the bedsheets, his eyes still firmly squeezed shut.

As memory of the past harrowing day and a half surfaced a few moments later he moaned.... hoping beyond hope that it had in fact been just a horridly realistic nightmare. As he curled up tighter, still resisting wakefulness, the sheets rubbed remindingly against his fur, dismissing the last vestige of hope he had before he had even opened his eyes.

Swallowing and forcing himself to a seated position, he felt as if he had lead weights on his shoulders.... it was all so terrible.... Aubrey... what she had said... him and all of the people there.... they han'd done anything to deserve this! Indignation flared and he stood quickly, stalking to the bathroom to do the most minimal of necessary hygene - brushing his teeth and hair, putting on deoderant, all the while trying to avoid looking in the mirror.

Facing his closet, he deliberately selected the most "normal" of his clothing - a nice polo shirt and khaki pants. Determined, as thin as it was, to try to be himself, to not let them win any more than they already had. The Dude had been the wisest individual he had spoken with so far - he had been helpful, and understanding - to a point. He wasnt' afraid to slap him with reality and with the responsibility that Ambrose had and was too selfish to see.

He had a duty now - he had information that the rest needed - as bleak as that information might be. He wasn't sure if he would be able to - but as a man, and a gentleman, he owed it to them to spread the word.

Taking a breath, focusing on what needed to be done, he opened his door and stepped out into the outside world for the first time in two days, heading straight for Duplex #12, his eyes focused straight ahead of him.

Knocking on the door and keeping his posture straight, he called out. "Dude? Are you awake? We have more we need to discuss!"

((Continued in The Dude's Duplex, starting on page 4)).

Ambrose closed the door quietly to his room after having returned from the cafeteria, and a lengthy talk with Cassidy and The Dude about just how screwed all of them were or were soon to be.

Walking slowly to his bed, he sat down heavily to think and reflect. The steak from dinner had tasted... exquisite. He had deigned to comment during dinner itself, but the medium-rare, juicy flavorful steak had seemed to melt in his mouth. He didnt' want to think about how he probably looked to his two companions. He couldn't even remember how many of the steaks he had eaten, only that the conversation from the dude's house dropped off markedly as soon as they hit the cafeteria and food was involved. Ambrose didn't even remember looking up, he groaned, putting his head into his hands. He had completely ignored the side dishes as well, he thought to himself - they had ... creamed corn.... and some fresh fruit - which he normally was quite fond of. But when he had gotten into the cafeteria the only thing that seemed to exist to him was the meat.

He didn't like what was happening. That was the understatement of the century. Breathing in every dreg of confidence from his reserves, he stood up, undressed, and headed back to the bathroom, determined to actually face himself in the mirror. He had to face up to the... bizarre reality... of the situation, what was happening to him if he could continue on. He looked at the sandy-grey colored mix of thick.... fur (and he made himself think that term) that covered his chest, shoulders, back, legs, and patches on his hands and feet. It looked so... strange growing from him like a pelt. And he could feel it on him, the air stirring it, rubbing and itching against his clothing. His ears had lengthened out to points - with the soft-mossy fur along the edges - like some strange mockery of an elf. That thought almost brought a smile to his lips as he remembered Angelina go on and on about those Lord of the Rings elves...

His upper and lower canines had extended out to virtual fangs. He bared them at the mirror a growl rising in his throat as he pictured a snarling animal, quickly closing his mouth and drawing his lips back over them afterwards. That was actually somewhat disturbing looking... they looked really long and sharp when he did that. Maybe he wasn't becoming a domesticated dog... maybe "wolfman" was more of an accurate description.... His eyes scanned his reflection in the mirror, noting the claws he had already noticed rather ealy on that tipped his fingers and toes. They were still normally colored, but thicker, harder and sharper than any person's had a right to be. Before finishing looking at his front, he noticed, with a small note of confusion and deciding not to dwell on the fact that he apparently was no longer circumcized...

Finally, he turned around and, for the first time, looked at the .... tail that had extended out from where his spine normally tucked into his coccyx. It was thin and bony, and couldn't be much more than two inches long, but it felt longer to him - covered with a fine smattering of the same colored hair. Finally, and perhaps it was the beers in his system, he got the nerve to try to move it... he wasn't exactly sure how he felt - scared or awkward or embarrassed when it wiggled a tiny amount.

And on top of that, he felt different. That, he wasn't sure if he was ready to admit to even his companions. Not just self-conscious about his appearance, but little things that sometimes he was pretty sure he didn't even notice himself doing. The way he walked, sniffed at the air, and, of course, his appetite and quickly degrading tablemanners...

He ran both hands through his blonde hair, deep in thought. Could he deal with this...? His mind balked indignantly - of course he could! What choice did he have?! Face... becoming a wolf.... person... Face never going home again, never seeing Angelina again, see his parents again, to finally prove himself to them, and to seal his goal of going to the Olympics... the thing he had wanted to do more than anything since he was a boy. Shattered. Gone. And there was nothing he could do about it. He was out of control of the situation, and he would have to find his center again.

He sighed, and twisted on the showerhead, stepping in. A hot shower had always been his place to relax, unwind, and be alone - away from the criticisms of his parents... who he would probably never see again... away from the critical eyes of his peers, and could stop pretending to be someone he wasn't.... somewhere he was always safe from criticism and the seemingly ever-present disapproving eyes.

Ambrose decides to take his fencing gear out to the beach and practice to get his mind off things... and ends up running into Julian again and having a talk with him.
http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?p=32234387#32234387

Ambrose and Aubrey talk

After Ambrose's long, heartfelt conversation with the Dude, he felt motivated. Something that his depression had kept from him for the past several days. This was at least something he could cling to. Something important he could do - and perhaps even make some headway. If not for his sake, than for the sake of anyone else that would be brought here.

He showered, and grabbed a bite to eat, changing into one of his nicer clothes - a longer sleeved shirt and slacks, the heat of the day already fading into eveningtime, thank goodness.

Swallowing his anxiety, he started down the dirt path that led to the intimidating gate. Looking up at the camera he cleared his throat. "I... I know you turned off my intercom..." he started, feeling awkward talking at someone he couldn't see. "But... if you're there Aubrey... I wanted to talk..."

Aubrey's radio beeped, indicating someone was at the gate. Flipping it open she said "Show Monitor 1-A" and the monitor in laboratory she was working in flipped on, showing Ambrose standing there, asking for her by name, no less. Looking a bit surprised, she closed the file she was working on and headed down to the lobby.

She dialed a code into her phone and the main gate slid open, allowing Ambrose to come to the handle-less glass door. In a few moments, it slid open, revealing Aubrey on the other side. "Can I help you?" she asked. She tried to sound friendly, but she seemed nervous - afraid of being yelled at by him again.


Ambrose was dressed rather nicely, his hands in his pockets and he looked quite nervous himself as he strolled into the lobby. Glad that, at least, this time they weren't refusing to talk to him after his previous actions.

He had a hard time looking her in the eye at first, turbulent emotions swimming in his chest. "I..." he took a breath. "I spoke with the Dude earleir.." He began, trying to keep the resentment from his voice. Before going further he looked up, trying to judge her initial reaction to that simple statement.

Aubrey blinked. "Oh..?" She looked interested, but then gave a nervous look towards one of the cameras. But then she frowned. The dude had lost a lot of respect for her, and that made her upset. She hated not being liked, especially by someone who had been so nice to her before. Aubrey averted her eyes and offered a seat to Ambrose. "What... did he say?"


Ambrose shrugged and plopped down into a chair, reminding himself to stay cordial... friendly if possible. "I think he likes the sealion choice..." he started on a mostly neutral subject. "He loves the ocean... it seems fitting" He glanced at her. "Was that intentional..? Do you or Moreau choose the animal? Or is it somehow related to us?"

Aubrey shurgged. "Moreau choses most of the time. He's only recently allowed me any say on what animals people get..." She fidgeted around the lobby, straightening the magazines and the like. "Sometimes he does it intentially, other times I think its pretty random. I guess the doctor thought a sea lion was an appropiate choice given his... lifestyle."


Ambrose nodded, letting that percolate in his mind for a moment. "It... must be hard to choose for someone" he tested. "Choosing someone's fate like that. Shaping their self identity.... Holding that kind of power or control over them."

Aubrey paled a bit, suddenly looking like she was about to cry. She had just recently develired two injections to some very young subjects...and not pleasant ones at that.

She had purposely chosen two very ugly animals, because the young woman insulted her.

Aubrey swallowed and shrugged. "I guess you try not to think abuot it." Her voice was shaking


Ambrose looked up, masking his surprise at getting such a response from her so quickly. He was going to just lead into asking about himself, but he couldn't pass this. He had to be careful - press, but not too hard or else she'd shut down on him. Nurture that conscience in her, but not so much that it scared her.

"Not think about it...?" He queried. "I ... wow, I don't think I could do that. Wouldn't you have to think about it every time you saw them? Or saw them adjusting to what's happening to them...? The fear or self-denial as their humanity fades away..." he tried to make it sound empatic as opposed to criticizing. "Especially if it's something the person doens't like... which you couldn't very well ask them ahead of time without 'giving it away'". Keep that bitterness out Ambrose reminded himself.

Aubrey plopped down. "I dunno," she said, trying to calm down. "How people react is honestly something we're... interested in. I mean, we have no idea how personalities will be affected. I guess is everything turned into something they really wanted...giving the circumstances... " she trailed off with a sigh. "I dunno. I guess its just the scientific detatchments I've developed."


His brows furrowed. "Everything I've ever read about scientists say that they shouldn't leave their emotions behind...." he said carefully "Otherwise the reasons for the study can be forgotten for the intracacies of the study itself. Ethics courses, laws, all of those are there for a reason..... and just because you're testing reactions doesn't mean you can't predict how someone would react to becoming something they don't like, personalities aside. That's a psychological study, not a genetic one. And.... besdies, if you're taking someone away from what they love, their lives, I think that your variables are going to be pretty much screwed as far as reactions to this go without making it all the worse for someone by making them something hideous to boot"

"I can't lie, what we're doing here works outsides the bounds of most ethics and laws. But... we believe its greater than that. We're willing to accept the sacrifices for the outcomes."


He chewed on his cheek. "How can something be outside the bounds of ethics??" He said, confused. "That... just think about that sentance. Seriously."

"And.." he said, realizing an opening. "YOU are willing to make those sacrifices... but what about the people who are being turned into unwilling martyrs? How can that choice be made FOR them?" He tried to view this as a debate - one he felt strongly for, given, but at least view it from more of an outside position.

Aubrey wouldn't look him in the eyes. "because everyone had a different intereptation of what ethics are. Nick- ah, Dotcor Moreau isn't doing he thinks is wrong. Not for the bigger picture."

"As for me... I... well, of course I see things the way the doctor does... mostly. I appreciate his dedication and his vision and his genious."


Ambrose looked skeptical at that. "Whose ethics say it's okay to do what's going on here? Take someone from their friends? Family? Love? Completely and permanently physically change them to something not even human. Imprison them and never let them go home... and..." he hit this last part hard. "Never even let them say goodbye?"

Aubrey swallowed. "There is something greater going on here than any individual person here. That's what you're failing to see."


Ambrose held up a hand. "Even IF what you're doing benefits people.... you're still benefiting people on an individual basis as well. This person who can't hear.... that person who can't see... IF it even works... and in return you're taking people from their homes. Why can't you just take people who want to come? I'm sure there are more people like Madison who this can help, who's willing to accept the aid. Or some of those nature freaks who like animals more than people. The psychological reactions truly can't be THAT important if you're doing this for a medical study yet. Not when you're keeping people here for their natural lives. After you've shown whatever benefits it's going to give you, and have gone public, THEN you can test people who would be less willing because you won't have to take them from their homes. See, that would be an even better "test" without all these variables that would make the study inviable anyway!"

"For one thing," she started, "we can't really go around advertising this kind of thing. I'm sure you're smart enough to realize this isn't exactly legal." She crossed her legs, " And secondly, I'm sure you're taken a statistics or science class before to know how randomization is important. Just taking who would want to turn into animals? Something tells me that wouldn't be a random sample group."

"But what are you calling "random" anyway? In their interests, perhaps not - but physiologically, what does that matter? I'm sure you can still get an age range, nationality, and healthiness range from PETA people. Or those... people into... fuzzies... or whatever they are."
"And I'm sure you can get people who would be more willing to participate wihtout saying straight out what you were doing. I'm sure it was pretty damn obvious from my olympic goals and loving girlfriend that I was pretty attached to the life I was leading." Emotion was slipping into his voice, and he didn't care. He couldn't come about this coldly - rational logical explanations alone wouldn't work on Aubrey, he didn't think. He was trying to appeal to her conscience, not her mind.

Aubrey took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "PETA people I highly doubt would appreciate what we're doing here." She didn't go further than that, but the sound in voice implied most likely the animal DNA wasn't extracted by nail clipping or fur samples.

"Anyway, we carefully screen every applicant who we bring here. We bring people who ... who honestly can dissapear without raising too many eyebrows. I'm sorry, Ambrose, but you were struggling... thats why you were willng to risk your own health for a bit of money."


Ambrose growled under his breath, despite intentions otherwise. It became quite obvious why there weren't any others here for the same reason as he was. They had done a great deal of homework. "There are people that will miss me. A lot of them..." He shook his head, focusing. "I'm sure many of them would be willing to sign wavers leaping at this 'opportunity'. Isn't it worth a bit more effort in your screenings and methods of bringing people here for the happiness of your residents? I mean... good lord, Aubrey... I'm not stupid. There are 50 duplexes out there... 50. That means 50 lives ruined. 50 people taken from their homes, and potentially hundreds of people 'back home' who lose a loved one - and wonder every day where they are, why they haven't written, and when they'll see them again!"

He swallowed. "Angelina... I'm sure you've heard me talking about her on your cameras" he tried to not make it sound accusing. "I miss her so badly, Aubrey. More than the chance at the olympics. More than my parents even. And I know she misses me. My two weeks has come and gone, and I'm willing to bet you never sent out any of my letters to her..."

Aubrey looked away again. "I didn't know you had a lover. I... I don't pick these people, Ambrose. I work for the Doctor..." Her voice was shaking again, and she seemed to want to hide, like a child being yelled at by a parent. "But people... but people die or go missing everyday..." she seemed to be reciting something, like she had prepared herself for these questions. "IT happens... people adjust. Its part of life..."

She was silent for a few moments, though she looked like she was trying to articulate something. "I'm sorry abuot her," she finally murmered.


Ambrose swallowed, looking down. "Apparently the homework wasn't thorough enough." The depression was plain in his voice at this point. "Yes. people die everyday. does that mean you wouldn't mourn them? Not want to hold those people responsible who took them from you because 'It Happens?' Have you ever lost anyone in your life, Aubrey? How can you know that pain and belittle it so if you haven't expierenced it? I can see her face when I close my eyes... hear her voice.... I know she's worried about me, deep in my heart. And I don't think I'll ever forget her - nor would I want to... I... I just want to be home with her again..." His eyes looked bloodshot.


Aubrey just opened and closed her mouth a few times, looking awkwardly up a camera then back down to Ambrose. "Most, uhmm" her voice was very shakey and she seemed to have a hard time staying composed and detatched. "most high school relationships don't survive through college, Ambrose..." Aubrey squeezed her eyes shut, knowing even as she said it that she was scraping at straws.


Ambrose looked to her indignantly. "Ours would have." He stated firmly. "You don't know what I gave up for her, how I changed for her. No... how she helped me change for the better. I was happy because of her - I was following my dreams and making them ours. She tempered me into a better person - more understanding and accepting, seeing past the surface of people and the facade that I had been living and always yearning for more. Have you ever known someone and just known they were right for you?" His eyes lingered on her, wondering how close she really was to Moreau.

Aubrey swallowed again, looking guilty. She had just been a hypocrit. She had known Moreau since high school, but of course they were never a romantic item until very recently. They "dated" in college, but that was more Moreau's manipulation of her than anything meaningful.

Finally her voice dropped to almost a whisper, but replied "yes.. I have."


Ambrose nodded, knowing very well who she was talking about. "Then you must know how I feel..." He wheedled... not pushing it as far as he did in his last conversation, which only had made her upset. "It's... like a part of you is missing when they're not there.... They say finding your soulmate is the hardest thing in the world to do. And that once you find them you should never let go. I... I never wanted to let go of her, Aubrey. And I know she feels the same for me. Do you know how rare that is? How precious?" He didn't want to focus on himself... well... a part of his mind didn't, feeling bad about it... but... one one hand, he needed to express these feelings - hell, Angelina had taught him that - that bottling them up wasn't any good. He couldn't write to her anymore to get those feelings out - they would never get to her. And the Dude wasn't exactly comfortable with that type of discussion he had learned.... and... with Aubrey... not only did she seem to listen... but... maybe, just maybe, with her - talking about it might do some good.

Aubrey blinked back a few tears, obviously relating very well to what Ambrose was saying. She was nodding along with him, but Ambrose could probably tell she wasn't meaning to. Aubrey leaned forward, dropping her voice low again. "But Ambrose," she said, a pleading look in her eyes, "if you love her that much is there anything you wouldn't do for her?"


Ambrose opened his mouth, his heart yearning and finding sympathy with someone whom he realized knew the feelings that he had. But, as he was about to comisserate, agree that there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her, his brain clicked a warning. There was a reason she knew so well, and precisely why she was doing what she was. His head drooped and he looked down at their shoes, swallowing hard. "If.... I knew what she wanted to do was wrong... I would at least voice my opinion. If she loved me in return, wouldn't my opinion hold some merit?"

Aubrey looked dumbstruck for a moment, then just sat up straight. "I don't know," she said honestly. "You said yourself you make their dreams your own."


Ambrose nodded, not willing to let this go. "Precisely. You work together - you share everything. Trust is ever so important, as I'm sure you know. But you have to look out for eachother. You love them and want to see eachother succeed, and in doing so - you have to let them know, pull them back to reality if you know it needs to be done. That's what makes a pair so much stronger than a single person - and a true couple in love a powerful thing. Sometimes the other person can't see the forest for the trees they become so driven... Angelina has had to pull my head out of fencing before" he said with a small smile. "Make me realize that I hadn't eaten... or that if I overtrained that I'd be too exhausted for an upcoming match for the training to be any good. And... of course, opening my eyes to the beauty of life that exists outside of fencing that I might not have realized without her there."

Aubrey scratched the hair behind her ear. She looked distinctly uncomfortable. it was obvious she had a lot she wanted to say, but she knew very well she was being watched. "Sometimes..." she said, trying to think and put her thoughts together, "the person you love has different priorities that you do. But you love them so much, you're just happy to be near them. You feel complete being there for them, and anything more than their simple acknowledgement that you exist.. well, you consider yourself just thankful and lucky and blessed to have more. Be be loved in return, alone, is saying alot." She gave a pointed look to Ambrose.


Ambrose swallowed, realizing that the Dude was indeed correct about his judgemnet on Aubrey being an opportunity, not necessarily the enemy with a pleasant facade he had thought she was upon his first argument... Most importantly, he couldn't let her forget or allow that channel to her conscience heal. Instead, let it grow and bother her by making sure that she would continue having conversations like these.

"I... I was very driven in my goal to the Olympics... and Angelina was very supportive of that, which is wonderful. I can't tell you how much she did for me. But... if I were to get it into my head that I would be a better fencer if I were to practice with live steel... and to battle opponents where i might cause serious harm to them because it would make me that much better at avoiding blows if I thought they would cause me damage... and she let me: more than that, she supported that decision.... would you think that she truly loved me?"

"If that was what you want to do.. then yes," she said unconvingly.


Ambrose's brow furrowed and he looked equally unconvinced at her genuinity. "You would support me even if it might cause harm to myself or others? Without even voicing concerns...?" He shook his head. "I have a difficult time believing that."

"I know what you're trying to do here, Mister Maurlias," she said, standing up and pacing around a bit. "But this.. this is n ot a silly little game. This is bigger than you, me, or fencing. I do not question him. He... he.. I .." she shook her head. "This isn't the same."


"Game??" Ambrose looked boggled. "Precisely my point. Because it IS so big... that is precisely why it is so important" he said simply. Another nagging thought tugged at Ambrose. It was important that he have discussions with her like this... now.. while she could still identify him as a human being. Before his face was obscured with fur, and it would be easier to not take him as seriously, he swallowed, the thought chilling his bones.
"I... I'm sorry that this is hurting you Aubrey" he whispered, quietly. "I... I can only imagine how it must feel.... but whatever happens... please, don't lose sight of what is important to you as well as to him. Don't detach yourself from what's around you or you will lose yourself as a person more than any of the rest of us here."

Aubrey ran a hand through her hair. "This is important to me" she said, not looking at him. "I'm ... I'm so sorry abuot , ah.. Angelina? I know you don't want to believe me, but I am. But I can't do anything about it. Its too late now..."

He winced. "Angelina Swanson. Beautiful.. even if she doesn't realize it. The bluest eyes you've ever seen... creamy brown hair." He sighed, trying perfectly intentionally to make her more of a person to Aubrey than just a name. "And it's never too late.... you wouldn't have given up like that... would you?"

"There's nothing I can do..." she pleaded. "What would you propose I do, Ambrose?"


Ambrose opened and closed his mouth, swallowing. What could he suggest? He looked down at his lap. "I don't know" he whispered. "I... I just miss her so much"
Don't cry, Ambrose... don't cry.

She walked over to him. "I'm sorry, Ambrose. If I could do anything, I would. But I can't compromise the experiement. I can't let you go home. I can't, even IF I wanted to."

He shrugged, swallowed and stared at the floor. "The experiment. Right." his voice sounded colder, hollow. "Just.. please.... there are other people who once they realize what has happened... the lifetime obligation... will have just as many problems as this... please.... don't force this on more unwilling people..."

"Ambrose, I'm sorry. But I just don't think thats... possible."


He winced. He couldn't push her any further... this conversation at the very least. This would be a slow process, he knew. At least... at least she still had these feelings.... and that was a sign of hope, of progress. "Is.... is there any way I could even get word to her, Aubrey? I... I wish I could talk to her again..." He didn't sound too optimistic, but there was still hope in his voice.

"I don't know, Ambrose. How would you explain why you were alive, but couldn't be with her? Without compromising us?"

He shrugged, thinking. Despite ulterior motives, he DID want to talk to her... so badly "I... I don't know... I'd want her to know it wasn't my fault, I didn't mean to leave her... .maybe... you were vaccinating... a disease...? Quarentined...?"

Aubrey shook her head. "Would it really be best, Ambrose, for her to know you were trapped somewhere. Without her?"


He hung his head and shrugged. "I don't know" he whispered, taking every ounce of his willpower not to cry. "I don't know what she thinks otherwise... and if that is any easier..."

Aubrey frowned. "If.. if she thought you had.. passes away. Maybe she could move on. She's still young..." She winced, knowing this wasn't easy, but also knowing it would be for Angelina

He swallowed, the tears starting to leak out through his restraint, and he turned his head, honestly not wanting her to see that. "I don't know" came the choked response. "I... I don't want her to think I'm dead" he whispered. "I love her so much still... I can't just move on... I can't even think about it ... holding her in my arms... just two weeks ago... telling her I'd see her again soon..."

Aubrey's chin shook and she found herself almost in tears again. He was crying, my god. "I'm so sorry, Amrbose. I really hope one day you'll see the bigger picture. You're doing something grand. You should... yu should be proud. Let her move on... realize you're part of something different now..."


"right..." his voice echoed, hearing her rehersed speach again didn't help his emotions in the least. Nor did being a part of something he strongly disagreed with. He stood up suddenly and walked over to the watercoolor, filling one of the paper cups and drinking it, using the opportunity to wipe at his face.

"I'm... if you tell me what you want me to do... I can try..." she walked over to him, putting a hand on his back. "I'll try. I promise... I'll do what I can."


He shrugged, crumpling the paper cup and tossing it into the wastebasket. "I wish I could talk to her again..." He mused. And thinking unselfishly, as hard as it was at the moment "And I wish that this 'experiment' didn't break apart more people like this..."

Aubrey wiped at her eyes, trying to control her own emotions. "I should leave," she said. She didn't really have anything pressing, but this conversation was wearing on her. And she knew he was watching.


He nodded dumbly, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths and trying to bottle the emotions back up inside.

He hesitated at the cooler for another moment before turning around. His eyes were still red and puffy, but the tears were no longer falling at least. "I might as well ask... as long as I'm here..." He sighed. "I do want to know.... it's probably obvious, but just in case... what exactly was I injected with...?" He deliberately tried to change the subject. Hammering at Aubrey's emotions had proven nearly impossible without doing the exact same thing to him.

"Wolf," she said simply, trying to keep her voice neutral. "thats not so bad...is it..?"

He rolled the thought around in his head. He had suspected something pretty similar, and given the situation as much as he hated to admit it, he rather liked wolves. And it was better than a housepet, in his opinion. "I... I suppose it's not... given the potential for much worse." He admitted.
Pausing, he had to ask one more thing. "I.... I'll still be able to... hold things, right? When... this is all said and done? Hold a pencil? Hold a sword?"

"I don't know for certain, to be honest, Ambrose." Aubrey was trying to compose herself and give an encouraging smile. "But I think so."


He nodded, really wanting to try to end this on a positive note. "I... I hope so. I hope to God so." He wrung his hands, looking at the joints in his fingers, and realizing just how much he had taken the little things for granted.

"Wolf." He repeated to himself, as if trying on the word for size, it never meaning quite so much or holding quite so much importance to him before, image of wolves tossed about in his mind. He could certainly imagine much worse of a pick. There was even a wolf on the old family crest if he remembered correctly. He wondered how much research they had done. "Is there a reason that was picked...?" He asked, using the questions as a device to reign in his emotions.

Aubrey shrugged. "Not that I know. It was the doctor's choice."

He nodded. "Ironic how much a seemingly random chance can affect your life... isn't it?" He let the glance linger on her a moment longer, trying to compart the seriousness of what choices she might make would effect those around her, at the very least.

Aubrey looked towards the elevator. "I really have to go..." Forcing an apologetic smile, Aubrey made a bee-line for the elevator.


Ambrose nodded, heading towards the doors, sighing heavily as he was pretty sure he knew exactly to whose side she was retreating... hopefully not to undo whatever progress he might have made.

Reflections

((*looks down* Dear lord, this is what I do when the net and guild is down 0.o ))

Ambrose heaved a sigh, having just wandered back into his bungalow from yet another large meal. For the time, at least, his stomach was full and sated. He used to be quite good at eating at least three smaller meals a day - he had a fit lifestyle and had made himself aware of the "healthiness" of eating many smaller meals. Recently, however, his appetite when it did develop was nearly overpowering, demanding an enormous meal before going into remission until the next day. Snacking later in the day didn't seem to help, and he only found himself eating when he wasn't hungry. To make matters worse, he was frequently sleepy after eating unless he forced himself to go do something like fencing practice.

He knew why. He just didn't like to admit it. Ambrose had done rather well in Biology class - especially having Angelina to study it with who was quite interested in the subject and enjoyed discussing with him interesting nuances of animal behavior or snuggling with her while vegged in front of the television and watching the Discovery Channel. He had been settling into quite the predatory eating patterns: not just in his undeniable penchant for meat, but in the timing of his meals: eating a large amount of food about once a day, and getting sleepy afterwards. It was a survival instinct: big predators didn't know when their next meal would come, and gorged themselves when food was available. Then they would nap in order to store as much of that energy as possible. Ambrose patted his stomach. Not that he needed "storage" here with how plentiful the food was. He wasn't exaclty having to depend on his hunting abilities here, thank God. At least he didnt' seem to be putting on weight - whatever metabolic processes were going on in his body had certainly sped up his metabolism, for better or worse.

He lay back down on the bed, a sleepy, relaxed "mmmm" escaping his throat as he stretched his back and put his hands behind his head. He wondered if the food quality had been getting better in the meat department, or if it was just his tastes changing. Regardless, the aftertaste of the briscuit still in his mouth added to the mellow feeling.

The days seemed to be crawling, ironically given the slow repetitiveness of each day. How long had he been trapped on this Island now..? He furrowed his brow, thinking back 3 weeks, almost exactly. IT seemed like forever. Forever since he had seen Angelina's big blue eyes and smirky smile. Heard her playfully teasing him or sincerely wishing him a good trip and a safe return.... Two weeks, he thought miserably, he was only supposed to be gone for two weeks. Now it looked like - unless he and the Dude had some sort of breakthrough, that he might very well be here for the rest of his natural life. Hopefully that at least wouldn't be altered by the serum. He swallowed hard. He hadn't considered that. No... that was ridiculous, right? THe doctor said that they would be morphologically altered, but mentally they would be the same...... probably. And they were still human to begin with... that made a difference, right?

A nihilistic thought flitted through his mind - would it be better that way if his lifetime WAS shortened? Perhaps it would lessen the pain that he had been separated from everything he held valuable: Any chance at the olympics and finally making his parents proud of him and, most importantly, Angelina. No, that was ridiculous... he didn't want to die... he wasn't suicidal and he was stronger than that. He was a man, no matter WHAT they might make him look like... they wouldn't change that about him, so help him. They couldn't force HIS morals and sense of self - that was his and his alone.

His thoughts swum... he hadn't just sat down to just think in too long, and things were getting so damn complicated.

Aubrey's words drifted back to him, recalling the situation to him and asking the question what WOULD he do..? What could he ask? They weren't going to let him go... he didn't think that all the appealing to Aubrey's conscience in the world would bring her to letting him go. A knot formed in his throat as his mind tried to wrap around the finality of that concept. Never leaving. Resigning himself to the fate of being transfigured into .... something no longer human. Something that were most people to see they would more likely assume him to be some sort of monster at worse, and at best an anamatronic prop from a werewolf movie (or someone in damn good makeup...). Wolf... At least he knew what he was becoming. For some reason, he felt better knowing as opposed to the vague uncertainty that hung beforehand. He had pretty much surmised canine, but there had lingered the possibility something like... a pug... or some other inane housedog. And he had told the truth - he did rather like wolves... the ironic note that there was a wolf rampant on his family's old crest didn't escape him. Of course, there was a wolf on the Feral Laboratories logo as well... Perhaps he was meant to be some sort of twisted posterchild, he thought bitterly.

He knew the concept of literally becoming an animal-person wasn't sinking in as deeply as it needed to be. Maybe it was best not dwelling on it... the changes would come - like it or not. The alternative, Aubrey said (and given what little he did know of cancer, he belived her) that if he stopped receiving the injections then he would more than likely become a sack of cancerous cells as his body literally broke down, and die a most painful death. Despite the situation, Ambrose was,and had always been, terrified of the concept of dying. It was something he rarely mentioned, even to those he was close to. He hung to life with a determined ferocity, even if it wasn't as he wished it would be. "There is always tomorrow." .... but here... tomorrow seemed to promise the same thing indefinately. .... would it be worse to escape back to the US to see Angelina again, even if only for a few weeks... in exchange for his life? The thought sent goosebumps down his arms. It was such a cruel fate.... But to never see her again... never be able to tell her goodbye... His heart ached as his jaw muscles clenched. He loved her. He knew that without a doubt in his mind. She... she was "the one". The thought of trying to move on and see anyone else romantically struck such a dischord with him... Yes, it was still "soon"... but... even a month from now... a year from now... how could he be with someone else without thinking of her? He'd burn those bridges later. He didn't want to think about moving on - certainly not now. Thinking of moving on would mean that he HAD truly given up hope. And he refused. But... what would that hope be? Returning to her unfinished? That was out. It would probably kill him... and that would be even harder on her than to have had him disappear all at once. To come back, late, when she had probably already been told of his death, only to watch him slowly degrade and die in actuality? What... what about after the process was finished? He gulped, that was a scary thought. He had no idea how long it would take.... but... if no more harm could come to him - what if he could escape then? Or - maybe somehow convince them to let him see her. Would... she even accept him? And wouldn't she have moved on by then even if she could see past the fur? It... it could be months... years for all he knew. And he was certain from what Aubrey was saying that he would be reported dead or missing. That thought was painful.... Angelina being told he was gone, when he was still here, and still loved her with all of his heart. Thinking of her taking comfort in someone else's arms....
But... if he really had been dead.... he would want her to be happy. He wouldn't want her to mourn for the rest of her life. They WERE young, and while most people might blow off their relationship as "High School sweethearts"... what they had was real. But... by that argument... what difference was there if he was permanently removed from her and if he was dead - to her at least? .... the pain of he himself knowing that he was still out there and loved her.... Would he mourn her loss the rest of his life? But no - no, he wouldn't give up hope... he couldn't.

He grasped the sides of his head, becoming painfully aware that his mind was just going in circles - not seeing any egress from the situation - any way to make things work save for him never having come to this damn "Study" to begin with.

He couldn't leave before the transformation was complete. He would die. And despite how deeply he wanted to see Angelina again, and the romantic tales of glorified sacrifice for one last look from the knight's fair maiden... He shook his head. But he would ask one more time - once and for all - about the cancer. Just to make sure.

So.... that was that then, wasn't it? He was resigning himself to stay. Stay.... lose his humanity... but - BUT - make DAMN sure he retained what was important. And what was that? His confidence... his morals... his memories - his love. He would never forget her, never stop loving her - even if he didn't see her again. He would keep up his fencing - he loved it... and it was a part of who he was. That ... that was important ... to stay HIM - to not lose that grasp of who he was even if his face changed. He.... he didn't know how bad it would get. Would he look like the Hollywood wolfman? Just more fur? Perhaps a wet nose and bigger claws? or... would it be much worse? Unable to stand upright or grasp objects... No... no - it couldn't be that bad - Aubrey said.... she said they didn't think it would be.

But... why him.... why did it have to be him to lose Angelina... to have chances at being an Olympian dashed.... to finally hear his parents give their approval..... that was who he was too. Those were things he lived for. Who would he be without them...?

Hope. That perhaps would be the most important thing of all. Hope in how he would turn out. Hope that yes - one day - he would see Angelina again - even if he never revealed to her who he was again - hope to see her happy. He would see his parents again... someday... or Did he want that..? They might be horrified... they might show pity... but never pride. He swallowed hard. But he... he had given up hopes of that long ago, hadn't he? He... he just hadn't admitted that. He hadn't let himself think those thoughts. They hadn't understood his goals - they deemed what was important to him not important to them. They loved their first son, Dreu... despite the coward and a*****e he really was under the surface. Why... why did it matter then, if they could laude someone like him with undeseved praises when he KNEW he was underneath a better person. That was the realization that had given him the courage to stand up to them and tell them where they could shove their ideals of him going to Harvard and Medical school. But he had been deceiving himself, even then. While he hadn't spoken with them for over a year now... he was putting all that damn effort to get himself into the Olympics. Why? He said it was because he wanted to be the best. But was that the truth? Perhaps, in a fashion. But the real reason? He wanted recognition. He wanted other people to tell him that he was "good". To tell him he hadn't wasted his life. .... To prove that he was doing the right thing.... to his parents. There was no way they could ignore him then. Or at least that was what he had been silently telling himself all those hours of training. That they could love him and be proud of him for doing something that was truly HIM and not one of the ideals they had forced on him. .... But was that even truthful? When had they said more than a half-hearted "congradulations" for any of the matches he had one? Any of the regionals or qualifiers? .... why would the Olympics be any different? He could hear their voices now "Congradulations. You won a medal in a sport that doesn't even earn you prestige enough to be in commercials. You're good at a sport that is based after an obsolete fighting style that has no application in the real world. You now have some medals to hang on your wall and get dusty. Congradualations." That was the truth of the matter. The bitter truth that he had been obscuring from himself for well over a year now. He had never truly broken away from their shadows... for striving for a goal that was not only unachievable... but a goal that was truly pointless. He was still living his life for another... and that would stop. He still loved them, no doubts there. But... he couldn't live for them anymore. They would always put Dreu first, and he... well... he needed to start putting himself first, and be honest to himself about what HE wanted. Yes, he wanted to go to the Olympics for himself..... but the biggest part had been for his parents. What was left... he could turn his selfish back away from.

Which was what? To be the hero. To be a good person. And he was doing a miserable job of it bemoaning his own problems. The Dude... the dude had more wisdom in his years than he let on. There was much more at stake here than his life. There were 50 duplexes here indeed. 40 more lives that could be shattered as badly or worse than his had been. He... he would try his damndest to make sure that he did everything he could to make sure that no one else was pulled unwillingly into this trap. That was important to him. He would ... he would try to be the hero after all. Help thost that arrived here as best he could.... and keep more from coming. Even if no one outside of the Island could recognize that. Make sure no other lives were ruined....

And maybe.... someday.... get off of this place. After all - there was nothing technically in the rules of fencing that stated you had to be completely human to compete, was there? He actually let a small smile cross his lips.

He had to think positive. Stop crying and be a man. Not roll over like a beaten animal. He was stronger than that.

Cassidy's Change