It took the pack forever to realize he was missing. Britt was often at work or out clubbing with Ajax, the boy was popular and had a busy life so it was no worry when he and a few others didn't show up for a pack meeting but Sawyer knew. He'd felt a sudden rush of panic, followed by his entire body blooming with hurt. He had text his lover, and there had been no reply. Britt always replied. He never left Sawyer waiting.
Something was wrong.
Sawyer had gone to his mother and father first, who had reasoned that maybe the boys phone had died, or he was busy at the moment.
It wasn't good enough for Sawyer. He went to Jesse next, persistent that they begin searching.
Jesse took his words more seriously, but still decided to give Britt time to come around before deeming the boy officially missing.
It just wasn't good enough. Sawyer knew better. It had been hours since he'd left that text and several calls. He bitterly believes that if it was anyone but Britt missing, everyone would take him more seriously. They all merely assumed Britt was off partying, they didn't know him.
They didn't know
Sawyer went looking for himself, but came up empty. Britt was nowhere to be found, and his favorite things were still lying among their home. His keys with a protective knuckle guard and a keychain with their picture. They went with the boy everywhere and yet they had not moved all day. This did not make Sawyer feel better. It left his chest hollow with fear.
Sawyer took to calling hospitals, checking everyone in the city for a patient under the name of Britt Vause but his mate wasn't in any of them. They had no record of anyone with that name.
Another more thorough search of the home and Sawyer found Britt's phone. This was the point of no return. Britt had that phone in his hands all day every day. There would be no plausible reason for Sawyer to be finding it forgotten among their bed sheets.
Britt had never even gotten his messages. They were all marked unread, unseen, missed.
Ajax shared in his growing alarm. The boy was helping him make calls and offering to drive around all their usual hangouts. It wasn't enough. Britt had vanished and nothing would ever be enough.
The more Sawyer refused to stop looking, the uneasier the pack became. And finally, ten hours after Sawyer had initial came to them, the pack was starting to understand that they couldn't find him anywhere.
After a final head count, it was Britt, Parker, Cameron and Anderson they noted as missing. Eleven hours after Sawyer's initial panic the pack began searching themselves.
A day later and Britt was still gone. Sawyer had searched half the town, and without resting he swore to search all the rest.
Three days later and Sawyer had gone everywhere. He saw Britt's face whenever he closed his eyes, beautiful and broken, terrified and alone with the sick bastard who'd taken him. Sawyer wouldn't sleep, couldn't sleep. Britt was everywhere and nowhere.
Six days had passed. The hospitals know Sawyer by name now, as they each speak to him multiple times a day. They are all on high alert for a patient by the name of Britt Vause. The entire town knows the boys face. Sawyer still hasn't slept yet. He dozed off for ten minutes on their doorstep and dreamed that he had finally found his mate, He had finally found him but Britt was cold and lifeless. His blood was on the floor and he was gone, gone, gone.
Sawyer no longer knew the day. He was running on pure willpower and determination, the ache for his mate the only thing keeping him on his feet. Ajax worries that Sawyer will run himself into the ground, and when Britt does finally come home there will be nothing waiting for him.
Half a month has passed, and Law is praying over lit cigarettes. He had disliked Britt from the beginning and he'd wished the boy gone many times but this was getting out of hand.
Someone at the tattoo parlour mentioned replacing Britt after so much time. Sawyer had over heard and it took five men to pull his fingers from around the stranger's throat. He couldn't process all this suffering. Someone had taken Britt from him and they'd gotten away. He had known something was wrong but he wasn't fast enough.
When they finally figure out a location, Sawyer is terrified. He could hear Britt's heart beating but he had imagined burying the boy with his own two hands. He had dreamed it and it could happen and that grief was all consuming. He wanted to hope that he would find his lover in good health, but Sawyer knew better. He'd felt pain through their bond, all day, everyday. His hands had began aching a while ago and never stopped. That could mean permanent damage, and he'd done nothing to stop it.
As it turned out, Sawyer was right about the boy's hands. They found Britt missing a finger, his ring finger. The others had been crushed as well, sitting twisted in odd angles, palms swollen and blue. Sawyer didn't want to look, but he couldn't pull his eyes away. This was his fault. He'd failed and Britt payed the price for it.
Sawyer had sworn that the first thing he'd do was get his hands on the man responsible, but the guy was already gone and Sawyer couldn't bare to leave Britt. The boy had never been so hurt, physically, emotionally.
Sawyer had numbly noted his mates lack of clothing, the bruising at his hips and thighs.
Britt had survived physically, but emotionally Sawyer wasn't sure how much of his mate was still there. Britt was not always innocent, but he was always in control. This man had taken that, and Sawyer wasn't sure if Britt could ever get it back.
------
It took years, but Britt healed. Law had completed twenty five surgeries in order to restore function in the boy's hands, using specialized plates and bolts to rebuild their structure. Britt would never be the same, but he still had hands, even minus the finger Law hadn't been able to salvage. His body was his again, but no amount of time would ever cure the emotional damage Kirk had left him with. Sex with Sawyer used to be his favorite thing, and he'd come up with new techniques and positions weekly. Now though sex wasn't something they did frequently. Britt wanted it, but he was never truly comfortable. Many times he'd stop them in the middle of lovemaking with a panic attack. Sawyer took it well, he'd hold Britt if the boy would allow it, and if not Sawyer still stayed close. If Britt locked himself away in the bathroom, Sawyer was always sitting with his back against the door.
And nightmares-
It was an every night occurrence. Some are worse than others, he wakes kicking in screaming, or he lays in silence, unable to move.
Sawyer is always there. He doesn't let Britt out of his sight anymore. Sometimes Britt hates him for it, but mostly he's grateful.
Tonight, he was grateful.
"Britt." Sawyer's voice seems to come from far away, almost unreal. The boy knows better than to reach out and grab hold of him, Sawyer had tried that before and came away with a blackened eye. Britt reacted violently to hands on him now, a far cry from the way they used to give comfort. The boy needs an anchor, he's swimming alone in the despair of his dreams. Britt thinks his eyes are closed but he sees Kirk hovering over him, body moving in steady thrusts. He can smell blood, heavy and thick, mingling with the sickening musk of sweat. He sees a bat, raised over his head and coming steadily towards him. He clenches his hands and prepares for impact.
He needs something.
It comes, a palm resting on his heaving chest. "Open your eyeth, Britt."
He can't. They are glued shut. The hands presses deeper into him, but instead of hurting, it makes breathing easier. He finds that strange, but to be expected. Sawyer is speaking. "Britt, open your eyes. It'th me."
Finally, Britt does and everything swims until he can finally make out the outline of Sawyer's working jaw, the golden green eyes staring him down. The pressure of his hands does not leave Britt's chest until the boy gathers up enough energy and shoves enough panic down to say "Fuck."
Sawyer's hand leaves and grabs a pack of cigarettes from the bedside table. Its a bad habit he'd picked up while Britt was away, and still something he does in the wake of stress. He flicks on the lamp, pulls out a cigarette and goes to the window. He wont leave Britt alone, but he won't smoke near him either. He lights it, takes a slow drag and refuses to look away from the window. Britt needs time to collect himself, and Sawyer is giving him privacy.
He can only do this for so long though. Eventually he is back to staring at his mate, eyes tracing every inch of the boy to assure that he was truly alright.
"You're thaking." Sawyer observes, blowing a puff of smoke out from his lips.
"Sorry." Britt doesn't know why he says it. The word used to be a rarity for him, but now it comes as easily as breathing. He tries to ignore it, and instead focuses on Sawyer's lisp. The boy is gorgeous, shirtless and perched in their windowsill. He wants to take advantage of it, but Kirk had robbed him of the ability to enjoy spontaneous sex.
"Why are you thorry?" Sawyer says. It doesn't warrant an answer. He's used to it by now. Britt watches the burning end of the werewolf's cigarette, and then the shifting muscles of Sawyer's bare back as he rises from his perch. The boy puts his cigarette out and shuts the window. He likes it open, so a breeze can get in. Britt cant sleep with it open, he's afraid of what else might come in.
Sawyer doesn't blame him.
He doesn't ask Britt what he was dreaming of when they finally lay back down. He believes that he knows. But his hands come to guide Britt closer, asking silent permission to touch the boy. He doesn't ask him what he dreamt of when his hands begin tracing the scars on Britt's palms. His fingers trail up the boy's arms and over his chest, lips pressing against Britt's cheek. He doesn't ask when Britt finally breathes easy enough to feel himself slipping, falling asleep. Sawyer doesn't ask, and Britt doesn't stir the rest of the night, or dream of anything at all, doesn't wake until the morning. The window is closed but the blinds are open, wide enough to let in the morning sunlight, and Sawyer is sleeping by his side. For once, all is right in the world.
