Sui Generis – 55

 

At the same time the others were talking about him, Lew woke, uncertain where he was. The last thing he remembered was a desperate need to leave the clinic before Randulf was healed enough to shift into his human form. He had no desire to face him and see the return of the hatred in his eyes now that the assignment was over.

Although partially recovered from the battle with Alanna, Lew knew he was still too weak to have gone very far. Easing himself up, he stood on three legs, keeping any weight off the fourth, and moved his head gingerly. His neck hurt but it was bearable.

Still, a few more hours of sleep are called for. The thing is, am I somewhere safe enough to do so?    

Limping, favoring his foreleg, he began to explore his surroundings. There was a desk, bookshelves, and two armchairs—none of which looked familiar.

And yet it has to be somewhere I've at least picked out of someone's mind or I couldn't have come here.

He sniffed and discovered scents he recognized.

How the hell? Maybe…? Yeah, when Mag said he and Brand has to go home after our—talk. He said he'd spend the evening studying, probably so he wouldn't worry too much while we were out looking for Alanna. Guess this is where he was going to do it.

Relieved that he hadn't ended up somewhere where he'd be found by Antton—or worse yet, Randulf—he went back to where he'd awakened, in the shadows behind one of the armchairs. Curling up, his head resting on his three good legs and his injured foreleg stretched out to keep any pressure off of it, he fell asleep again.

*****

"Can't you, I don't know, track where he went somehow?" Mag asked Antton.

"Not when he teleported. If he'd left on two feet, or four, it might have been possible, but he didn't. Believe me, we checked."

"Why are you so worried about him?" Randulf asked Mag.

Mag looked at him as if he couldn't believe he'd even ask. "Because he's a friend and he's hurt."

"A friend wouldn't leave without letting one of us know where he was going."

Mag marched over to stand in front of Randulf, glowering at him. "He would if he thought someone he cared about hated him."

Randulf snorted. "He doesn't care about me, if that's what you're implying. There's only one person Lew thinks is worth his time. Himself. And for your information, I don't hate him."

"Yeah, you do." Mag spun around to look at the others. "You all do. Or at least—" he tempered his words, "—you dislike him."

Ulrik gave a small nod. "He's not easy to like."

"Because you never gave yourselves a chance to get to know him! You're glad he's gone now, so you can move on to… to the next problem."

"Not true," Randulf said quietly. "I gave him a chance. I gave him several chances and he blew them."

"So now he's past history and you're fine with that."

"Yes, Mag, I am. I hope he's alright. In fact, I'm sure he is. He's gone to ground somewhere. He'll heal and go on with his life the way he always has. Selfishly."

Mag watched Randulf as he spoke and thought he saw something in his expression that said the man didn't really want it to be that way. There was a look of loss and yearning in his eyes.

He's lying. To me—and more importantly—to himself. But I'm not calling him on it.

"Then I guess that's it," Mag said tightly. "I'm glad you're alright. I'm sure I… we'll be seeing you again. Brand, let's go home."

Antton held up a hand to stop them. "Ulrik's taking Brand out for more training."

"Of course he is," Mag replied sourly. Stopping just long enough to hug Brand, he said, "Have fun. I'll see you when you get home," and walked out of the room.