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[ His eyes snapped open and he sat up all at once. At first, he wasn’t aware that he wasn’t on the cold floor of an old warehouse. He was only aware of the sudden intensity of everything. Smells. Sounds. Light. It all blurred together into a blinding, deafening, dizzying rush. Claws and fangs extended as he let out an involuntary roar.

But as the rush passed, he was left standing in the middle of his room. Naked. Confused. He went straight to the mirror, one clawed hand gripping the edge. He caught his reflection just in time to see the fangs and other newly acquired features features retreating. He’d done it. He’d finally become what he’d been after all along! He was struck with startling color of his eyes. Was it because Derek was the one to bite him? Derek had blue eyes before they’d brought Peter down. But everyone else had yellow. Maybe it was just rare?

He could think about that later. For now, there was something more important to do. He started getting dressed. He was pulling on his jeans as it slowly came together. The important thing he had to do was find Lydia. The key she’d offered to save him. What she'd said to him... But that had been in a warehouse. How was he back here? Where was she? He needed to find everyone else. Get answers. He snatched up his phone from the dresser and stopped. It was a phone, but not his. Those idiots!

Shoving it into his pocket, he headed for the door. Beyond should have been the upstairs hall of his house. The familiar smells of home. But instead he was greeted by the harsh light of the unfamiliar corridor, lined with strange doors. He took a cautious step out of his room, manicured brows furrowing. ]

MCCALL!

[ He called out, confused and angry. But then the smallest note of worry and fear entered his voice as he added...]

Lydia?

[ That fear started to settle in. The strange, unsettling lack of familiarity. He retreated back into his room, slamming the door. Pulling out that phone that wasn't his, he tried to see if there was something he could use on it. Someone to call. And rather quickly, he found the option to broadcast a message... ]

[ Video ]

[ The face that fills the frame is handsome in that douchebag model kind of way. Well, it would be, if he weren’t so incredibly pissed off. ]

I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is, but someone out there is going to give me answers! Derek! MCCALL! I don’t care who! But you’re going to tell me what the HELL is going on and WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THE REST OF MY HOUSE!

[ His seething rage seems to overpower him for a moment, his teeth grinding together. ]

If Stilinski had anything to do with this, he’s DEAD.

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[No. No, no no.

When she hears his voice, her first reaction is to think this is some kind of flood. Some kind of network interference, or mirror barge issue.

But he keeps talking and the way he yells Derek's Scott's and Stiles' name, the way he talks about the rest of his house being gone makes her stomach tighten.

He's there. And he has no idea why.

She takes a deep breath and starts her video, doing her best to keep her expression blank. She can't freak out just yet. She needs to explain it to him first.]

Jackson?

[ Seeing her, just hearing his name from her, is enough to ease off some of that tension. Not entirely, as he was still on the verge of panic. But it brought his anger down enough that he could at least be a little more coherent.

But it was replaced. By a tightness in his chest. What she'd last said to him, now in the clear light of day, frightened him. She'd said it, and he hadn't said it back. But he swallowed that all down. They could worry about that later. ]

What the hell is going on, Lydia?!

[For a second, she just stares at him. That brief talk with him during the glitch never really felt real. Most like a hallucination created by the flood. But he had looked different then. Older.

Right now he looks exactly like he did the last time she saw him and it turns her stomach just to think of when he could be from.

But she needs to focus on helping him, not figuring things out.]

I'll explain everything to you. But you're safe. [For the most part.]

And-- Derek, Stiles and Scott have nothing with you being here, okay? Just tell me the number on your door, I'll come see you.

[ Now that he was starting to calm down a little, he was starting to notice things about her. Was her hair different? Did she look...older, some how? No. She probably just hadn't slept from the night before. But why wasn't she here? With him.

Had anyone else asked for the number, he would have argued and refused. But with him, he just ground his teeth together, and with a huff, he opened the door again. Only when he slammed it again did he return to frame. ]

716. Now will you tell me where the hell I am?

[When he slams the door, she winces, but it has little to do with the noise. Mostly, she's starting to rationalize what this means. Jackson being here, not knowing where he is, what is happening.

He's an inmate. He's stuck here. And how the hell is she supposed to tell him that?

She needs time to figure it out. So even though she's getting up to go see him already, she plans on ending the call before she gets there.]

We're on a ship.

Jackson, I'll explain everything. [Somehow.] Just wait for me there, okay? It will take me a couple of minutes.

[ It took him a moment to force the word out. Practically through clenched teeth. Anyone else would have been verbally ripped apart for saying something like that to him. He didn't like to wait. ]

...FINE.

[ No matter what she said, he was likely to not take it well. He was already confused and unsettled enough. Restless with what little werewolf power he had left. Completely unskilled in handling the intensity of emotion it brought.

There were other things that made him uncomfortable that he had no way of knowing. The lack of presence of the moon was one. The strange smells and sounds of the ship that were just on the edges of his senses. It was uncomfortable, now. But once he had a name to put to these things, it was going to get worse. ]

I'll be right there.

[As she makes the promise a very small hint of a smile appears on her lips that is supposed to be reassuring, then she disconnects the feed and takes a deep breath.

She doesn't give herself time to think about it, she knows she needs to keep it together for this conversation they are about to have. She wishes she'd done this before, that she had experience with breaking the news to someone, that they were a prisoner. That they were an inmate. But she's never done it. And it probably wouldn't matter if she had because it wouldn't have been anyone she cared about.

And she does care about Jackson, she probably always will. She knows him better than most people. She's seen a side of him no one with the exception of Danny, maybe has been allowed to see. She knows him beyond the idiot with the Porsche. She knows the real person behind the image he always tried so hard to keep up. Something no one else, not even the rest of the pack has seen.

As she makes her way to the 7th floor, she manages to take a few deep breaths, to keep herself numb, to steel herself from everything this means. Because she knows he will need her to be strong. And she will need to keep reminding herself she is strong. She's not the girl he knew, having melt downs and running scared. She has been through a lot, she has survived and she can help him through this, too.

She makes her way down the hall, glancing a Stiles' room as she passes it because of course they are right next to each other. Pursing her lips together, she raises a hand and knocks on his door, and then she reaches to open it.]

Jackson? It's me.

Edited 2014-09-22 00:29 (UTC)

[ In the time it took her to get down there, he'd already had an encounter with Stiles, and more than one argument with people on his phone. What they were saying didn't make sense. A prison ship. A prison. But how could it be a prison when his room and his friend were here?

He didn't want to believe it. It was some sort of hallucination. He was still on that cold cement floor, bleeding out. This was some crazy dream before he died. That's why everyone was saying he HAD died. It had to be. There was no other explanation. But why a prison?

"Because you're killing people. To death. Yeah."

That's what Stiles had said to him in the van. The kanima had been responsible for people's deaths. He'd heard them saying that. And he was the kanima. He had been, he corrected himself. He'd murdered--

Lydia's knock and voice derailed that line of thinking before could follow it down any further. Allowing him to cover it with denial. Someone else had killed those people. Too bad he didn't know yet who'd controlled him. He halted his frantic pacing, some of his panic easing off when he heard her voice. He let out a heavy sigh, not turning to greet her. ]

Yeah, come in.

[Lydia makes her way into his room and it's a little jarring how familiar the place feels. She quietly closes the door behind her and studies him.

It's weird, seeing him again. She always imagined what it would feel like. She imagined him coming back to Beacon Hills and she was going to make sure she looked completely perfect, just to remind her what he didn't have anymore. That he broke her heart and how dare he do it twice?

But she doesn't feel an ounce of vengeance in her now. And she never expected these would be the circumstances in which she was going to see him again.

She can tell the anger that was there before seems to be gone and she knows he has to be terrified. She takes a couple of steps toward him, her chest tight no matter how hard she's trying to ignore it.]

Did you talk to anyone else? [She needs to know what he knows first.]

Edited 2014-09-22 15:48 (UTC)

[ He'd managed to keep it all bottled up. Hold most of it back. There'd been barriers to help. A network. A door. Distance. But as he turned to face her, to answer her question, all of that evaporated. It was the opposite of when he lost control of his anger, when it all came rushing in and he had no desire to fight it. But this, it was like it all fell away and he didn't want to stop it. Leaving so much exposed and bare.

He could have hid it again. Gone back behind his indifference. Made some snide comment about his interactions with Stiles or any of the others. But none of them mattered. Because she was here. But for the first time, he had no idea what he should do. What she'd said to him, what she'd done for him. He wanted to rush to her. To pull her into his arms and never let go. Because then this nightmare would be over. But what if it was true that everyone was from different times? What if...she didn't feel that way anymore.

He was left just standing there. Staring. Uncertain and silent. ]

[She doesn't expect that reaction, that look on his face. So open, it hurts. She's only seen him looking at her like that once and it was right before he died in her arms. He came back, yes, but for a moment that felt like eternity to her, it was real. He was gone.

But it's clear to her that he's scared. She knows most, if not all inmates come in after their deaths. Jackson died twice that night. He has to be from then...

Lydia takes a deep breath and a step forward, careful even though she has absolutely no doubt that he would never hurt her. She's careful mostly because she doesn't want him to be uncomfortable.]

Whatever they told you, we'll figure it out.

[ He had to look away from her, looking toward the floor, to the side. Trying to focus. Hands clenched at his sides. He wanted to reach for her. But if what every one was saying as true, if time was different and she didn't feel that way... The idea of her pulling away frightened him more than anything else anyone had told him.

Slowly, he managed to steel himself. To gain some focus. But still he didn't look at her. Forcing some measure of strength into his voice so he didn't sound as pathetic as he felt. ]

Where are we. Really.

[Lydia looks away from him when he does, taking a moment to take a deep breath. She clasps her hands together and takes a deep breath then focuses on him. She needs to tell him what he needs to know, the basics. And from the way he's asking the question she assumes he already has some idea.]

We're on a ship. In space. A prison. [It sounds ridiculous, but they've both seen plenty of unbelievable things by now.]

If someone told you that, they were telling you the truth.

[ He looked like he was going to be sick. Or he might cry. Either way, his teeth clenched hard, lips pressing into a firm line. Hands clenching into fists so tight his arms trembled.

But he kept his eyes fixed on the floor. Just focusing on one breath after the next. If that was true, what of everything else people had said while he waited for her? All that he'd tossed out as lies and bullshit?

Suddenly, his gaze snapped to her face. His expression hard as stone. Struggling to keep himself contained. ]

Why am I here, Lydia?

[She's not ready for that question yet. Especially not when she can see how his expression changes, when he looks at her like he's barely holding on. Like he might explode at any second.

Although Lydia opens her mouth to answer the question, she can't get the words out. She doesn't know how to tell him. She purses her lips together and holds his gaze, taking another step toward him.]

Jackson. What is the last thing you remember from home?

[ And just as she feared, that strained grip faltered and his control broke. Her question triggering reaction. But he didn't explode. Quite the opposite. He seemed to crumble. He took a slow step back. His weight dropping onto the bed when he bumped into it. Fingers gripped the edge with a white-knuckled grip. Eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold back the flood that threatened to escape. ]

I...

[ ...remember dying. Sacrificing himself to save everyone from what he'd become. So no one else could control him. So no one would die. He remembered two different voices giving him orders. One gentle and firm. One screaming demands. "Kill them all." The words rang clear, even without knowing how he could remember it, or who the voice belonged to. He remembered Derek's claws. And someone else. Someone behind him. He remembered being terrified. ]

...I remember...you kept the key...

[ The words sounded weak to his hears, and he couldn't say anymore. Swallowing hard as some of that flood escaped his eyelids. ]

[Lydia-- almost gasps when she sees his reaction. It feels like someone is reaching inside her chest, her heart feels tight and she has no reaction to him at first. She has never seen Jackson like this before. Has never see him so... broken.

Somehow, she's keeping herself together. For him. She's strong enough now. She has to be. She takes a couple more steps forward and stops directly in front of him. She remembers stopping in front of him, holding up the key. She was terrified, but at the time, it didn't matter. She had to do it for him. Just like she does now.]

You remember the warehouse?

[ Slowly, he just shook his head. Not out of disbelief or a negative answer, but because he couldn't remember. Is that where they'd been? He remembered it was cold. The floor was hard. A lot of open space and the air seemed stale. But he'd only really been aware of her. And those claws. And everyone looking at him. ]

I...I think so. Did...

[ Did you mean it? Did you still feel it? Did you still want me? ]

...did they kill me?

[Her face crumbles a little, for one second. But she takes a deep breath and pulls herself together. And then nods. She wants to reach out to him, to offer some comfort but she's afraid of how he will react. It's been so long and she's changed so much. And Jackson is coming out of something that literally changed him in so many ways.]

They did. Derek and Peter. [She has to stop for another deep breath. She closes her eyes for a second because she can still remember it. His body going limp in her arms, growing heavy and still. Lydia closes her eyes for a second and shakes her head.]

But you came back. Jackson. You are here and you came back back home, too. As yourself. As a werewolf. The bite took, you healed and you were okay. [These are the only good news she'll be able to offer him.]

[ He heard barely half of what she said. Because at that second name, the room lost pressure. He could deny what scraps of memory told him. That last fight before she showed him the key, as Gerard's control faltered, starting to come together. Fragmented and scattered. He knew, vaguely, who'd all been involved. Hazy impressions of who he'd attacked. But there was one face among it all that he thought had to be wrong. Something that was old that had gotten mixed in.

But in hearing her say it. Confirm a fear that he hadn't even acknowledged yet to himself. It was like the floor fell out from beneath him. He'd helped kill Peter himself. For what he'd done to Lydia. The night of the dance. The event that eared him the bite.

He tried to refuse it. She had to be wrong. Finally he looked at her. Confusion and determination settling over his shattered facade. ]

Peter's dead.

[ There was conviction in his voice. Maybe she was thinking of a different time. She had to. ]

[At first she doesn't understand why he'd think that. Why he'd assume Peter was still dead. And then she understands. His memories from his time as the Kanima must have been suppressed. He probably doesn't remember being it at all, he didn't back then. Stiles told her as much when he explained everything to her after Jackson left for London.

Just like her own memories under Peter's influence were hazy at first. For weeks, they felt like dreams. But now they are clear and sharp. She hopes it's not the case with Jackson. She hopes he never remembers any of it.]

Peter's alive. He came back too, Jackson.

[Because of her. Because he made her bring him back. Because of what she is. And it suddenly hits her that Jackson doesn't know about any of that either. But he doesn't need to hear about it right now.]

[ NO.

It couldn't be true. Peter was dead. He'd been there when it happened. He'd made it possible. It had been his shot that brought the monstrous alpha to the ground. His fingers dug hard at the mattress, a tightness settling into his chest. The video store. The night in the school. All of those terrifying events before he got the bite. Everything Peter had done. Those had been the claws in his back? He felt like he was going to be sick.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to reign himself in. Shaking his head. Denying it all. Peter couldn't be alive. ]

HOW?

[ He had to force the word out. It sounded strained still. But as he said it, he opened his eyes again. Looking up at her. He needed to know how the alpha had survived that. ]

[She knows the feeling. That panic that comes with knowing Peter is out there. Again. Still. She's been feeling like that all over again since Jerry showed up. But he has enough trauma to deal with as is.]

It doesn't matter. [She hesitates then sits down next to him, looking at him as she does. She's not close enough that they are touching, but she is closer than she probably should be.

She could ignore the barge, the fact that he's an inmate, everything that comes with it, and focus on Peter. But there's too much he needs to know. And it's better if he hears from her.]

I'll explain everything to you, Jackson. But not right now. He's not here. We're all safe from him.

[ He just stared at the floor. Trying to get his breathing under control. It was a familiar feeling. He'd had it in his personal practice often enough. That frantic feeling of absolute failure. But he couldn't let even Lydia see that. What it did to him. He wanted to break something. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. Anything to get that feeling out of his chest.

Instead, his teeth ground together. He locked it down. Forced it back where it belonged. Her being so close, close enough that he could just barely feel her warmth. Could pick up on the scent that was so distinctly her. One slow breath after another and he was able to reign it in. And soon, he was able to return to something resembling coherency. ]

Then explain.

[ His voice was tight. Barely controlled. ]

[Lydia still doesn't want to. Doesn't quite know how to explain, how to word things to make it easier on him because there is no easier.

With her hands clasped over her lap, she takes a deep breath and looks down at them for a long moment, preparing herself before turning to look at him. She knows it's important that she focuses on him as she talks because he won't take this well. How could he.]

We're on the Barge. A prison ship. We're traveling through space and there are people here from all kinds of universes. There are a lot of people from home here. Stiles, Scott, Allison, Erica, Isaac and a girl named Kira that you've never met.

Some of the people come here because they make deals with the man in charge, the Admiral. So he can give them something or change something in their world.

Some people are brought here because they need to work through things they have done.

[She keeps her voice calm and even as she explain, but she knows Jackson won't be content with that, he will want specifics. still she can prepare him as much as possible before using the words Warden and Inmate.]

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