Gideon leaned back in the van’s seat and quietly went through his mail a third time, unwilling to talk. It appeared that Dr. Brown had been the beginning. After the grocery stores and the promised stop at the candy store, Savannah had stayed in the parking lot for an hour and sorted things into different piles. Then they’d started delivering things to different families, all werewolves, and he’d gone quiet as the adults tried not to tear up and hugged Savannah and by extension came over and hugged him.

The children, the ones who weren't in school, swooped up the little prizes of pencils and candy and such with such happiness on their faces and ran off with them. He promised to himself never to tease Savannah about three grocery stores ever again. They’d ended up back at the Clarks. The Clarks had been a bit shocked, and Outlaw had been set to get huffy when Savannah said this was to fill up the empty spaces and Clara about burst into tears.

Gideon had quietly nudged Outlaw up to the roof to check on the progress and let the women sort through emotions. They didn’t seem to be missing his help too much on the roof and he wasn’t missing the sun. He stayed up there until Savannah shouted for him. The guys had teased him as he’d headed down the ladder. They stopped when Savannah had said in a tart voice that they could help her instead of Gideon.

The silence had been deafening actually.

She promised though that this would be the last stop and then she’d swing him back to his apartment.

Savannah slowed down in front of long lot that he could see maybe the top three feet of the house over a six foot unpainted, unstained, wooden fence. The top foot of the fence was lattice. The fence was built in eight-foot sections with decorative posts. He could see what looked like an arbor covered in bushy greenery with big red flowers and assumed that was where the gate was. Tall trees towered above the fence looking like they’d been there for at least a hundred years and the fence was an interloper. Part of the fence flickered out of existence and he could see an actual physical auto sized gate pulling backwards. Savannah turned the van into the driveway and shut it off. She reached down and grabbed her new plant, hugging it to her chest with one hand as she got out.

Gideon slowly got out and looked around. The house was once a slightly sprawling one story set in the front left hand corner of the lot, like someone had tugged it over from the middle or this was supposed to be two lots and not one. There wasn’t anyone there to greet them and the windows on the house were mirrored. He shut the door slowly. He tried to get a feel for the place.

Plants, there were plants everywhere, all of them in pots, big ones, little ones, short, tall, and in between. They sat nestled against the house on a foot of gravel. They were in formations under the trees or in groupings near the fence and tucked around what looked to be large sandstone spheres of different sizes. The pots were all the same color scheme and they were like the one Savannah had bought at the hardware store, a light tan, terracotta, and copper with hints of blue.

Ferns and wild grasses predominated. There were wild violets, hollyhocks, gladiolus, wild daises and daylilies. The burgundy red and the black hollyhocks were on their way towards being taller than the roof. There were plants he didn’t know the names of, two types of spear looking flowers, one with bells, one with flower clusters. There were tall puffy lavender globes and another type of flower that made globes but in a deep burgundy. Dark purple they looked black exotic flowers pushed their heads out of the grasses.

The small front gate had two trellis style towers to each side of it covered in the large red trumpet flowers that went up over the arbor. The flowers all had the same color scheme, white, dark red, wine, black or purple. The daylilies however were a salmon pink that somehow still managed to blend in with the rest of it.

And then there were the trees he’d noticed from the outside, white paper birches and the type of spruce tree that grew everywhere in the Black Hills. And then there were those he hadn’t seen because they weren’t tall. In the middle of the front yard in a raised bed surrounded by plants in pots was a small ornamental tree that looked for the world like an umbrella. There was another ornamental tree on the left hand side of the house, but he didn’t know the name of it. The lawn, what there was of it, was mowed and raked. There wasn’t a sidewalk in sight.

It was like stepping into a woodland forest. It smelled like a woodland forest, pine, green things, and flowers. And with all the plants, it looked smaller on the inside, cozier. Something inside him relaxed. He wouldn’t mind spending some time here poking his nose among the ferns. He looked at the house.

The flowers and plants looked bright and cheerful against the paint. Otherwise, the house looked shabby to his eyes. A rectangular box slapped into the middle of a woodland glen. It was in good repair, the gutters were clean, the roof looked whole, but the light yellow paint of the house was faded, dusty, cracked, and chipped. The shutters hung a bit lopsided. The windows hadn’t been washed in a while. There wasn’t a porch, though the door had a step upwards like someone had been planning one and had never gotten around to it.

It didn’t fit with the yard. It didn’t match the personality of the carefully tended flowers. And he couldn’t quite put a finger on why it didn’t fit.

Savannah reached inside her kutte. She went up to the garage door and pressed something against it and there were a few beeps before the door moved upwards.

Gideon turned around, still not sure where they were.

The garage door opened all the way. Inside, looking rather small and lonely in the space meant for a large truck was a single motorcycle, more plants, and dirt filled pots that might have once held plants, plenty of tools in and out of toolboxes, motorcycle parts, and memorabilia. Savannah went to the inside door and unlocked it. “You can bring the bags into the kitchen,” she said.

Gideon started. This was her house? “You did your grocery shopping?” he asked. His eyes widened.

Savannah stopped. She didn’t have another vehicle outside the motorcycle. And was there a better time to do it? She was there wasn’t she? “Yep.” She opened the door and went inside.

Gideon stared after her. Was she insane? And how had she managed to do that while he hadn’t noticed? He sighed and went to the back of the van, opened it, and grabbed a few bags. It wasn’t a bad idea really, he admitted. Though he did have an auto. He juggled the bags and carried them into the kitchen.

He set them on the table. The kitchen looked normal and cheery, a flowery stenciled motif on the walls. The walls were painted a warm pastel blue with ivory cupboards. There was a door between the kitchen and the rest of the house door and it was shut. He couldn’t see any further. The paint on the cupboards looked old too. He couldn’t tell if it was actual ivory paint or the white had aged that color. Savannah stood by the sink fussing over the plant, the low orange sun hitting her face. She finished and set it on the counter. “Are there many more bags?” she asked.

“Um…” he said. “Not that many.”

She dusted her hands off and walked out the door. He turned around and followed her. She grabbed a couple of bags and he grabbed the last ones that he figured were hers and the bag of dirt.

“Would you put the dirt in the garage?” she asked. “There’s a shelf for it in the back right hand corner.”

“Sure,” he replied.

“If you have a hard time finding it, it will be right in front of your nose,” she said in a tone that was halfway teasing and mostly serious. “Thanks.”

He narrowed his eyes at her back. What was she implying now? He went to the back right hand corner.

“Wait!” Savannah stuck her head out the door. “Left hand. Left! Dirt and left have the same number of letters,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Right, left, make up your mind,” he said.

“Left.”

“Right.” He paused. “Correct,” he amended.

Savannah sighed, came out, and grabbed the groceries out of his arms. “The left corner, please.”

He grinned at her, hefted the bag of dirt over his shoulder, and went to the opposite side of the garage. He found the shelf without any problems, put the dirt on it, and wiped his shoulder off with his hand. He went into the kitchen. Savannah was putting perishables into the fridge and freezer. She finished, pulled something out of one of the bags, and tucked it away in her kutte before he could see what it was.

“Ready to go home?” she asked.

What, no tour? He half smiled at her. “I guess.”

She rolled her eyes and waved him out the door, shutting it behind her and locking it. They got back in the van and she drove him back to his apartment, not that he recognized anything until they got a block away from the building. She pulled into the parking lot next to his auto and turned to him. “Thank you for helping today,” she said and her tone was sincere. She pulled out what she’d put in her kutte and handed it to him.

He eyed it. It was a bag of little foiled chocolates. “Is this bribery?”

“It’s a reward.” She shook the bag. “I can eat them if you don’t want them.” She could always eat chocolate. Sometimes she craved it for months at a time.

He grinned and took the bag. “You’re welcome,” he said and opened the door and grabbed his plates. If he hurried, he could get the old ones off and these on before the post office closed. He paused. “There’s still stuff in the back.”

“Someone will come pick up and unload the van later tonight,” Savannah said. “I’ll see you at Clarks tomorrow and you should probably get training in, in the afternoon.”

He nodded. “I will. Good night, Savannah,” he said and shut the door.

Savannah sighed. That hadn’t gone too badly. She put the van into gear and pulled out and contrary to what she told Gideon, she headed towards the Club. She’d promised Brand a report and Poppy would want to see the new toys. She hoped the pups wouldn’t pop them quickly this time. They got excited!

Savannah grinned and tapped her fingers on the wheel. Maybe next week, she’d actually play some music in the van. As long as they didn’t have war over it. She’d win. She didn’t think the prospect would like it if she won too often.

---

Once Gideon had gotten to his auto, he hadn’t felt like going back to his empty apartment. He hadn’t felt like putting on the plates. He dumped everything in the passenger seat and got in, starting it up. He should get dinner. He backed out of the lot and got onto the road, choosing a direction at random until he got to a light. A glance at the passenger seat and the pile of mail he had there reminded him all too acutely that he had a decision to make. He drove randomly around town and when that didn’t make him feel any better, he pulled into Zeke’s and shoved the gear stick into park.

It was early yet, but the bar was open and the security guy stood outside, smoking a cigarette and lounging against the wall. Gideon got out, locked his doors, and with a glance at the sign headed towards the bar.

“Knew you’d find your way back, Prospect,” the security guy said.

Gideon rocked on his heels and took a second look at the security guy. He blinked. He wore the kutte of the Club over a t-shirt with a large Zeke’s logo on it. “Yeah,” he said in a daze.

The guy waved him through the door.

Gideon went on through, his brow furrowed. Why was there a guy in a Heathen’s kutte acting like a security guard for a random bar downtown? He didn’t get it. The Club had their own bar, which looked fairly similar to this one. The Club bar had more of a back woods feel to the industrial garage feel of Zeke’s, but overall they were pretty similar. He sat down on one of wooden stools that were attached to the front of the bar, realized whoever had it before him had to have been shorter. He got off, turned it down a few notches on the big screw, and sat back down.

Zeke leaned on the other side of the concrete topped bar looking amused. “What can I get you?” He had a clean white towel draped over his shoulder.

“Bourbon,” Gideon said and pulled out his wallet.

Zeke nodded. He poured Gideon a small glass of bourbon over a spherical piece of ice and headed down the bar. Gideon looked at it, but didn’t pick it up, twisting it around with his fingers.

Today had been confusing. Savannah brought him breakfast and gone over the laws with him. The club had a lot of laws. Then, she’d turned around and driven them all over town to run a bunch of errands that hadn’t made any sense until they’d started delivering the goods to different families. She’d taken the time to stop so that he could pick up his mail and get his plates from the police station. He could have done that himself. He twisted the glass again. Then, he’d be able to put the decision off a few days if he could make the excuse he hadn’t had time to go get the plates. His gut clenched. Putting a decision off for a few days felt like a good idea.

Ted helping him with the paperwork to become a Colorado citizen. Savannah taking the time to pick up the results of that paperwork, things were going way too fast.

Zeke came back. The bar wasn’t full yet, he wasn’t busy. “You gonna drink that or are you goin’ to let the ice water it down?” he said, his voice a strained tenor.

Gideon jerked his head up and half-smiled. He took a sip.

Zeke pretended to wipe down the bar. “You’re new around here.”

“That obvious?”

“Kutte gives it away. Sides, when a man lives in one place all his life, he gets to know the regulars in a town this big,” Zeke observed and glanced around his bar. He narrowed his eyes at Gideon. “Eb brought you in the other night, must have been right after church.”

Gideon blinked. “The officer’s meeting.”

“It’s called church,” Zeke said offhandedly. “Though Savannah doesn’t always call it that since she says it’s too confusing.” He paused. “And it makes it sound like the club never goes to church on Sunday.”

“Not as confusing as she is,” Gideon muttered.

Zeke laughed. “That’s Savannah.”

Gideon decided since he had the attention of the owner, he could ask his question. “You always have a club member guard the door?”

Zeke shrugged. “Most bars around these parts hire Heaven Has Mercy for security work. I’m the one that lets them wear their kuttes. That way no one will have any misunderstandings about what type of bar they’re headed into. It makes them happy and keeps those who don’t have the stomach for my type of establishment out. Though we do get the idiots on occasion.”

Gideon grinned. “Idiots?”

“Military types, think that they’re better than the rest of us.”

“As a former military type, I should take offense. As a newly minted one of the rest of you, I can see your side of it.” Gideon smirked and took another sip of bourbon.

Zeke laughed again. “Which branch?”

“New York doesn’t have branches as such, they decided I was too good for infantry work and moved my ass into Special Forces.”

Zeke whistled. “And now you’re here wearing that kutte,” He shook his head. “Guard duty might be a little too tame for you after that excitement.”

Gideon snorted. “I could use less excitement.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Too much of it is what forced me out and landed me here.”

“That’s not what got you watering down my good bourbon,” Zeke said. “Something’s on your mind.”

Gideon grimaced. He picked up the top of the glass by the tips of his fingers and shook it a little to get the ice sphere to rattle around it.

“Hey, you don’t have to talk about it,” Zeke said. “You had that look on your face is all.”

Gideon winced. He didn’t like being that easy to read.

Eberron snuck up behind him and, with a wink at Zeke, draped an arm over Gideon’s shoulders. “Prospect!” he said. “You survived your first day with Savannah. That definitely calls for a drink. Wise choice.”

Gideon relaxed a little. This was a much easier topic to talk about. He turned his head and frowned at Eberron. “I didn’t see you volunteering.”

Reese leaned up against the bar on Gideon’s other side, hemming him in. “Ted usually has a rotation.”

Eberron smirked at Zeke. “This is Savannah’s new chew toy.”

Reese continued. “Not that a rotation matters anymore.”

Gideon glowered at Eberron. “I’m not a chew toy.”

Eberron smirked at Zeke. “Also known as her new prospect.” He glanced at Gideon. “You are whatever she says you are,” he said. “Though chewing might not come into her mind.”

Reese and Zeke choked. Zeke set a couple of beers on the bar for Eberron and Reese.

Gideon decided to repeat what he said earlier. “I didn’t see any of you volunteering.” He took a sip of bourbon and raised his eyebrows. “In fact, when she said you could help her instead, you all got mighty quiet. Almost like you were hiding.”

Zeke’s jaw dropped. “Oh,” he said. “Ow.”

“Evidently, she hasn’t put you through the wringer enough yet if you think we were hiding,” Eberron said.

“It’s called strategic silence in hopes she won’t notice you,” Reese said. “But now that you’re here, we all don’t have to worry as much.”

Gideon swung about to look at him, Eberron’s arm slipped off of his shoulders. He understood he was new around here and didn’t know a lot of things, which had already ended with a trip to Africa and getting shot at, but he didn’t know what Reese was going on about and he thought it might be important. “Worry?” he growled.

“Like I said, no more rotation, less Ted and Savannah arguments, and no more drawing straws.” Reese smirked at him and took a pull off of his beer.

“Chew toy,” Eberron said in Gideon’s ear.

Gideon had already felt like he was on soggy ground and that soggy ground was quickly turning into a marsh. “Meaning?”

Reese smirked. “Don’t make plans on Wednesday unless it is after dinner.”

Eberron half-grinned. “Unless she starts dragging him to Wednesday evening service.”

“True that.”

“She does this every week?” Gideon breathed out. He felt like he was sinking into a bog or maybe it was quick sand.

“He learns quickly,” Eberron said.

“Maybe there is hope for him,” Reese replied.

Both paused to think about it. “Nah.”

Zeke shut his eyes. “You are in so much trouble,” he muttered.

Gideon scrambled for a way to turn this around. He’d gotten breakfast and lunch, but that might be considered normal. He tried for dignity. “I got a cupcake, a tart, a trip to the candy store,” he said. “And she gave me chocolate.”

Plus, she’d been wearing a miniskirt and leaning over unintentionally flaunting her ass at him, or at least he thought it was unintentional. But, he wasn’t about to say that to Reese or Eberron. If they didn’t like Savannah’s ass or didn’t know about the miniskirt, he wasn’t about to point it out.

Zeke laughed. Reese snorted and had to set his beer down. Eberron stroked his chin.

Reese saw a new opportunity for teasing, once he got himself under control. “What cupcake did Flossie give you?”

Gideon edged away from him. That sounded like a trick question. “That’s not important.” His eyes narrowed. “And how did you know we went to see Flossie?”

“Because like Zeke here, Savannah and Flossie went to school together,” Reese retorted. “And Flossie is Club. The rest of us had to suffer the first experiments of her baking by being in close proximity.”

Eberron rumbled, “Speak for yourself.”

“She’s gotten much better,” Reese said.

“You know those were for your dogs, right?” Eberron asked him.

“If they were for the dogs, she shouldn’t have given them to me and said they were cupcakes,” Reese exploded.

“They weren’t that bad,” Eberron muttered.

Reese couldn’t say what he wanted to say, since the cupcake Eberron had actually ate was as a wolf. He glowered at his friend and decided it was past time to return the conversation to Gideon. “What did she give you?”

Gideon eyed him. “I don’t have to answer that question.”

“If you continue to avoid it, we’ll assume it’s something girly and fruity or Savannah’s favorite,” Reese pointed out.

The back of Gideon’s ears turned red.

“Savannah’s favorite.” Reese stared at him. “You puppy, are doomed.”

“I still got a cupcake,” Gideon growled and turned back to the bar. He met Zeke’s eyes. Zeke grinned at him. Gideon glowered at him. Zeke wasn’t laughing, at least, Gideon was sure Zeke was laughing on the inside at him.

“If you were rewarded adequately,” Eberron said, “it stands to reason that something else has your tail in a twist.”

“Giving him treats as if he’s a good boy,” Reese snickered.

“Hey!” Gideon glared at him. He knew he shouldn’t have mentioned the chocolate.

“It works with my dogs,” Reese said. It stood to reason that it would work with Gideon.

“Or else, he’d be enjoying said treats instead of bourbon and looking miserable,” Eberron finished.

Gideon growled at both of them. He didn’t want to talk about it. If he talked about it, he couldn’t put it off for a few days. The plates would sit there and taunt him no matter where he put them. He hadn’t had time to accumulate any clutter around his apartment to hide them under. Not that he’d ever been much into clutter, the military didn’t encourage it and neither had his mother. But if he could have hidden them, he could have pretended to forget about it for a little while.

Eberron took a pull of his beer and shifted his weight. “And if Savannah knew about this, she’d be over here chewing on him instead of giving Brand a report at the club.”

Gideon stiffened and turned to glare at Eberron. “She said she was going back to her place and somebody was going to come and pick up the van.”

“And you believed her?” Reese asked.

“Sure, someone will be by to pick up the van,” Eberron said. “After she goes to the club. On a technicality, she didn’t lie.” He tilted his head. “I can call her.”

Gideon’s eyes widened.

“Though chewing, once again, probably wouldn’t be on her mind,” Reese muttered.

“It’s nothing,” Gideon protested.

Zeke kept filling orders and listening with half an ear. “I don’t believe you. They don’t believe you, and Savannah certainly wouldn’t believe you.”

Eberron smirked. “You can tell us or we can call Savannah, have her come down, and pester it out of you. That would probably be more entertaining.”

Zeke met Gideon’s eyes. “Because you’re her prospect. She takes her job seriously.” He paused. “And she cares.”

Gideon ground his teeth. Zeke reached for the phone and set it on top of the bar. Eberron reached for it, though he did have his computer in his ear. This was a more blatant and better threat.

Gideon smacked his hand down on the phone. “We stopped and got the damn plates for my auto,” he growled and shoved the phone towards Zeke.

Reese and Eberron looked at each other. “You haven’t put them on yet,” Eberron observed.

“I got them. I haven’t had time,” Gideon said. They were excuses and he knew it.

“It takes two minutes,” Eberron said. “What’s the problem?”

Gideon ran his hands through his hair. “There is no problem.”

“If there was no problem, you would have done it already,” Eberron said and knocked back another swallow of his beer. “At least, you’re getting a choice on the matter.” He hadn’t.

Gideon glanced at him. Eberron sounded like he spoke from personal experience. It made Gideon curious about what exactly had happened when Eberron joined.

Reese winced and decided he better distract Gideon. “Put it off long enough, Savannah will probably do it,” he said.

Gideon’s brain exploded. He couldn’t think for a few minutes. Somehow, this had turned into a big deal. The paperwork didn’t bother him, but the plates did. It was a symbol, a visible symbol, of where his allegiance lay. “If I take them off, I can’t go back,” he said. “I can’t leave. It’s not that easy anymore. I’m not running around without a clue. I’m—”

“Finding a home,” Eberron interrupted. “Independent of your family.” He turned the bottle with the flat of his palms. “You wouldn’t be running if you thought you could go back. It doesn’t work that way.”

Gideon grimaced and took a swallow of bourbon to hide the taste of the bitter truth to the words.

“Running’s easy. Going back is easy too.” Eberron shrugged a shoulder. “Depends on whether or not you’re the type of man who wants to take the easy way. Doesn’t mean you have to like it, but at some point it has to be done. Better do it now while you’re the one actually making that choice.” Eberron set his beer on the bar.

Zeke refilled Gideon’s bourbon glass and raised an eyebrow. “I take it that kutte means something to you too.” Zeke glanced down. “Like those tags.”

Gideon reached up and grabbed his tags. He met Zeke’s eyes and gave him a little mental nod. He knocked back the bourbon and slid off the stool, laying down the money to pay for it.

Eberron grinned and punched Gideon’s shoulder. “Come on, puppy. Let’s get this done.”

Reese smirked. “How many bikers does it take to run a screwdriver?” he asked as the three headed towards the door. “Or is this an excuse to look at the auto?”

“You. Shut up.” Eberron pointed at Reese. “Office store should have a box to fit the plates.”

Gideon grinned and let their banter distract him from what he was about to do.

---

Gideon put the package containing his old plates on the counter at the post office, took his hands off of it, and put them on the edge of the counter and used it to support his weight. He let out a short sharp breath. His tags hung between him and the counter, swinging back and forth.

The postmaster smiled at him. “Important?”

He looked up. “A little,” he said. This was it. With this package he was cutting his legal ties to New York. It was a big thing. Something he hadn’t thought would be big when he put the plates into the box with a copy of his new registration. His wallet held real paper copies of his new auto license and a motorcycle permit.

This wasn’t a half formed, haywire, by the seat of his pants idea anymore. This was real.

“Where to?”

“Owasco, New York,” he said. It hadn’t felt this big when he’d written a new letter telling his mother he was staying.

The postmaster picked up the package. “International rates,” he said.

Gideon nodded. He reached up, wrapped his fingers around his tags, and tucked them back in his shirt.

The Postmaster set it on the scale and weighed it. He printed out a sticker, slapped it on, turned, and told Gideon the amount.

Gideon reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet and slid enough cash to cover it across the counter. “You got a registered thing so I know?”

The postmaster winked. “Ahead of you, this looked official,” he said.

Gideon grinned. “Thanks,” he said.

“It will take longer for the registered slip to come back to us to get the box there, but that’s the air versus ground for you,” The postmaster said and stamped a few things. “The centuries may change, but the mail stays the same.”

Gideon nodded. The Postmaster handed him a receipt and his change. He looked at it for a minute and rubbed it with his fingers. This was it. He wasn’t going back home. He swallowed a lump in his throat, nodded at the Postmaster and left before he lost control.

This was what he wanted. Why did his chest hurt so much?