Chapter Text
Andrew was having an unusually alright day before the dying boy showed up at his doorstep.
Well, technically not just his and not really the doorstep either. Rather, the boy came limping into sight at half-past-ten and was promptly stopped by the massive fence, topped with barbed wire and heavily locked. Andrew doubted the boy could have scaled it even if he wasn’t injured, but he certainly seemed to be considering it. His eyes darted up and around, sizing up the fence even as his legs wobbled.
Andrew took in the stranger’s appearance without lowering his gun. Through its scope, he could guess that the boy was around his age, perhaps the slightest bit taller, with messy auburn hair and shockingly icy eyes. He was clad in baggy clothes that had probably been ugly even before they were covered in blood, and he was armed with a bloody axe and a kitchen knife, which was tucked precariously into his belt. The hand not holding the axe was clutched to his right side, from which a massive bloodstain spread across his T-shirt and down onto his jeans. Most of the blood was dried and brown, but some still gleamed fresh.
In the seconds that Andrew sat evaluating him, the stranger was evaluating the house. Specifically, the windows, meaning that Andrew received a fair shock when the boy’s gaze locked on his through the scope. If they hadn’t already been almost a year into this thing, Andrew might have jumped. As it was, his eyes only widened slightly, and he held his finger on the trigger, waiting for provocation.
It didn’t come. Instead, the boy deliberately tossed his axe to the side and said, “can I come in? I think I’m dying.”
Andrew stared. Then, deciding that the boy posed little threat in his current state, he opened the window a little wider, allowing the boy to see him and his weapon. Keeping his gun trained on the stranger (he wasn’t stupid, after all) he called out clearly, “get rid of the knife, too.” The boy obeyed, slipping the knife from his belt and tossing it to the side. Andrew held his stare for a moment. Was he really about to do this?
“I’m not bitten.” Andrew rolled his eyes at this. Obviously the boy wasn’t fucking bitten; if he had been he wouldn’t be talking, much less engaging in a negotiation such as this.
“Fucking duh. I’m coming down. If you even look at your weapons, I’m firing. Clear?”
“Crystal,” came the relieved reply, and with that, the boy crumpled to the ground at last.
☣
“Shit.” Andrew swore vehemently. He traded the big gun for a smaller hand-held. The boy was seriously injured, no doubt, but still…if he was somehow faking his collapse, Andrew didn’t want to be unarmed. He quickly undid all of the front door locks, then did the same with the gate. It creaked open and he made his way to the stranger.
The boy was still breathing. Apprehensively, Andrew nudged him with the tip of his boot. With no sign of movement, he threw the axe and kitchen knife inside the perimeter of the fence (never too many weapons), stowed his gun, and scooped the boy up in a princess carry. He was oddly light given that he had at least a few inches on Andrew, and Andrew could feel individual vertebrae and ribs pressing into his hand. It wasn’t terribly strange though – all of them were eating less these days.
Upon reentering the house, Andrew hesitated. His first instinct was to lay the boy on the couch, but the thought of Allison’s reaction to blood on the sofa was enough to deter him. Instead, he placed the boy as gently as he could on the floor, then quickly laid out an old blanket and moved him to rest upon it. He grabbed the nearest first-aid kit, washed his hands, and knelt beside the stranger. Steeling himself, he took a deep breath and lifted the boy's shirt.
It was perhaps a sign that he still had some humanity that, after everything Andrew had witnessed, he still had to run to the sink and vomit at the sight and smell of the boy’s torso. The T-shirt came up reluctantly from the mass of drying blood, and the wound below it was obviously infected. It appeared to be a deep graze from a bullet. Barely able to look at it, Andrew's gaze traveled across the rest of the exposed skin, but what he saw there almost made him sick again: a myriad of scars littered the boy’s chest and stomach – knife wounds, puffy burn scars, the puckered starburst of a bullet that had fully met its mark.
Andrew took several deep, steadying breaths. He pulled on a surgical mask and gloves and got to work cutting off the boy’s shirt. He had to pause every few minutes to keep his composure and not blow chunks through the mask, but that wound needed stitches as soon as possible. Aaron was the ideal person for such an operation, but he was with the scouting party right now, and all of them had learned fairly basic medical procedures out of sheer necessity. Andrew wasn’t about to foist this onto Dan or Allison; the two of them were getting some well-deserved rest after their watch shift. No, this was up to him.
The wound appeared a lot more manageable after it had been cleaned and disinfected. In any case, Andrew was no longer in danger of vomiting, and he was in fact rather pleased with himself. The bleeding was minimal at this point, so stitching the boy up was not the battlefield nightmare he had feared. All this was helped by the fact that the boy had not stirred once since collapsing. Finally, when the wound was passably stitched and dressed and most of the blood had been washed away, Andrew relaxed. He was sweaty and exhausted, though a look at the clock showed that the whole ordeal, from when the stranger had appeared outside the fence to now, had taken barely over an hour.
Andrew sighed. The scouting party would hopefully be back soon, and he didn’t want them to come home to a strange boy bleeding in the living room. After disposing of his gloves, mask, and the ruined shirt, Andrew wearily scooped the boy up again, keeping the blanket under him. Without really thinking, he found himself in his own bedroom. It made sense, he supposed, to keep the stranger here. The window looking out was still open from Andrew’s watch, and a bed was definitely better than the floor for a seriously injured person. With great care, as if afraid of reopening old wounds as well as the new one, Andrew deposited the stranger on top of his bedspread. The bandages stood out stark white from his tan skin, and Andrew found himself having to wrench his gaze away.
He quickly brushed his teeth and washed his hands in the en suite, scrubbing the blood out from under his fingernails. He was still technically on watch, but the boy’s face caught his eye again as he made his way back to the window. There was something odd about him, aside from the fact that someone had hated him enough to mutilate him so thoroughly, but Andrew couldn’t place it. He watched the boy sleeping peacefully for a moment, then took up his place again, peering through the scope with his finger on the trigger.
☣
Andrew realized his mistake as soon as the scouting party returned. As Matt unlocked the gate and hailed Andrew with a wave, Kevin’s eyes fell on the axe. The fucking axe that Andrew had completely forgotten to move in his quest to save the boy wielding it, the blade of which was covered unmistakably in blood.
Quick as a flash, Kevin shoved a confused Aaron behind him and drew his revolver. Matt and Renee saw the axe as well, and while Matt quickly whipped out a knife, Renee (often the only one with any brain cells) looked up to Andrew’s position. He waved to her, signalling that everything was okay, and watched her tell the others. Matt relaxed and waved again; Kevin, predictably, did not. He kept Aaron close behind him as he moved them both inside the perimeter of the fence. Andrew had to roll his eyes. He couldn’t deny that they were a good match (though he would never say so out loud) but nothing would change the fact that Kevin was a complete doofus when it came to Andrew’s twin.
Once the others had made their way to the door, Andrew left his station and the boy and slipped downstairs. At the sound of the door opening, Dan and Allison emerged as well and joined the pack in the living room, Allison yawning widely. Dan lit up when she saw Matt, and the two were entwined in an armchair in record time, scenting each other for comfort. Renee and Allison were a bit more subtle, but their relief in seeing each other was palpable – Allison’s smile was never softer than when she saw her mate.
Amidst the happy couples, Kevin pulled Aaron into the other armchair, holding him protectively, and rounded on Andrew.
“Why the fuck is there a bloody axe and kitchen knife in our front yard?” Kevin’s teeth were bared and an angry scent was rolling off of him in waves. Dan and Matt looked up, their bubble broken. Andrew sighed internally. He’d been preparing for what to tell the others, but it would have been smoother if he’d remembered to move that stupid axe.
“Um.” Great start, dipshit. There was nothing for it. He had to just rip off the banadaid. “That axe belongs to…a boy. He showed up this morning, badly injured. I brought him in and treated him. He’s upstairs right now, resting.”
Thunderstruck silence followed this announcement. Kevin appeared unable to speak through his fury while Aaron looked bored. Matt and Dan both looked politely confused. Allison was tense, but expressionless, and remained curled up against her girlfriend. Only Renee kept her smile.
Kevin finally found his voice. “You did what? You brought a fucking stranger into the Den? An injured stranger? What if he was bitten?”
Andrew rolled his eyes for what felt like the tenth time that day. “Of course he wasn’t bitten, you idiot. He would have already been turned; it takes less than five minutes. In any case, it was obviously a bullet wound.” He decided against telling them that the source of injury had only been made obvious once the boy was already inside the Den.
“Fucking fantastic. A bullet wound. So he’s encountered hostile survivors who could be following him here, or else he is a hostile survivor and he’s here to kill us next, or he’s with a pack of hostile survivors and the injury was just a ploy to –” At this point, Kevin stopped talking, because Aaron had placed his hand over his mate’s mouth. He still looked rather bored. Kevin immediately fell silent. He and Aaron were an unusual pair – an alpha and a beta – and Kevin, no matter how dominant he appeared, could never say no to Aaron.
Renee was still smiling. In her usual calm way, she said, “why don’t we meet him, and see what he has to say for himself?”
Andrew was about to reiterate that the boy was asleep, recovering from his injuries. Then he realized that Renee was looking behind him, toward the stairs. Andrew turned. Kevin’s head snapped up. The stranger was standing on the bottom step, still in his bloodstained jeans with one of Andrew’s hoodies zipped up to his neck. He was looking right at Andrew.
“Hi,” the boy said. “Sorry, I found this in your closet. I’m Neil, by the way.”
Kevin looked mutinous.