Who: Hemlock and Isaac What: DAYTON IS MISSING When: April 25, morning Where: Dining tent -> Isaac's -> Around the Cirque Warnings: N/A
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“This isn’t funny anymore, Dayton!”
Hemlock pulled his head out from under the dining tent table and rocked back on his heels. His witch wasn’t there either. He stood again with a puff of frustration expelled from his chest, hands going to his narrow hips as he scanned the tent and everyone in it for the hundredth time. Dayton wasn’t anywhere he could see.
His witch hadn’t been there when Hemlock woke up. Uncommon, but not strange. What was strange was not being able to find Dayton anywhere else—though he could feel him. While both were within cirque grounds Hemlock always knew where Dayton was, as if connected by an invisible thread.
Except now the thread felt as if it were everywhere. No direction seemed any more right than another, and he kept seeing flashes of messy hair and poor clothing out of the corner of his eye that had to belong to Dayton. But when he looked, there was only air. His witch was missing in plain sight, a fact that had been irritating him all afternoon.
Wooden hands wrung together anxiously as he considered what to do next. He hadn’t found Dayton no matter where he looked or wandered. Dread was an awful emotion, all sticky and choking, and he was quite upset to notice it sneaking up on him the longer the situation went on. Perhaps it was finally time to get the rest of his family involved, bad blood or not.
He burst into a riot of rustling sound as he ran out of the tent and towards the trailer he knew to be Isaac’s, not quite managing to stop all the way as he approached and simply banging right into the door to stop in lieu of knocking. It still worked. “Isaac!” Hemlock shouted, unable to keep the whine out of his voice. Even here it felt like Dayton was incredibly near, but somehow just out of reach.
Inside the caravan, Isaac jumped when he heard something slam forcefully into his door. He was on his feet in a split second, grabbing the closest thing to him to use as a weapon, which happened to be a knife. He whirled towards the door and was just about to advance on it when he heard Hemlock’s frantic voice calling for him outside. “Hem?” Now he was more worried than anything else. Fearful that someone was attacking he rushed to the door and flung it open. “Hem! What is it? What’s wrong?” He pulled the familiar inside and behind him while looking out over the grounds. Not seeing anything charging towards his caravan, he turned his attention back towards Hemlock, looking him over to see if he was injured in anyway. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”
Isaac appearing so quickly was a relief, writ large across his body in the way his face dropped and shoulders slumped. At least someone was where they were supposed to be—even if he was holding a knife.
“Dayton is gone,” he said, glancing over his shoulder towards the rest of the grounds. The dread that had been displaced by panic washed over him again. He turned into Isaac and threw his arms around the other man, squeezing tightly as if to remind himself that Isaac was real. “He wasn’t there when I woke up. He’s not anywhere I can see. But I still feel him here in the cirque.”
Isaac barely had a moment to register what Hemlock said before the familiar attached himself around Isaac's middle, forcing the wolf to grunt slightly with the force. Isaac still didn’t quite understand what Hemlock was saying, but it was clear that something had happened and Hem was extremely upset about it.
Isaac patted Hemlock on the back lovingly. It seemed as though he thought something was going to happen to Isaac as well and the wolf wanted to assure him that he was real and not going anywhere. “I’m sure Dayton’s here somewhere,” Isaac said gently. “He probably just got up early, or something, yeah? C’mone, I’ll help you look for him.”
“No, no, you don’t understand.” Shaking his head, Hemlock pulled back to look up—and up, and up, because Isaac was frustratingly tall—at the wolf. “We’re connected again. When he’s inside the cirque, I always know where he is. Here.” He tapped the center of his chest. “This is different. It feels wrong. It feels like he’s everywhere. Nowhere feels more or less.”
How could one person be everywhere at once? It was impossible. And yet, better than the alternative. “He promised he wouldn’t leave me again.” Hemlock frowned again. “He said he was going to work on being better to you, and to me, and to stop looking so poor. He was trying hard, I know he was. He wouldn’t just leave.”
As he said it, Hemlock believed it to be the truth. Dayton wouldn’t have abandoned him a second time.
“But he’s a little stupid, sometimes,” he added after a moment, shrugging. Both he and Isaac knew this was true, too. “Do you think he did something stupid?”
Isaac’s stomach dropped and a chill went through his blood. He understood the connection Hemlock and Dayton had, how deep it was and how important it was for both of them. That’s why he’d been so shocked when Hemlock had said he’d found himself on a shelf of a thrift store.
As much as Dayton continued to piss Isaac off, he didn’t believe for one second that he would just up and leave Hemlock again. No, if Dayton was leaving, he would have taken his familiar with him. Had he done something stupid? Fear started to gnaw at Isaac’s belly. The image of Patric strung up in the middle of the midway flashed through his mind and the wolf’s breath hitched in his throat.
For Hemlock, though, he shook his head. “No. No, if you feel that he’s here. Then he’s here. Somewhere. We just have to find him.”
“I’ve been looking everywhere!” And everywhere seemed no better or worse than the last. It was beginning to feel like what Hemlock suspected a raw nerve would, the sensation that his witch was right there always on and sensitive.
Where could they look that Hemlock hadn’t already? Hemlock looked down at himself and then up at Isaac again. “Can you…can you smell him better, maybe?” There was no way Hemlock didn’t smell like Dayton. He spent all night rolling around his bed and stealing all of his sheets. He lifted his hands towards Isaac, palms up. “Will this help?”
Isaac raised a brow at Hemlock. If it had been anyone else, he would have been offended, but he knew Hemlock didn’t really know any better, and honestly didn’t mean anything by essentially calling Isaac a bloodhound of sorts. Besides, Hemlock was upset, and Isaac couldn’t fault him for that.
He signed inwardly and sniffed at Hemlock’s hands. He did smell like Dayton, that unmistakable scent of fresh earth, moss and rain. There was something underneath that was undeniably Hemlock as well (everyone had their own scent), but this was good enough to start. “Alright, Hem,” Isaac said nodding towards the door. “Let’s find your witch.”
“Okay,” Hemlock nodded, shoulders squaring. If Isaac was confident, then he would be confident, too. He turned to the door and marched out of the caravan with renewed hope, head held high.
…and turned around again after five steps to look at Isaac for guidance, because he wasn’t sure what he was meant to do. In all his years of “growing up” with the wolf they’d never done anything quite like this. He tapped his fingertips together, fidgeting, and waited for Isaac to announce if he smelled anything strong.
“Let me know if I should go get something of his. Maybe one of his dirty, holey socks. Astrid fixed most of them, but…” He gestured vaguely. “I think one or two is still bad.”
Isaac’s nose wrinkled at the thought of Dayton’s smelly old socks. “No, I don’t need that, thanks, Hem.” He said. He stepped down the steps of his caravan and took a couple of deep breathes. He was a little surprised to catch a whiff of Dayton on the air, as though the witch had come through not that long ago. Isaac frowned, he sniffed again, but he couldn’t tell what direction the smell was coming from.
He looked back at Hemlock. “This will probably be easier if I’m in my wolf form. My nose is good now, but it’ll be better in that form.” Plus it’d look less strange for Isaac to be smelling the ground as a wolf than as a human.
A moment later, Isaac was in his wolf form. Dayton’s smell was a bit sharper now, but not by much. Isaac sniffed the ground, circling around Hemlock, before starting off the direction Hemlock had come.
Hemlock ran his hands over Isaac’s back with a fond smile as the wolf circled him. There was something comforting about seeing Isaac’s wolf form again. Dayton’s absence had been a terrible hole in his life, but so had Isaac’s. They were a very strange little family, and not altogether very bonded anymore, but it didn’t mean he loved either of them any less. He’d be sure to tell them both that once they found Dayton.
And after Hemlock was done yelling at him.
When Isaac headed in the direction he’d come, Hemlock wanted to protest; he'd already looked that way, but perhaps his nose was sensing something Hemlock hadn’t. He chewed his lower lip and followed after, feet moving quickly to keep up with the wolf.
“I think if you want to yell at him when we find him, that would be alright,” he offered as Isaac searched. He wasn’t much sure what else to talk about. “I will be. And if he’s rude about it we can hang out together instead.”
They should have all been hanging out already, Hemlock thought, but his witch and Isaac were being awfully stubborn. He promised himself to work on it more once Dayton was found.
Under different circumstances, Isaac would have stood still and let Hemlock run his hands through his fur. It brought back fond memories of a different life, back when he, Hemlock and Dayton had been a family, an odd little family, but family nonetheless. Maybe once they found Dayton and both of them could give the witch an earful for making Hem worry, they could relax. Maybe Isaac would stay in his wolf form for a little while, sun himself in the afternoon and let Hemlock lay on him the way they used to.
They had to find Dayton first, though. Isaac listened to Hemlock, though he wasn’t able to respond back with anything other than a bark or a yip – He did snort this agreement that Hemlock was well within his right to yell at Dayton and that Isaac would back him up the entire time.
Isaac followed the path back to Dayton’s trailer, but the scent trail didn’t end there. Isaac followed it through the backstage areas of the Cirque and behind the Big Top. Occasionally he paused and looked back to make sure Hemlock was still with him.
Something wasn’t quite right. No matter where they went, Dayton’s scent lingered in the air, as though they had just missed him. It didn’t make any sense. How could Dayton be everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time?
When they came to the area behind the game stalls that lined the midway, Isaac lifted his head to look around.. He expected to see Dayton slipping around the corner or moving just out of the corner of his eye, but there was nothing. He whimpered a little and paced back and forth. Dayton’s smell was everywhere! He understood now what Hemlock meant earlier when he said it felt as though Dayton was everywhere all at once.
“I told you,” Hemlock frowned. He watched the wolf pace and wished he hadn’t been right. Dayton was everywhere and nowhere. It was like he’d simply…dispersed. Not disappeared, but spread everywhere.
“It’s like he’s been sucked up somehow when I wasn’t looking.” He reached out his hands to touch Isaac when the wolf paced past again. “Can we go back to your house? I don’t want to be out here right now. I’d feel safer inside.”
Inside, and in a place where he couldn’t be turned into supernatural spaghetti or whatever had happened to his witch. “I don’t think he’s hurt. I’d know. But he’s not…here. Come on, let’s go.”
Isaac would have spent the rest of the day scouring the grounds to find Dayton, but stopped when Hemlock reached for him. He looked up at the familiar, his head cocked to the side. Hemlock’s connection with Dayton was strong and if anything bad had happened to the witch, Hemlock would know and he’d surely tell Isaac.
Dayton was there on the grounds, Isaac was sure of it. He was somehow everywhere as though the Cirque had somehow absorbed him. Was that even possible? Isaac didn’t know, nor did he know why the circus would do such a thing in the first place. Maybe to protect Dayton? But from what?
Since it appeared their search was over for now, Isaac reassumed his human form. He looked at Hemlock a little sadly. He’d just found his witch again. It didn’t seem fair. Isaac put his hand on the other’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Yeah, let’s go back to my place,” he said. Hem would feel safe there, hopefully.
Hemlock was quiet as they traced their steps back to Isaac’s home. Once inside he found the nearest soft surface and collapsed onto it in a heap of wooden limbs. The panic from before had been well tempered by the knowledge Isaac felt it, too. Dayton wasn’t gone, just…elsewhere. Now he felt disappointed, dejected, and frustrated.
He twisted his fingers together with a glum look, watching them instead of looking at Isaac. “I guess I’ll ask someone about this. But when he comes back…do you think you two can be better?” His gaze ticked up to his brother and then away again, guilty. “If you weren’t angry at each other this probably wouldn’t have happened.”
Isaac was about to assure Hemlock that they’d figure this out. There were plenty of witches at the circus who could do all sorts of different magic. One of them at least had to have some kind of clue what had happened and how to fix it. He’d just opened his mouth to say he’d start asking around when Hemlock spoke and just about took Isaac’s legs out from under him.
“Hem…” But what argument could he make? Isaac was still convinced that Dayton hated him and would forever hate him, but he hadn’t quite given Dayton a reason to not hate him since he’d arrived at the Cirque. And the rub was that Isaac didn’t even hate Dayton. He never had. Dayton had hurt Isaac deeply, as though a piece of his soul had withered and died, but the wolf could never hate his brother.
What if Hem was right, though? What if the Cirque had absorbed Dayton to protect him from Isaac? Or to protect the brothers from each other? A lump formed hard in the back of Isaac’s throat. He tried swallowing it back before stepping up to sit down near Hemlock. “I’m sorry, Hem,” he said softly.
When Isaac sat down, Hemlock wasted no time. He scooted into the larger man and threw his arms around him like he had with Dayton so many times, just wanting to be comforted by the closeness of something familiar. The quietness of Isaac’s voice told him that maybe he’d taken it a step too far, but Hemlock couldn’t deny that he’d been highly irritated that the family wasn’t back together yet.
Now something else was happening. He held onto Isaac, as if unsure again that he wouldn’t disappear. “We should stick together,” he declared, though he felt uneasy in the aftermath of indirectly blaming Isaac. “I don’t want to lose you again, too. I’m sorry.”
Now Isaac really did feel terrible. Hemlock was right for blaming him, he hadn’t exactly done his part to fix the situation between him and Dayton. And now there was the possibility of never getting that chance. “You’re not going to lose me,” he said gently, placing a hand on top of Hemlock’s head. “You’re my brother too. I promise, I’m not going to go anywhere without you.”
“Okay,” Hemlock nodded. “Good.”
As soon as Dayton and Isaac were near enough, Hemlock was going to deploy the large shirt he found. He’d stuff them both in it and not let them leave until they were friends and everything was back to the way it was supposed to be again.
He huffed a sigh and turned his face into Isaac, glad that they were at least about to be together while they tried to suss out what had happened. “Can I stay here for a while?” he asked, voice muffled by Isaac’s shirt. “While we ask around? I don’t want to be alone.”
A wave of relief flooded Isaac when Hemlock asked if he could stay. If the familiar hadn’t asked, Isaac would have insisted. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he was scared that without Dayton, Hemlock would go to sleep again, only this time, he might never wake up.
“Of course you can stay,” he said without hesitation. “You can stay as long as you like, alright? My door is always open for you.”
While Isaac had stepped out, Hemlock had gone to work on the network. The definition of “work” was debatable, as it had quickly devolved into an argument with Ame and a whole lot of confusion on everyone else’s part. Except for Isaac, who’d been uncharacteristically cross with Hemlock, enough that it had smothered the last of his rage at anyone who wasn’t helping. The rest of his interactions were mild, and eventually he’d put the phone down and taken to looking out the window numbly.
Dayton was gone. And from what those on the network were saying, it seemed no easy fix. Phineas had made the most sense, as horrifying as it was. If Dayton had been feeling less than or unworthy, why wouldn’t the circus try and help him? But then why wouldn’t he have talked to Hemlock? Had he done something wrong?
The familiar shape of Isaac appeared outside, loping closer. Hemlock’s shoulders hunched, body tense until the moment Isaac stepped inside again. “I’m sorry for yelling at your friend!” he all but shouted, unable to wait before getting it out.
Isaac returned with a bag slung over his shoulder stuffed full with a few things he thought Hemlock would need – mostly clothes, but also a blanket and a pillow from Dayton’s trailer. To Isaac, Datyon’s scent was everywhere, but he thought it might be helpful for Hemlock to have something that smelled like Dayton around to snuggle up with.
The whole errand had taken longer than it should have. He kept having to stop and respond to what was happening on the Cirque’s network. Once he got Hemlock and Ame to stop yelling at each other, his head hurt too much to keep checking back. It was still aching by the time he got back to his own trailer. He winced when Hemlock practically shouted at him as he entered.
He didn’t blame Hemlock for being upset and he didn’t blame Ame for what she said either. “It’s alright, Hem,” he said tiredly. He let the strap of the duffle bag he had fall off his shoulder and the bag itself fall onto his couch. “I’m not mad at you,” he said looking over at the Familiar seated by the window, framed by the two bookcases on either side. Isaac came over and sat next to him. He ran through his hair, his hand coming to rest on the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he said.
“It’s okay.”
Hemlock didn’t move closer as he had before. He stayed where he was, watching Isaac settle himself. The wolf looked drained—Hemlock didn’t blame him. He knew he could be a lot ot deal with, and Ame was a very rude bird.
“What did you mean before?” he asked, tone cautious. “When you said it had to do with her and Dayton and what they did to you?”
Isaac physically winced at the question. His eyes closed and he dropped his hand from the back of his neck. He’d been such a stupid idiot. He hadn’t told Hemlock the details of what had happened on purpose. Hemlock needed Dayton and Dayton needed Hemlock. As angry and hurt as Isaac was, he could never do or say anything that could possibly damage that bond. He hadn’t wanted Hemlock to hear what his witch had become. Hemlock was innocent and Isaac would do whatever was needed to protect that innocence.
It was too late now. Isaac sighed. He licked his dry lips and tried to get his mouth to speak the words. “Do you remember what I told you before?” He asked. “That Dayton made me leave? I told you that Eugenia told Dayton I had done something bad do her. She said –” A hard lump had formed at the back of Isaac’s throat. He forced his voice to work around it and it came out strained and thin. “She told Dayton that I came on to her. She said she turned me down and then I attacked her.” He took a shakey breath and shook his head. “She had him so confused, so clouded that he only believed her.”
Isaac got up from the couch. His back ached phantom pain where he’d been stabbed. He had to move before the caravan started spinning around him. “He had a gun – that old gun his father had – it was loaded with silver bullets. He pointed at me…” Isaac’s mouth was dry and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Hemlock. I’m so sorry.”
As the full shape of what happened between Eugenia, Isaac, and Dayton, Hemlock’s expression grew more and more horrified. He’d known there’d been an argument about a lie and a gun with bullets. But not accusations about assault. Not silver bullets.
Had he been on the windowsill when it all happened, inert and oblivious to Isaac almost being murdered? Dayton had made it sound like a simple miscommunication gone nuclear when they’d talked before. That he may or may not have wanted to shoot at Isaac if he’d had found him. Not…not what he was being told now.
“He told me she said you were in love with her and trying to steal her away,” he said just above a whisper, suddenly unable to look at Isaac’s face. “That he chased you away with a gun but that he never found you. I thought…” The changeling looked down at his hands, which had already been wrung so much today, and twisted them together anxiously. “I thought it was a misunderstanding. I didn’t know it was, it was that. Or that he almost hurt you badly.”
Hemlock didn’t have any tears to shed, but his voice sounded watery all the same as he continued. “He said he was sorry and he knew you weren’t lying now and that he was…he was going to tell you. So I forgave him for leaving us.” Sniffling, Hemlock glanced up at Isaac. He looked drained and it was likely Hemlock’s fault. “I’m sorry he didn’t tell you. I’m sorry I blamed you for him disappearing.”
The timbre of Hemlock’s voice was enough to break Isaac’s heart. There was more to the story, but Isaac knew Hemlock had heard enough. More than enough.
Hemlock said that Dayton knew Isaac hadn’t been lying and that he was going to change. That lump in isaac’s through grew larger. It hurt a little that Dayton hadn’t said anything. Or…rather, it hurt that Isaac hadn’t allowed him to. It couldn’t be easy approaching someone you had wronged believing that they hated you.
Isaac’s shoulders slumped. A couple of steps and he was seated on the couch next to Hemlock again. He put his arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. He wasn’t Dayton, he didn’t share that special deep connection, but he knew how important the physical contact was. It was for him as well.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Isaac assured his poor wooden brother.
“Neither did you,” Hemlock mumbled into Isaac’s shirt. He scrubbed his cheek against it, happy for the contact. “He shouldn’t have tried to hurt you like that. You didn’t—she was lying.” As his arms circled Isaac again he wondered if Eugenia had ever told any of them the truth about anything.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when it happened. That I was asleep. You should’ve had someone in your corner.” His pale wooden face turned again, enough that he could see Isaac’s chin. “I wish we hadn’t been alone. But I’m glad we’re here now.”
“I am too,” Isaac said softly. He rubbed Hemlock’s back soothingly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you, either, Hem. I’m sorry that I didn’t take you with me when I left. I’m sorry you were alone for so long. I promise, I won’t ever let that happen again.” Isaac brought his other arm up to swipe across his eyes and he swallowed back his tears and pain. He sniffed and leaned back a little so he could look down at Hemlock. “How are you feeling?” He asked. “Are you hungry at all?”
Hemlock reached up so he could help swipe at Isaac’s eyes, too. Both Dayton and Isaac had made many promises not to leave him since they’d all come together again. Hemlock couldn’t remember if he’d done the same, but the intent was there anyway: they weren’t getting rid of him again unless they axed him back to kindling themselves.
“I’m feeling sad and tired.” The changeling had no reason not to be honest, and to lie now would be frankly offensive. “But I think I could eat.” He pushed up onto his knees and took Isaac’s face in his hands, carefully pushing the hair back away from the wolf’s face and making sure no tear streaks remained.
“Do you remember fluffernutters?” he asked, almost shyly. They’d all shared them growing up, sandwiches with thickly-spreaded slabs of peanut butter and marshmallow fluff. “Can we have those?”
Isaac blinked at Hemlock when he got up and pushed his hair back to study his face. His hands cupping his cheeks brought a sort of comfort Isaac hadn’t expected and he couldn’t help a small wan smile. “I remember fluffernutters,” he said. He patted Hemlock’s cheek. “I can make those for us.”
Isaac patted Hemlock’s cheek again before he got up from the couch and made his way to the small kitchen near the front of his trailer. As it just so happened, Isaac had both peanut butter and fluff on hand. “I brought you a few things,” he called over to Hem and indicated the duffle bag. “If there’s anything I missed, or something you want. We can go get it together after we eat.”
“I can make them,” Hemlock said quickly. Perhaps James hadn’t been too far off when he waxed poetic about familiars and their energy to give. Internally he was reeling still, but Isaac looked terrible and Hemlock knew if he let him Isaac would continue to look terrible and do things for him while Hemlock sat with a dangerous numbness growing inside him. Doing and caring was better for the both of them.
He dragged a rough fingertip over one of Isaac’s dark brows. “Let me help you.”
And before Isaac could protest too much, Hemlock slid himself off the couch in a flurry of rustling and thumped towards the kitchen space, humming tunelessly as he began to root around without any pretense of being a visitor.
First step, fluffernutters. Second step…they’d get there when they got there.