§ Nixon was bundled up in warm clothes, scarf pulled up around his mouth so that his own breath could keep him warm as he waited for the bus outside of the library. With his messenger bag slung over his shoulder, he held a cup of hot chocolate between both of his hands, liking the way the heat penetrated his mittens. It was cold out, so he was relying on the bus to get him back to the hospital where he would wait out the rest of Pirate's shift so that the man could give him a lift back to the house. The little bus shelter kept some of the crispness off of him, but he was still shivering a little because the sun had long since gone down and the evening nip was starting to settle into the city.

§ After all of his wanderinga round, looking for money and trying to ask a few people for some, Kennedy had only managed to secure himself six bucks, two of which he put towards a cup of coffee and a refill. The weather was so cold and he was sure he was going to freeze but he didn't know what else to do. When he left home he had left behind a warmer climate and he wasn't used to the wind being so frigid. As he set out of the cafe after having been there all day, he hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them warm. His shirt was only three quarter sleeves so it didnt cover all of his forearms and he was really pretty sure if he had to sleep outside again tonight he wasn't going to make it. When he got over to the bus stop he didn't even bother looking at Nixon. He just sat there, huddling up a little bit as much as he could beneath the overhang.

§ Being a socially conscious sort of boy, Nixon noticed the fact that this new arrival wasn't dressed for the weather. That was the first thing he noticed and he was so focused on that, the obvious hadn't hit him yet. "Are you okay?" He asked, thinking perhaps this kid was just like Davis who wore far too few clothes when it was cold out. As he turned to look at Kennedy, he had to blink a few times, feeling his stomach jump up into his throat. What he was seeing shocked him. A few years ago, Nixon had been researching his family tree and his father had been very close-lipped about it. That spurred Nixon stubbornly into action and he'd gone snooping in Sigmund's office finding his own birth certificate, and most disturbingly, another. He'd resisted asking about this, however, finding it too troublesome to even dignify with more research. It had terrified him, so he'd shoved the knowledge to the back of his mind and continued on with his life, thinking perhaps this unknown brother had died.

§ When he heard someone speaking to him he lifted his head just a little bit to glance over at him. After four days of having barely anything but black coffee in his system he was a little jittery and a little out of sorts, so it didn't dawn on him right away that Nixon just looked like him. Identical, really, but even then he might have just considered it uncanny. His mother had never mentioned his father and she'd certainly never mentioned a brother. "I'm okay." he said, nodding a little until his eyes finally focused and then hej ust sort of stared. What was even going on? It had been such a weird week he didn't know how to deal with this.

§ Tugging down the scarf that had been covering his mouth, it became even more clear that they looked perfectly alike. "Kennedy?" That had been the name on the birth certificate he'd found and his voice wavered a little to even speak it out loud. The night after he'd found it, he'd said the name in the dark a few times, but it made his body feel strange and that had been the last time he'd let himself say it. But now, with his mirror image in front of him, and the name hanging between them, Nixon felt as if the bottom had dropped out of his life.

§ When the boy tugged his scarf down and said his name it was just a little bit too much for him to handle. Kennedy hunched his shoulders up more and tucked his head down, thinking that maybe all the coffee in his system with nothing to eat had started to finally play games with his mind. "I don't know who you are." he started as he finally looked up at Nixon again. "But whatever you are doing, however you are doing this, it's not funny." His mother had told him about other creatures that could mimic appearance and things like that. And he thought maybe this was what Nixon was. "Do you work for them? How did you find me so fast?"

§ If Nixon thought he was afraid before, Kennedy's words made him even more anxious. A cold spike of fear wedged its way through his body, up his spine and right into his brain. "I'm Nixon. I--" He didn't know what to say. "I don't work for anyone, you don't have to be afraid of me. I swear." The bus came, stopping in front of them and Nixon heard the doors swing open, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Kennedy. "We should go someplace warm so we can talk. Are you hungry? We could go into the library if you aren't; they have conference rooms."

§ Honestly, at this point, he was too tired and too cold to put up much of a fight. If he ran he knew he wouldn't get far so he just stood, hands still shoved in his pockets and he looked over at Nixon with a bit of a nod. His shoulders were hunched up so high it was hard to tell if he was really nodding or not but he was standing and he wasn't walking away so that should have been sign enough that he was willing to go with him. "I don't care." he was starved but he wasn't going to tell this kid that.

§ Trying very hard to resist grabbing Kennedy and hugging him, Nixon got up and took a step backwards, starting to lead the way but wanting to make sure that his brother followed him. His brother--that felt so strange to have that notion rattling around in his mind. When Nixon had first found out, he didn't think that he'd care, or react this way if he ever met the kid. But now that he was in front of him, the sight tugged at him hard. Ending up in an Applebee's, Nixon urged Kennedy to sit down with him. "I'm hungry, so I hope you don't mind." He would have eaten at the hospital cafeteria as soon as he'd arrived.

§ Of course they eneded up somewhere with food. The smell of it so thick in the air that it made Kennedy's stomach ache and he sat sort of hunched over once they were seated. At least it was warm here. At the very least he could have a few glasses of water to trick himself into feeling full and he'd warm up enough to last in the cold a little while longer. "It's fine." But he didn't have the money to pay for anything so he didnt' even waste his time with picking up the menu. The boy's arms just stayed folded across his stomach, pressed against it as if that might stop some of the pain.

§ Nixon could feel the hunger coming off of the other and he frowned, moving the menu toward him. "You should get something. Get as much as you want--they're used to people stuffing themselves here." He smiled, though the expression looked uncomfortable on his face because Nixon was a serious sort of boy and he didn't have a lot of practice with smiling. That paired with the fact that he was so flabberghasted right now made for a very odd looking, plastic smile.

§ That did nothing to set Kennedy's mind at ease and he just shook his head. There was no explanation offered, he didn't really want to tell Nixon that he wasn't eating because he didn't have money but he was sure at this point that that much was obvious. He was wearing dirty clothes, he probably smelled awful and he was sure he looked a mess. "I'm fine, I'll just stick with water." He said, watching as the waitress came by and said she'd be back for their orders in a minute.

§ "You're not fine." He lowered his voice, quickly taking on the role of protector, though not knowing enough to do a good job of it yet. "If you get too hungry you'll shift and hurt yourself." If they were twins, then Kennedy was a werewolf too and since Nixon had had his first at , then he was sure Kennedy was well into his shifting experience. "Come on. I'm buying."

§ When he said the bit about shifting, Kennedy rolled his eyes over in Nixon's direction and tipped his head to the side slightly. "What's your name?" he asked, if the kid had said it before he hadn't caught it because he'd been too busy wondering when the other shoe was going to drop. But right now he was too hungry and too tired to protest and if the kid was going to offer to feed him... well... he was going to just have to take the offer.

§ "Nixon. Nixon Veda. Is that your last name?" It had been on the birth certificate, but he didn't know what had happened between the hospital and wherever Kennedy had grown up. Then a thought struck him and he paled a little. Maybe Kennedy knew their mother. That thought made his stomach clench. When the waitress came back, he ordered a big appetizer and a hamburger.

§ Kennedy simply ordered the same thing as Nixon because he didn't want to bother with the menu. Even inside he was still a little cold so he kept his arms wrapped around himself in favor of conserving whatever heat he could manage. "Kennedy Veda." Despite the falling out with his father, his mother had never opted to change his last name. And Kennedy had never pressed to know more about his other father, he'd just left it alone and let her tell him when she was ready. Obviously now, he'd never hear it from her.

§ That made Nixon feel good, a relief washing over him. The same last name. How much more proof could he need? "I can't believe I found you." Which was a silly thing to say, given that the other had just fallen into his lap, and Nixon hadn't even been looking. He was breathless, taking too big gasps of air as if he'd been running for miles. "I can't believe this. Why are you here? Were you looking for me?"

§ "No." Kennedy couldn't sugar coat it. Couldn't make the kid feel any better about why he was there. "I was running. I just ended up here because I overshot New York and couldn't make it back in that direction. I don't have the money for a bus ticket." The longer he sat there with him the less convinced he was that Nixon was out to get him and now he just didn't understand why after all of this time he had to meet his brother this way. If that was what Nixon really was.

§ "Oh." He didn't seemed too bothered by that, though there was a little drop in his chest. It was more worry than disappointment though. "Why were you running?" Part of him was afraid to ask, but Nixon would never turn away from knowledge. He had to know things, wanted to know everything, especially now that Kennedy was sitting right in front of him, a fountain of information. "Are you in trouble? You're safe now." He was very certain of that, utterly confident in the protection of the pack.

§ "They killed everyone." Kennedy said softly, the realization that his entire pack was decimated finally settling in. He'd been running and he'd been surviving and itj ust hadn't dawned on him that there was nothing to go back to once the running was over. Everyone was gone. Even his mother. He sank back in the chair a little and his head tipped back, his eyes going up to the ceiling as if there was something very interesting up there but really he was trying not to cry.

§ Nixon's eyelids fluttered rapidly, bringing lightly colored eyelashes down across his cheeks as he stared through them in disbelief. He was horrified. Who was everyone? Who was they? Even if these questions erupted into his head, he didn't have the voice to ask them. When the waitress brought their appetizers, she looked at them, but the look Nixon gave her made her go away without asking if everything was all right. Even though the food smelled good, he couldn't bring himself to move one inch.

§ Neither could Kennedy. In fact his stomach only ached more and he sank further into his seat, his head finally coming forward so that he was looking at Nixon. His eyes were shiny with tears but he was too proud to cry in front of a stranger. Even if said stranger was his brother.

§ "Who's dead?" He finally mustered the courage to ask even though his voice was reedy and barely able to make it across the table. The smell of the food entered his nostrils and his stomach reminded him how peckish he couldn't imagine putting food in his mouth just then.

§ "My pack. Everyone in my pack." He said softly, shaking his head as he looked over at Nixon. "Everyone I know is gone. I don't know what they were doing, what they came for." Kennedy pushed his food back away from him because he felt mostly just sick to his stomach now.

§ That was the answer he'd been afraid of. Sitting in silence for another few minutes, Nixon finally sucked in a breath. "Did you live with your mom?" Kennedy's mom, not Nixon's. Nixon didn't have a mom and even though they shared genetics, that woman belonged to Kennedy.

§ "Yes." And now she was gone. Or at least he was pretty sure she was gone. The woman was dying when he'd run. He'd gone to her, turned her over and tried to hold her hand but she'd told him to run and he'd run. Now he wished he had stayed. At least then she wouldn't have died alone.

§ Nixon didn't have near the emotional control that Kennedy clearly had. Tears welled in his eyes and spilled over onto his cheeks. "Oh." Embarrassed, he looked down into his lap, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to turn off the water works. Kennedy had been through more than he had, so it was stupid to cry, but he was never going to meet her now. Never. "What's in New York?"

§ "I don't know." Kennedy shook his head. "There just wasn't anywhere else to go." So that was why he'd decided to go to New York. When he saw the tears in Nixon's eyes and when he watched them roll down his cheeks his stomach lurched and he got up from the table. he was going to be sick.

§ "Where are you going?" He sounded panicked. Now that he knew Kennedy really existed and he'd seen him, he wasn't about to let the other wolf out of his sight. The waitress brought their food and no look from Nixon could stop her from asking if there was some sort of problem. Nixon frowned at her. "Could you just box up our food please? We need to go, something's come up." He wiped fiercely at his cheeks to get rid of the tears.

§ When he got to the bathroom Kennedy could hardly even think of how unsanitary it was in there. Instead he just leaned over the sink and was sick. There was no food in his system so his vomit was mostly just coffee and bile. It burned the whole way up and by the time he was finished heaving he was crying.

§ Nixon followed Kennedy into the bathroom, determined not to let him run away. In the long run, it would be better if Kennedy came to live with him and their father, even if he didn't want to at first. He couldn't bear the idea of losing him, even if they'd only known each other for no more than twenty minutes. Putting his hand on his back, he rubbed between his shoulders the way his dad had done for him when he was little and had the flu.

§ Staying hunched over, he tried to hold still while Nixon rubbed his back. The hand was a comfort, even if it came from a stranger, and he just panted and sobbed. By the time he was done he was an awful mess. His face was splotchy and red, his nose was running and he couldn't get it to stop and his eyes had gone red from the tears. "I can't ever go home."

§ This broke Nixon's heart. Getting some paper towels from the dispenser, he wetted them with cool water in the sink and patted them gently on Kennedy's face. "I'm sorry." He was starting to get angry at his father, and maybe at his mother too. He didn't understand why they had separated, and if Kennedy and his mother had stayed with the Providence pack, she'd be alive right now and Kennedy wouldn't be crying.

§ "I don't have anywhere to go." Kennedy let him wipe his face off and then he just moved to crouch down in front of the sink. Standing was too much effort right now so he just settled with a crouch. His hands stayed on the edge of the sink, holding him up and keeping him from falling right onto his butt.

§ "Come home with me." He'd been too afraid to mention it before because he didn't want Kennedy to say no. "Come on, I'm supposed to meet one of the pack so he can give me a ride home. Dad's there." He added, not knowing if that would convince Kennedy to come or drive him away.

§ "I can't go with you." At least he didn't think that that was a very good idea. Not if they were really brothers. It would probably disrupt everything and make it all much harder on their father, if that was who Nixon lived with. Leaning his forehead against the edge of the sink, he took a few breaths, just trying to stay calm. "I really don't feel well."

§ Frowning, Nixon kept his hand on Kennedy's back, fingers pressing lightly through the thin fabric of his clothes. Even though they'd been in the warmth of the restaurant for awhile, Kennedy's skin was still chilled. "It's not good for you to get so upset. Come on. I'm going to call Pirate and he's going to come and pick us up."

§ "Pirate? You're going to call a pirate?" Standing slowly, he had to use the edge of the sink to pull himself to his feet and then he glanced over at Nixon. "Do you live with your dad?" They're dad, since technically they shared a father. He wasn't sure he wanted to meet the man.

§ Nixon stared at Kennedy, wondering if that's what his mom looked like--then he realized how stupid that was and glanced in the mirror at them standing next to each other. Shaking his head, he got out his cell phone, dialing Pirate's number and talking to him briefly. He didn't mention anything about Kennedy, but said he needed to be picked up. When he hung up, he turned his attention back to Kennedy. "I live with my dad, yeah. I mean, we all live together with the pack."

§ "My mother never told me about you or about him." Kennedy didn't know anything about the other half of his family and he sort of wished she had prepared him for this. His arms went back around himself as they started out of the bathroom and he just tried to keep al the warmth in he could manage before they went outside again.

§ He was relieved that Kennedy wasn't protesting anymore forcefully about going home with him. When they got back to their table, the waitress had left the check and boxed up their food. Nixon still wasn't hungry, but he figured Pirate would be appreciative of a snack. He paid the check, leaving cash on the table and taking the bags, helping Kennedy out into the foyer where they could wait in the warmth. "No one told me about you guys either. I found your birth certificate."

§ That made him frown. Why had their parents wanted to keep them separated so badly? He was starting to shake as they stood there, his eyes on the floor. Talking to him seemed almost painful at this point. To know that if it hadn't been complete fucking luck he wouldn't have ever even know about Nixon.

§ "It's going to be okay." He said, feigning confidence. "When did you shift last? We've got to get you out of here." Nixon thought for sure Kennedy had experienced his first shift before, and when the other hadn't said anything about not, Nixon assumed he was right. He looked out the window anxiously, knowing Pirate would be able to tell better if Kennedy was going to become a danger.

§ "I haven't." Kennedy said, having not thought about it before when Nixon had asked him if he was shifting or had mentioned it. He couldn't even remember. "I feel really sick to my stomach." There was nothing left to throw up but that didn't stop the intense pain.

§ Pulling up a few minutes later, Pirate honked the horn and the sound of it was annoyed. Why the hell did he need to pick Nixon up when the kid was perfectly capable of riding the bus. When the boy came out, helping Kennedy out to the car, Pirate frowned and got out. "What the fuck?"

§ Sliding into the back of the car, Kennedy just sank back and slouched down. He was dizzy and his body was starting to show him just how badly he needed food. Kennedy only glanced at Pirate but he didn't make eye contact or keep hi head up long enough to give Pirate a really great look at him.

§ Nixon got in the back with Kennedy and Pirate sighed, realizing his question wasn't going to get answered. As he sat in the driver's seat, he listened to the pulse of energy that was coming off of Kennedy. "Was he attacked?" There was desperation to the boy, and newness. Definitely a wolf, but not quite yet. Nixon shook his head. "No. No, he's just hungry and scared and his pack was killed. He was heading to New York, but--but he's going to stay with us now."

§ Although he wasn't sure if kennedy would care or not, he leaned against him and just closed his eyes. Nixon was warm and there was a slightly familiar smell to him. Almost like he could smell his mother went he leaned into him. Kennedy was well aware of the fact that he probably didn't smell good and that Nixon probably wouldnt' appreciate it but his brother was so warm.

§ Even though there were bad elements to Kennedy's scent at the moment, the core of his smell was good, and safe. "Oh great, another one? How many new wolves are we going to be taking in? What are we, the fucking orphanage?" Pirate could be a complete dick and Nixon growled, reaching forward to hit the other's shoulder. "He's not an orphan."

§ Even though technically he wasn't an orphan he certainly felt like one. And that was really hard to cope with at this point. One of his hands settled onto Nixon's thigh and he curled his fingers into the fabric. "What am I going to do?" He asked him softly, as if the boy would have all of the answers.

§ He liked to think he had all the answers, so the question settled against him, clearing his head and making him not feel so panicked. "You're going to come home with me and you're going to take a shower and then you're going to have some tomato soup. Tomato soup is my favorite, is it your favorite? There's chicken soup too. Then you're going to sleep." Pirate was looking in the rearview mirror, catching on to something strange about the way the two interacted.

§ Resting his head against Nixon's shoulder, he just closed his eyes. With his head there it put them close enough together to show off the fact that they were entirely identical save for maybe the color of their hair. A shiver ran through Kennedy and he clung a little tighter to Nixon.

§ Pirate very nearly drove off the road because he was staring so hard. "Nixon, what the fuck is going on?" Was it fae? Some other creature? It unnerved him and he drove faster, wanting to get home to the protection of the pack. Nixon shook his head. "It's okay. His name is Kennedy. He's my brother. Ask my dad--he'll tell you. He has to now; he can't lie anymore." There was bitterness in his voice and Nixon was silent the rest of the way home. When they pulled down the driveway to the house, Pirate got out. "Sigmund is still at work." He said, reluctant to call him because he didn't need the guy taking over. Nixon ignored Pirate's dilemma and helped Kennedy out of the car. "I'll tell him when he gets home."

§ Out of the car he stayed leaned against Nixon for support. He looked at Pirate, just trying to figure out why the man seemed so upset by his presence but he couldn't spend too muh time thinking about it because his mind was whirling. This was where his dad was, this was where his brother was and the family he had never even known about. "Is he here? Is your dad here?"

§ "I don't know. It doesn't matter." Already he wanted to keep Kennedy just for himself. Their dad had given the other boy up, and taken Nixon's mother away from him. He didn't deserve to meet Kennedy. Taking him inside, he helped him up the stairs, listening for sounds of other people in the house. Carter had one of the large rooms with his own bathroom and an office off of the bedroom. He was quiet when he walked past the large double-doors.

§ Kennedy was trembling but he stayed quiet too and they walked down the hall and towards Nixon's bedroom. The shower sounded wonderful, even better than eating, because he could get clean and warm and maybe wash the scent of death off of himself in the process. "I like tomato soup best too." he murmured as they walked past.

§ "I'll make you some while you're in the shower." He offered kindly and led him to the small bathroom down the hall. "I'll get you clean clothes too. There's soap in there and you can use my toothbrush. It's the blue one." He was going to leave him alone to clean up so that he could get other things ready.

§ Stripping out of the clothes he'd been wearing for four days, Kennedy ran the shower hot and then climbed in. His plan had been to make it a quick one but once he was under the water he decided it would be a better idea to let the heat sink into his bones and to warm him to the core. That way he wouldn't get cold again so soon if the boy's father decided to make him leave.

§ Not long after Nixon left, a knock came at the door. "Nix? I thought I heard you come in. How did studying go?" It was Carter, having come out from his room. His voice was familiar a timbre that ran in the family, even if Kennedy hadn't heard it before.

§ When he heard it, Kennedy just sort of froze. What was he supposed to say to that? It wasn't like he could just call out. The man would be able to tell that it wasn't the same voice as his son. So instead he stepped back out of the shower and wrapped the towel around his waist so that he could go to the door. Tugging it open just a little, he looked out, wanting to see what their father looked like.

§ Carter was surprised to see the door open and he had his hands on his hips. "Everything all right?" Something was off about Nixon and that worried Carter. He was overly protective of the kid, knowing in the back of his mind that he'd already failed his son by not making it work with his mother. The man was of average height, blond, blue eyed like Nixon. He was exactly as their father should look.

§ Nodding a little bit, he studied Carter's face and his eyes and the way that he looked and then he just nodded again. "Fine." He murmured, keeping his voice low. "Just taking a shower." He didn't give carter much room to reply before he shut the door and locked it. What could he even say to that man at the moment? Nothing. So he dropped his towel and climbed back into the shower, trapping himself inside with all the steam that had built up in his absence.

§ He was close to knocking again, but stopped himself, recalling how upset Nixon got when he was too nosy. Sighing and just resting his hand against the wood of the door, Carter left after a few moments and went back into his room, narrowly missing Nixon who had a pile of clean clothes. When he tried the door and found it locked, Nixon knocked quietly.

§ "Just a minute." Kennedy called out, thinking maybe it was his father again and he didn't want to be bothered until he was clean and dressed. He finished his shower, having scrubbed himself clean, and then he got out and wrapped a towel tightly around himself before opening the door again. When he saw it was Nixon he was more than a little relieved and he let his brother come into the bathroom.

§ "We're the same size, obviously." He seemed pleased by that and set the clothes on the counter. "Your soup is ready. Are you feeling any better?" He was very concerned about Kennedy's well being and it made him feel more stable to take care of someone rather than thinking about what had happened to his brother.

§ Nodding a little bit he took the clothes. "I'm going to get dressed and brush my teeth and then I will be out, all right?" He didn't tell him that he'd seen his father. Their father. He would once he was dressed and maybe once he'd had a little bit to eat.

§ He nodded, leaving Kennedy to his own devices, going to wait outside the door. When Kennedy came out, he led him to his bedroom, figuring it would be better if, for now, the new wolf stayed with him.

§ Dressed in clean clothes, he felt warmer now, having layered the long sleeved shirt and sweatshirt that Nixon had given him and then he had even put on the socks to keep his feet warm. As they made their way to Nixon's room he stepped a little closer, leaning in against him. "Your dad knocked on the door, he thought I was you. I didn't say anything."