GSTFB-2

Chapter 37- Epilogue

A/N: (11/7/12): This it. Ginger Snaps: The Feral Bond is done (This draft, at least). I'll append a final author's note on this in the next couple days for anyone interested. Right now, I just want to get you the last words, for those wondering what finally became of Brigitte, Ginger and June.

To all of you who have followed it all this time, I hope this has been an enjoyable story. I'm sorry I couldn't do it quicker.

Chapter 37:

EPILOGUE: THE RESCUES

Two years later-

Brigitte and June sat across from each other in a diner. They were checking out a guy leaving. He was a teenager― with dark, tangled hair― who wore brown corduroy pants, a blue and gray striped shirt, and red and green athletic shoes.

Their plates were empty but they still had drinks. A third plate lay next to Brigitte, the seat still warm. "So, what d'ya think?" she asked earnestly.

June suppressed a giggle. "I think that's the worst fashion atrocity I've ever seen."

Brigitte was unfazed. "Yes, he doesn't care about how he dresses, but he smells wild doesn't he?"

June, didn't turn from the door. Though she could no longer see him, she sniffed the last of his scent. She gazed sidelong at her friend. "Yes, his blood smells attractive, like raw meat, rosemary, hickory and all that, but he wears a little too much of his life, eh? About two weeks worth, I think."

Brigitte's face fell. "You mean he needs a shower? Okay, yeah, but that's part of what I like about him. He's such an open book."

"Yes, in an unconventional sense, and I'll give you this: at least he has no other girls on him."

Brigitte smirked. "No, he's all virgin."

"Extra virgin, as only olive oil should be."

Brigitte chuckled. June turned to face her, and tapped her own turquoise nails lightly on the table. "Not exactly chaste, though. I smelled a lot of solo sex."

This made Brigitte almost spit her milkshake with laughter. "A detail you didn't have to mention."

"I'm concerned. I think you might be getting too much into character. You're a nineteen-year-old finishing high school, pretending to be fifteen. Lewis might squelch the experiment if he knew about him."

"Practice, to prove I can fit in again," said Brigitte. "That's what it's supposed to be about, right?"

June shook her head. "I don't think he meant you could prey on the natives, and― till now― I thought you had to be a senior to be a cougar."

Brigitte scoffed and kicked June under the table. "It's in character to show interest in guys."

"Yes, but you call attention to yourself by hitting on a . . . um . . ."

"Total dweeb?"

"You said it."

"It isn't how it looks; I promise you."

"I can see you're being protective. When he arrived with his fly open, you kindly zipped him up when you hugged him hello. Very sly and tactful there, Bee. He never noticed. I almost lost it." June raised her eyebrows. "What game are you playing with him?"

Brigitte leaned over the table. "Look, he needs help or he's doomed. I'm trying to give it to him."

"You? How?"

"I have a plan. Wednesday we'll have our first date: a confidence builder. I'll kiss him." June was about to say something, but Brigitte held up her hands. "No farther, I swear. Friday, we'll go out, but I'll get angsty before second base. Saturday, I'll call and break up with him. Monday, I'll have him friended. A little counseling from yours truly, and a week later, he begins to look at himself in the mirror. Then the makeover will start. Within a month, lookout! He's a new kid with bankrolls of cool and a high school survival guide."

June nodded. "Sounds like your appointment book is full."

"See? I'm not going to take advantage of him. That would be heinous."

"Why is it your job to do this?

"You were never a high school outcast, June. I just feel for him."

"And his scent has nothing to do with it? I get suspicious you're just horny, and you're going to tease yourself if you don't watch it. With his blood aroma, that first kiss might be much better than you think."

Brigitte shook her head. "June– "

"Well it makes sense. I don't know how you're handling the celibacy. If you're going to try this, you should hook up with someone first."

Brigitte turned her palms up. "I would, except I don't want to break anybody's bones."

June turned her gaze aside, ashamed. "I know."

"So, what's the news on your ex?"

June looked sad. "According to my sources, he had surgery; they inserted some pins, but he still won't see me. You want to know what's the worst, Bee? Until I heard his bones snap, it was the best sex I ever had."

Brigitte gazed back, pensive. "Yeah, you told me."

"I did?" June shook her head. "Keep yourself under control with this kid. If you don't, he might not survive." June whispered, "Besides, if it happens, everybody's going to know you jumped a minor."

Brigitte looked crestfallen. "Yes, scandal. Bad for the Institute."

"Bad for us, too, Bee. We've worked too hard. Don't waste it all by teasing the beast." June took a deep breath to let her point settle. "Hey, summer's coming fast. You remember months ago we talked about July?"

Now Brigitte looked up from beneath her hair. "Algonquin Park? The powwow?"

June nodded. "But let's not get our hopes up. It's been eleven years since those women sold you these skull talismans," said June, fingering hers. "The trail might be a little cold."

"So? Let's test our sleuthing. I'm thinking whoever did it had a lot of power: they'd be remembered. They at least had some pull with the tribe. Let's go, pitch a tent, and ask around. It'd be a good vacation anyway." Brigitte stopped to sip her milkshake. "Did you find out anything new about their powers?"

"Yes, just this morning. Mine led me right to a haunt, an old farm shed. But the ghost was surly and annoying, not to mention weak. I'm glad I commanded him not to follow me. I would've liked to tell him to go to Hell, but I'm not that much of a shit.

"No progress in summoning anything, though. The magic books I'm finding are mostly bogus. How did Willow on Buffy ever find so many real ones?"

"Any new information about re-summoning. . . ?" With a moment's pause, Brigitte became hopeful, but then June shook her head. Brigitte's lips turned down. "It's been over two years since I saw her."

"It just means she's moved on, Bee. Ghosts are anomalies. After death, they're not able to leave the world of the living for various reasons, but they don't fit here. You knew while Ginger haunted you she wasn't happy."

"I remember when we were supposed to be together forever."

"She was your entire world, then, and you hers. Was that really healthy?"

Brigitte choked up, but held June's gaze with dry eyes. "I don't know. Is what's between us really healthy?"

"I don't know," June smiled, and touched Brigitte's hand, "but I can work with it." They were at a loss to describe their bond: they weren't lovers, though they had tried; they weren't really sisters in a human way; they were too close for friends, and they definitely weren't mother-daughter or mentor-protege. Maybe it had to do both with the magical bond the skulls imposed on them, and the way werewolfism affected their minds. Perhaps it was because they both stood, unsuccessfully, against a major disaster. Each had fought to save the other as well. "I miss Ginger, too."

"Knowing she's still somewhere helps, but the afterlife she told you about sounds so weird. It's nothing that any religion teaches you. Are we ever going to find her again? I wish she could write a letter– "

June opened her mouth to say something when her cellphone began to play Prokofiev, Peter and the Wolf. Brigitte knew that wasn't a call but an alarm. June said, "It's time." She turned, called to the tall, brunette waitress. "Di, check please."

Diane came over. In her early 20s with raven hair, she wore a blue, short-sleeve dress. On her back wrist, she sported a wolf's head: not a tattoo, but henna. "Here, you two going to meeting tonight?"

"No," said June, she gestured to Brigitte. "We have a family thing today."

"Oh, yeah! I forgot. Congratulations, Brigitte! It's been close to four years, hasn't it?"

"Yes," said Brigitte shaking her head, "never thought today would be possible, but the Institute did it."

June handed her a credit card. "How'd your weekend go?"

"Depressing, of course. You know, damn full moons, but it wasn't any worse."

June and Brigitte exchanged glances. They always felt the letdown, too, like a party they prepared for all month only to find they weren't invited. Diane, also a rescue, was cured before the shape-shift. When werewolfism let go, it left behind a soul-crushing depression. Rescues needed help.

Brigitte and June were still the only ones brought back post-transformation. The others held them in awe. The two didn't like to think of themselves as being the Institute's "pet project," but found the term "rescues" applicable.

"You want to go and see Bitter Syrup Saturday at The Edge?" Diane asked.

June nodded. Brigitte shrugged and said, "We'll keep it open. With this 'family thing,' we don't know."

"Institute researchers don't know exactly why the spirits there became so powerful that week," said Lewis. "Ghost sightings increased worldwide then, so our people theorize that other, yet undiscovered, dark-matter particles– besides nematons– came into play. Exotic Matter Bio-Transphysics is such a new field. Being a witness myself, that night was a great convergence of some kind. We were in a hotspot. Whatever caused it, I hope I never see anything like it again."

He sat in an easy chair in a large, plush living room. His hair was now mostly gray, and he had grown a salt-and-pepper beard. No longer was he an investigator or hunter. Brigitte and June sat on a couch to the left of him. Another man, Travis, whose striking, blue eyes flashed as he interviewed them, sat opposite. His digital recorder lay on the coffee table, red light on.

He asked, "Was any other evidence recovered from the site?"

"No," said Lewis. "That was pretty much as the press reported. Nothing could be recovered from the Four Point area, because the fire burned at over 5,000 degrees Celsius— and caused a forest fire— in the dead of winter. Crews couldn't even get near the site for days. We don't know how Che-Opps accomplished it. The official investigation, as you know, found that chemicals stored around the compound since World War II somehow exploded. At that time, the hospital building was used as a workers' dormitory for some secret war project being undertaken in the surrounding facilities. That explains some of the warehouses, however, no record of that program survives, in Canada at least. Therefore, the commission couldn't know what those chemicals were. They reached this conclusion either in collaboration with Che-Opps or, more likely, in ignorance of it. For the parents and relatives of the ninety-three people lost there, that report was no comfort."

Brigitte threw her hair back and thought of how the casualties were higher than ninety-three. June killed nineteen soldiers herself, and they weren't counted in the government's figure.

"What happened to Che-Opps?" asked Travis, shrugging.

"They're gone with hardly a trace, another miracle," said Lewis. "Not that they've been dissolved. No, they just changed their name to something else, moved their headquarters, and they're operating under new auspices. A chameleon organization."

Travis turned to Brigitte and June. "What happened to you after the disaster?"

June cleared her throat while Brigitte spoke up. "For me, the year after it happened was almost as bad as the two years before. We both had that depression I told you about, but worse— I can't describe— it took a full year just to begin to feel human again."

"Does that describe it for you, June?" asked Travis.

She nodded. "I felt so weak, and I missed all that strength and speed. You're always anticipating pain, like your bones are about to change shape again. I hated being . . . vulnerable."

Brigitte added, "And I'd lived on the edge so long, I couldn't step back, but she had worse things going on than me."

June gazed at Brigitte then at the interviewer. "I had a psychosis, major headaches and seizures, but I don't know if those were worse than what you went through, Bee."

"She would get an attack, starting with a bad headache. Then she'd either have a seizure or she'd get violent, and I was the only one who could restrain her."

June picked up on the thought. "But those began to get better almost a year later and stopped completely in five more months. I don't know if they finally got the medication right, or what. But it happened as the psychotic episodes were going away, too. And then there were nightmares. We still have those."

"Oh, yes, but for a while, we would have them all through the night. We had them so much that we slept in the same bed." Brigitte chuckled. "And no, we're not lesbians, despite what you've been thinking."

Travis cleared his throat.

June laughed. "Yeah, we're like the Ambiguously Gay Duo."

"Except definitely straight." Brigitte looked away and sighed. "About two months into that first year, the worst thing happened to me," she paused, averted her eyes again, wringing her hands.

This gave Lewis a start. It was news to him.

"Do you want me to say?" said June.

Brigitte shook her head and met the men's stares. "I miscarried." Her voice choked. "I don't know what it was or who the father was. I don't remember anything I did after moonrise Saturday."

June put her hand on Brigitte's shoulder. "Y'okay?"

Brigitte nodded. June swept Brigitte's hair out of the way and murmured something in her ear.

Travis was amazed, but Lewis stayed impassive. He was used to these affectionate gestures between them.

Brigitte reached for the glass of water on the table, while June continued for her. "That was the same month we discovered silver ion wasn't really a cure either. It worked for everyone else– "

"Everyone given the cure in the earlier stages, but not us," said Brigitte. "We have to take it before the full moon or the changes will start up again for the next cycle." Brigitte shook her head. "Oh, but I'll tell you, at least it's just once a month and there are no side effects– "

June lifted her finger to correct. "Minor ones."

"'Cause taking monkshood was brutal. Silver ion is a strawberry daiquiri compared to it."

"Do you notice any lasting changes from who you were?" asked Travis.

"Yes, well, my body wasn't exactly the same," said Brigitte. "I'm a nineteen-year-old who looks fifteen." She held up her hand. "My fingers? My toes? Not the same length they were. My teeth are in slightly different places. They're actually straighter and in mint condition. My nose is a little different." She looked at June.

"With me, my body looks about the same as when I started. Just more toned."

Brigitte turned to Lewis. "Yes, why would there be that difference?"

Lewis answered, "It's unknown. It's probably because you stopped the changes for two years with monkshood."

Travis turned to June. "Are you otherwise the same physically?"

"Not exactly," said June. "I can't sing high soprano anymore. I'm also deaf in my left ear, which ends my musical ambitions, and— " she looked at Brigitte, who nodded. "We're both stronger and faster than we have the right to be."

"That's a strange way of putting it," said Brigitte with a grin. "But yeah. The other rescues don't have this. We're not as agile and powerful as we were during the changes, but– "

June said, "Might as well say it. I think we'd break world records if we'd compete."

He nodded. "What are you doing now and for the future?"

Brigitte said, "We both started school again, me in high school, her in college. We help other rescues. It's hard for anybody to be human again after they're infected. There's confusion, alienation, boredom, depression and, man, is there guilt. Our support group helps them adjust. Also, we're both interning at the Institute's investigations division, under Lewis, while we get our degrees."

From outside, a horn sounded. Lewis nodded to Brigitte. "That would your father. Do mind if I come along, Brigitte? I've been looking forward to this day, too."

"Of course," she answered, standing up. "I'm surprised you bothered to ask. I assumed you wanted to be there."

Lewis turned back to Travis. "This is it for me today too, then."

The interviewer nodded.

In the foyer, they put on their coats and said their goodbyes to Travis.

Henry waited out front in a dark blue van. June got in first and hugged him. He kissed her on the cheek, like a daughter, and did the same with Brigitte. The two young women both settled into the back seat. Lewis rode shotgun.

"Man! Are we on time?" Brigitte asked, checking her phone.

Henry said, "They're not going to get done early, honey. They never do things fast."

She flexed her hand, redirecting her impatience. "Okay, whatever you say, Dad."

June tapped Brigitte's wrist. "Hey, when we arrive. I gotta surprise for you, Bee."

"Really? You're joking." She sniffed June, looked her up and down to see where she could be hiding it. "How?"

"I'm not saying. Gives you something else to anticipate on the way out." Brigitte beamed.

So did Henry as he pulled from the curb. In a few minutes, they were on the Trans-Canada. Brigitte and June began playing a team game, Battle Lines, on their phones. Henry and Lewis talked about whether the Maple Leafs were about to blow it again this year.

"Damn!" yelled Brigitte. "She got me, again!" She stopped herself from throwing her phone through the windshield. She and June hadn't broken a phone or game set in five months, and she didn't want to start again.

Lewis looked back; Henry said, "What is it?"

"That LuLu is too good. She must be cheating."

Lewis chuckled. Henry said, "Brigitte, remember sportsmanship."

"Dad, nobody beats us."

"Honey everybody loses."

"No, you don't understand, Dad. Nobody can beat us."

Then June lost as well and shouted, "Fucking bitch!" Brigitte caught her friend's hand in mid-throw, preventing the phone from being spiked into the floor and stomped. She spoke in the tone of peremptory command. "June! Control your rage!" Meeting Brigitte's gaze, June's color went from crimson to normal.

"Oops!" June smirked sheepishly as she shrugged. "The bitch got me, too. You don't think LuLu could mean— "

Brigitte's eyes popped. "Lupine?" They exchanged wary stares. "Get her IP, quick!" June began to key in commands when Brigitte's phone rang.

The screen showed a name: LuLu. "What?" She answered, "Hello?"

"Hello Brigitte!" said a seething female voice that delivered the words in an envelope of sarcasm.

The phone wasn't on speaker, but June heard and barely restrained herself from jumping through the sunroof. "Shay?"

This got attention from the front seat. "It's Shay?" said Lewis, Brigitte nodded, her mouth wide open.

"You think you got away with it― that you can have a quiet, respectable, easy life― after what you did to me?"

"Who is she?" said Henry. As Lewis began to remind him, Brigitte waved to them to be quiet.

"She's alive!" cried June. "Bee, let me talk to her!"

"Oh, hello June," said Shay, who picked up her voice from the background, and dropped the sarcasm. "Long time no see. Let's catch up later, though. This is a business call. You're really rolling with the wrong crowd, and you better decide who your real friends are. By the way, I just creamed your asses in BL."

"What d'ya want, Shay?" asked Brigitte.

"Simple. You're gonna pay for what you did, bitch, and I'm coming to collect."

"Shay, I'm sorry. I wasn't responsible for my actions."

Shay laughed bitterly. Her voice turned bestial. "How lame. Neither am I." She cleared her throat, and her voice went human again. "You'll see me soon, and you won't know when. It's up to you how many other people get dragged into this, Brigitte. And June, we'll get together and laugh about this some time after it's over."

The call clicked off. Silence settled like a shroud.

"Who's Shay?" asked Henry.

"A patient at Four Point, Daddy. I'll explain it to you tonight.

"She survived!" June said, overjoyed.

"But she wants me dead!"

"Oh, yeah . . . there's that."

"After all this time, how can she still be human?" said Lewis.

"I don't know," said Brigitte, "but it sounded like she's found some way to control the changes."

"Che-Opps," said Lewis. "She must have been captured. They must be behind her."

"Oh, Shay's a mean fighter. I'd buy tickets to it if I weren't already involved." said June, smiling.

"You wouldn't think of choosing her over me, would you?"

"No!" said June, affronted. "Not even for a second. How can you imagine that, Bee? I've already made my choice. She's already lost me."

"Sorry, I knew you and her got close."

"I got close enough to know she's a personality disorder. Notice how she took my decision for granted? She's going to hate me when she finds out that's not how I feel.

Henry began to drive again as Lewis said, "Remember, if Che-Opps is working with her for some reason, the Institute won't have near their resources."

"Nice," said June.

Brigitte said to her, "Stay alert. We'll have to arm ourselves when we get back home." June nodded, looking sombre.

"We're here," said Henry.

They were almost in the countryside and turned into a parking lot of a large hulking building. Something about its design made June and Brigitte cringe.

"Why would she warn us?" asked Brigitte.

"Poor impulse control," June answered. "I'm guessing she's not quite ready to attack, but she craves satisfaction."

June could smell the mixture of angst, blood lust, and hope in her friend's sweat. On the surface, Brigitte only showed tension. "Are you going to be okay?" asked June.

"Of course," said Brigitte, with a sudden smile.

They found a parking spot. June took out a camera. "For the Wall of Fame," she said, grinning.

Brigitte choked up from memories the phrase evoked. For a few seconds, Brigitte missed her old, safe life in Bailey Downs: a childhood with Ginger so good they never wanted it to end. Once, Ginger's companionship was all Brigitte needed: a deep, warm, innocent devotion. To a kid, it felt eternal.

But it couldn't stop time, nor prevent it from changing them. The child within Brigitte shed tears. The adult in her knew better: to have once been happy should never be a curse.

They walked toward a guarded gate and sat on the benches under a gazebo, saying nothing. Only a short time passed before they heard a buzzing. They all stood up.

A suitcase and plastic bag in her hands, Pamela Fitzgerald emerged. She was a free woman, her name cleared, after four years. Her black hair showed gray. Gone was her veneer of constant, desperate optimism. Crow's feet at the corners of her eyes deepened with joy when she saw Brigitte, who― like a child― dashed up to her. "Mom! Mom!" They embraced and and kissed. Brigitte was so taken with glee, she picked her mother up.

Pamela's eyes went wide awe, but she still said, "Brigitte! My baby!" and her daughter didn't care. Pamela's smile was the first sincere elation Brigitte could remember seeing on her face.

June clicked pictures as tears welled up in mother and daughter's eyes. Henry caught up and hugged and kissed his wife.

June handed the camera to Lewis when her turn to hug Brigitte's mother came. "Pamela, congratulations and welcome to the free world!"

"June, thank you, and thanks again for watching after Brigitte."

June answered, "It was the other way around, actually."

Brigitte laughed. "Mom, did I tell you she's a liar?"

June gave her pack sister a wink. "And I'm about to prove it."

She stepped away. Her expression turned solemn. Even expecting a surprise, Brigitte gaped at what her friend said next.

"I have a message for you from Ginger– "

THE END

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