Henry watched as the water in the tub rose almost all the way to the. He stripped out of what remained of his clothes, double checking that the door was shut tight before letting himself sink down into the heavenly warmth of the bathwater. He wondered if a bath could soak away the grime of a week’s worth of living in the elements, or if he was hoping to wash away some deeper feeling of uncleanliness. Henry had struggled with this sort of internal battle before, wondering if he really should pursue his gender transition change, but in his heart, he always knew it was the right thing to do. The only thing possible for him to do. Henry supposed, like faith in God or other deities, that he would always be tested with this question. Henry didn’t know why, but somehow Louis’ opinion mattered. However, Louis was as guarded about his opinion as he was about what he intended to do with Henry.

Surely Louis wasn’t going to kill him. If he was, he would have done it by now. Henry felt Louis might have a more calculated vision as to what to do with Henry now that he had captured his enemy.

Henry had become so used to living in glass castles, he had forgotten that glass shatters, splinters out in a web across its once smooth surface, the cracks reaching all corners of the kingdom before it crashes in chaos. What did Louis stand to gain by keeping Henry hostage? Henry’s material possessions were probably long since dispersed amongst those in his pack back at home. His properties were surely seized by the Coastal Maine’s pack lawyers, or at least an attempt would have been made to take control. The acknowledgement that he had captured his enemy was a real gold mine for Louis, Henry imagined. If Louis wanted to, he could use his captivity to seize control of the entire state and fuse the two packs into one. Henry closed his eyes as the warm water rushed over his skin and he dearly wished it would seep into his soul. Henry had nothing. Henry controlled nothing. He felt as if he were nothing. Henry had identified for so long as Amiraut, the surgeon, pack leader of Coastal Maine. Now who was he?

Henry supposed he could convince Louis to allow him to go to Massachusetts and start over, but a feeling of dread sunk into his skin at the thought. Henry wanted to go home. Henry felt the warmth of tears slip down his cheeks. Henry wasn’t even sure if he was crying about the loss of his pack and friends, his captivity or the loss of everything he had worked so hard to build. Before he knew it, Henry was hunched over and with his ribs jutting out. He was clutching his knees and rocking back and forth in the water as his whole body shook with great wracking sobs.

Henry wasn’t sure how long he cried, and he didn’t hear the door to the bathroom slowly glide open. He jumped splashing water over the edge of the porcelain tub when a hand went to the back of his neck. He rubbed his eyes and looked up to find Louis kneeling beside the tub.

“It’s going to be alright, Henry,” Louis murmured. His face was taut with concern, which confused Henry. They were enemies. Why did Louis care how Henry felt about it all? He shouldn’t be offering to keep him safe here, even if he was technically his prisoner. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve told you that.”

Henry felt the rawness in his throat when he responded. “Then what do you want from me? The pack? Take it, you can have control of the state. I’m not going to fight you on it.”

Louis genuinely look surprised. “What do you mean, ‘take the pack’?”

“I’m your prisoner, so you obviously want to gain something from me. The only thing I have left that the pack wouldn’t have gotten their hands on is pack itself. Coupled with your control of the north…” He trailed off. If Louis hadn’t thought of this already he’d just put the idea into his head. How stupid could he be?

Henry dropped his head between his knees as more fat tears slid down his cheeks. Henry thought he had seen the lowest point of his life while living on the streets of Portland. But that was before he experienced the humiliation of public shame and excommunication from a pack. His street gang accepted anyone who needed a place to eat and sleep, so long as they did so within that particular gang’s territory. Henry had chosen to leave, to find better things for himself and to finally be who he was meant to be. Now that Henry had finally become someone, he suddenly felt like a nobody again, only this time there were plenty of people to bear witness to his downfall.

“As tempting as that is, I don’t want control of the Coastal pack.”

“Huh?” Henry’s head whipped back up and he quickly scrubbed at his cheeks, hating the evidence of the tears that had streaked down through the grime.

“It’s strange, but I find myself in a peculiar position. I think there are things you aren’t telling me about yourself, and I find I am more interested in learning what those things are than expanding my territory. I also have the sense that those things played a vital role in the incident that led to us becoming enemies. I wonder if there might be a way to broker peace between the two halves of the state if we find that whatever caused the rift can be mended.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Henry wanted to look away again, but before he could he felt Louis’ fingertips under his chin, lifting his face to meet Louis’ gaze.

“Truly? Because I question your status as an alpha. You respond to me as a beta might, or even a female alpha who--”

“I am not female!” Louis let go of his chin, but Henry didn’t look away.

“No. No, you are not. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so insensitive.”

“I…I’m sorry too. It’s just the one thing in my life I am certain of. Especially now that everything about my life is so uncertain.”

“Yes, I can see that. I’m sorry. I only meant that before you transitioned, it’s possible that you were a male-identifying female alpha. You know this. It is possible you are alpha, just in terms of wolves as a population, not as…what is the word?”

“Masculine?”

“No, that’s not right. You’re right, you’re a man. Aggressive, perhaps?”

Henry didn’t immediately answer. Louis was close to something Henry didn’t want to reveal. Henry didn’t trust him completely. Despite Louis’ kind actions so far, Henry had only ever known him as his enemy. Louis could change his mind about keeping Henry around for a while and keeping him safe. Henry didn’t want him to know that he was an omega, a peacekeeper. Henry was aggressive when he had to be, but he preferred to settle things differently. Male omegas can get pregnant. Being born female, he shouldn’t naturally have been omega, but sometimes nature messed up the order of things. Henry had always known he was supposed to be male. His heart and mind trumped his anatomy, and so Henry was male, meaning he must be an omega.

“Perhaps aggressive is right, or maybe it is just that I have had a trying week.” That was the best noncommittal answer Henry could think of. Henry would have to be more cognizant of Louis’ using dominance to pressure him. He couldn’t give in so easily or let Louis catch him crying in the bathtub again.

Perhaps tomorrow after he’d had a full night’s sleep he would begin standing strong once again, because Louis had taken a cup from the stand beside the sink, opened it and pressed his palm gently against Henry’s forehead, forcing Henry to tip his head back as Louis poured warm water down through his hair.

Henry had a difficult time keeping his eyes open as he felt Louis’ fingers massaging floral shampoo into his hair. He bit his lip to keep from moaning at the gentle massage and he relished the feel of the warm water once again being poured over his scalp. He heard the rush of clean water in the sink each time Louis refilled the cup. Henry thought he was in ecstasy when he felt the soft brush of a washcloth slide over his shoulders, and Henry opened his eyes to stare at Louis, whose green eyes displayed just the slightest hint of yellow in their depths. Henry knew he should not expose himself so easily, but he had never had anyone take care of him like this before. Henry had always been one to look after himself. He couldn’t remember his own family. Henry knew they had been killed by a rival pack within the city when he was very young. Henry had been taken in by the Portland City Werewolves. Eventually Henry had grown in strength and power, even as a female, and he had challenged his way to the top of the pack. To have someone take care of him now, with such tender and gentle care, Henry felt the sting of tears forming again and he blinked to fight them from falling.

Henry realized he must be having this much of a reaction because of a hormonal imbalance. He hadn’t taken his hormone pill for over a week now. He had missed it before, though never for this long. He felt anxious thinking about what other symptoms he was due to experience. How would he get more pills?

Henry watched Louis’ face as he washed his back and then moved around to his wash his chest. Henry cupped himself when the washcloth dipped below the water line, and Louis nodded without saying anything. He skipped over Henry’s groin and washed his legs. When Louis was finished, he pulled the drain on the plug and let the now foggy water drain away. When it was empty, Louis re-inserted the plug and began filling the tub back up with clean water.

“Do you bathe all your wolves?” Henry cracked a joke. It was an unusual feeling, being in someone’s care this way, and his extreme exhaustion had him feeling loopy.

“I give my wolves whatever they need, no matter how unusual or uncomfortable that might be to followers of traditional standards. Sometimes, the wolves I take in don’t know what they need. It’s my job to determine what that is, whether physical, mental or emotional, and provide it.”

“Do you always define yourself by your status as a wolf?”

“Of course not. We are all multi-layered beings. But it’s important to recognize when those layers stack cohesively and when there is an imbalance within the self so that attention can be spent to aid the part of ourselves that needs it.”

“Are you preaching to me about the Eight Dimensions of the Wellness Wheel?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You know, healthy people are a wheel comprised of eight parts. Emotional well-being, spiritual, intellectual, physical, social, environmental, financial and, um... oh yeah, occupational. When one cog of the wheel is askew, so is the person’s entire health and well-being.”

“Ah, no. I prefer to take Abraham Maslow’s approach and his Hierarchy of Needs.”

“I don’t remember them all.” Henry was amused. He’d never imagined he would be bathed by his sworn enemy while discussing psychology. Henry’s life suddenly felt so surreal.

“Maslow postulated that one requires their basic needs met first. These are at the bottom of the pyramid. Food, water, warmth. The next layer up is safety. Then the pyramid transitions to psychological needs. Belongingness and love, for example, intimate relationships and friends.” Henry winced at these words. His pyramid certainly had come crashing down around him this past week. Louis continued. “Then there is esteem such as prestige and accomplishments, and at the top of the pyramid is self-fulfillment and self-actualization. Maslow theorized that the self-actualization meant one has achieved their full potential and could thus partake in creative needs and expression.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“Yes, your physiological needs need to be seen to. I think working from Maslow’s theory and how it pertains to werewolves is a good way to help find the ones who are struggling or lost in themselves. Sometimes meeting the basic needs can shed light onto the more complex issues they might be facing.”

Boy, didn’t Henry have a lot of those. Henry felt like it would be easier just to plunk the top of his pyramid down at Louis’ feet and say, “Here is all that’s left.” It wasn’t easy having his kingdom swept out from under his feet.

Louis turned the water off and Henry let his head fall to his knees, but this time Henry turned his head to the side and watched as Louis stood. Henry had the strangest sense that he didn’t want Louis to go, but Louis had left the washcloth and soap on the edge of the tub.

“I’ll give you your privacy now. I have to go see my pack and give them an explanation for your presence. Remember, you are not Henry Amiraut, at least until we can figure out how to help you. Take all the time you need here in the tub. I’ll bring more food later. There’s a clean bathrobe on the bed and a new toothbrush in the medicine cabinet over there.” Louis pointed to the cabinet which sat above a porcelain sink. The bathroom was done in a pale blue with accents of seashells native to the Maine coastline. It reminded him of home.

“Rest, Henry. There will be time later for everything else.”

Henry nodded and closed his eyes. Henry didn’t cry, but he couldn’t help feeling that he lacked an identity. He didn’t know who he was or how he fit into the world, and that was scarier than anything he had faced onn the streets of Portland, scarier than the entirety of his old pack bearing down on him in the dead of night, intent to rip his throat out and bay at the moon. All Henry could focus on was that he was sitting in a claw-foot tub in the home of his enemy. But at least he was alive. Henry pondered Shakespeare’s quote, “To be, or not to be.” Was he to be Henry Amiraut again? Or would he change his identity all over again, this time the stakes higher than anything he had ever faced?