The Hidden Princess At All-Boys Alpha Academy

"I can't, man," Cristof says, shaking his head, his face breaking a bit to show the true sorrow that's running through him. "I have to get back."

"Back?" Jackson asks, going still. His hands tighten on Cristof's shoulders. "Cris, don't go back – it's fucking awful there, it's so much better here - there's so much you don't know -"

"There's so much you don't know," Cristof snarls, stepping towards Jackson and baring his teeth. His eyes flick to the Alphas standing on the steps, all who move forward towards them. But Jackson flashes up a hand towards Jesse and Rafe and the others. They pause, tense.

"What's going on?" Jackson asks, his voice low and serious, finally realizing that...that something really is wrong. "Why can't you stay? We - we'll build a life for you, Cris. We can do that, we really can -"

But Cristof just shakes his head, his throat working. "I have to get back. Zachary -" his voice breaks on the name and he hangs his head.

Jackson's hands tighten. "What's wrong with Zachary?" he growls.

“He's.....in fucking deep, Jackson. They..." Cristof taps his temple with a finger. "They got into his head, or whatever. He's - it's fucking awful, okay? And the command is getting really cruel, way worse than it was when you left - they're... hurting people..." Cristof's words come out thin and choked towards the end and he looks away, working very hard to avoid crying.

"Come inside," Jackson says, his hands tightening on Cristof's shoulders. "We'll tell the King - there are people who want to help –“

"I'm not talking to that jackass King," Cristof snarls, stepping away from Jackson and jerking himself out of Jackson's grasp.

"He's not like that - everything they told us in the Community were fucking lies Cristof -"

"Did they get into your head, Jackson?" Cristof asks, again looking up at the palace, worried. "You're all fucking...fancy now? And turned your back on your people? Just...left us?"

"Cristof," Jackson says, holding a hand out towards his friend, guilt running through him because...well, because the accusation hits hard. And it's not completely untrue. "I'm...trying. I'm working with a doctor to get aid - to get people in -"

"Well, it's not working, Jackson!" Cristof bites out, tears starting from his eyes now. He snarls, wiping hard at his face with his sleeve, desperately unhappy that his emotions have worked their way to the surface. "They're fucking hurting us, Jacks! And the ones who run away, they get fucking killed if they don't starve to death - they're —"

"Who gets killed?" Jackson whispers, grabbing Cristof's arm again.

"Jacks, do you need help?" Rafe asks, and Jackson whips his head to the side to see his friends all standing close. But Jackson snarls, telling them wordlessly to stay back, and Rafe holds up his hands, letting Jacks know that he'll obey.

“Who. Gets. Killed,” Jackson snarls, turning back to Cristof, his hand tightening on his arm.

"Your fucking Tasha girl, for one," Cristof growls back, anger and jealousy and rage and terror all plain on his face.

All the blood drains from Jackson's face and he just stares at his friend, who glances over at the Princes and the duke and the ambassador and wipes again at his face, at the tears streaking down his cheeks.

Jackson just stares at Cristof, hardly breathing. "How do you know about Tasha?"

—

Because never - not once - did he

tell anyone about her. Ariel - and

—

Hank and Ella they're the only

ones on earth who have heard hernoveldrama

name from his lips.

-

"Because she found me, Jackson," Cristof says, freely crying now even despite his efforts to stop. “She ran when she got big-bellied - and she was starving - her and the pup both - and she needed help, and she begged me for anything - helped them, I did everything I could in secret, but it wasn't enough -"

Jackson's heart pounds in his chest. The pup.

A pup.

Tasha - and...

Tasha and a pup.

"They died?" he whispers, shaking Cristof hard, needing an answer now.

Cristof just stares at him for a too-long moment. Jackson's entire life, his reality, hangs in the balance and he waits, desperate, not breathing.

"Tasha died," Cristof whispers.

Then he turns, his arm slipping out of Jackson's hand, and reaches for the handle

to the door on the back seat of the car.

Jackson's heart seizes in his chest.