Ache and Ire

Hope drew a heart with the pad of her middle finger on the cold taxi window. Declan wasn't kidding, it was really chilly in Ireland -but so beautiful. She got out at the address he'd given her. It was a restaurant, Hope smiled up at the bronze letters. The Crescent Moon. He'd told her in a text he'd had his ways of seeing her mother every day.

Hope gave the hostess her name and was immediately ushered towards the back. As soon as their eyes met through the sea of kitchen staff, his face beamed with a smile she hadn't realized she missed so much.

"Kid..."

Hope hadn't planned on the tears, but they came unrelentingly as she flung herself into his arms, burying her face against his chest. Something clattered as he dropped everything to envelop her in the tightest hug she's had since her father told her goodbye.

"Holy guacamole, you've grown haven't ya?" She didn't have to look up to know he was crying too.

He let her eat anything she wanted in a private booth near the bar and once it neared closing hour she nursed a pint while watching him break down the kitchen, his cheery words like a soft blanket. This felt like home and she could almost pretend her mother was merely running late.

He wiped his hands on a thick cloth and leaned on his elbows; Hope had forgotten how much she loved the way he talked endlessly without a breath.

"My place is small, but tomorrow we leave for my grandmother's. Oh, you'll love it there Hope, you really will. It's like what you Americans expect Ireland to be. You'll see. We've got animals and my grandmother will try to fatten you up, be careful with her. There's a beautiful spot on the property that I think you'll find a lovely place to paint or photograph. Words won't do it justice, of course. I'll show you at sundown tomorrow, it'll steal your breath."

Hope chatted about school on their way out, loving that it was so easy to carry a conversation revolved around life's little things rather than the hard stuff. He didn't ask if she was eating enough or why there were circles under her eyes. He didn't ask a million questions about who was taking care of her with everyone gone or even about boyfriends. She remembered that was something her mother was drawn too; he's so uncomplicated and genuine, she'd heard her mother tell Aunt Freya.

Declan's place was even smaller than the flat he rented in New Orleans. She recognized some of his belongings and he'd even brought her painting that used to hang in Rousseau's. There was a calico cat who darted between their feet and screamed like she'd been forgotten for days.

"Don't let her fool ya, she eats better than I do," he smiled fondly, setting a plate of chunked salmon on the floor.

The pint of beer had given Hope a warm buzz but the wine Declan poured as they settled on the couch for a movie put her in an almost sedated state. He slung an arm around her shoulder like he used to when they watched MASH reruns. It had been a comfort while she was down about her dad not checking in anymore and now it was a comfort for much worse. She laid her cheek on Declan's shoulder, breathing him in; hints of sweat and that food smell from standing in front of a stove all day.

"I'm sorry kid, I can't keep my eyes open. Watch as long as you'd like, the sound won't bother me. The cat has a witching hour around five in the morning, I'm sorry for that. I think she becomes possessed. If you need anything, just be extra loud waking me up but please treat this home as if it were your own. Tomorrow will be a wonderful day, we can do anything you'd like. Oh, it's so good to see you, you have no idea how happy I was to hear you were coming."

Hope smiled up at him when he stood and ruffled her hair like she was still a young girl. She didn't go to bed for hours, his soft snores became comforting background noise. He really did sleep through anything. Hope had accidentally dropped a jar of olives when she got the munchies around two and he hadn't even stirred.

By three she was pretty drunk off the rest of the wine and her fingers smelled like olive juice no matter how many times she washed them in the small bathroom sink. She snooped through his things out of boredom, giggling like a child when she found a box of condoms stashed behind the extra toilet paper. It was weird thinking of him as some normal guy just trying to get laid like any other guy.

Hope fell asleep by five thirty after the cat had darted around the room for a while as if her tail had caught fire. It was hilarious. Hope's pretty sure she dreams about her mom and New Orleans.

The smell of bacon and coffee lifts her from the couch around eight. Declan smiles from the stove, a far away look behind his sleep-puffy eyes. Hope feels like puking but eats every bite anyway, smiling around a fork full of eggs when he nudges her bare toes playfully with his own under the table. It reminds her of the past, he had always done things like that to cheer her up, while her mom tried to keep her too busy to brood.

He lets her have the first shower and she uses his razor while humming a Stones song. She's wrapped up in a towel and dripping a trail across his room while he breezes by to take his turn. Hope flops back on his bed, her hair wrapped in the damp towel and only dressed in her bra and panties. The bed proved too comfortable for her hung over and sleep deprived state – she basically passed out with exhaustion.

When she came to, it was because the cat settled in the crook of Hope's tossed back arms. After dressing, she found Declan sitting cross legged on his couch, typing with quick clacking jabs on a laptop. Glasses sat low on his nose and cold air seeped through a cracked window. A piece of half eaten honey toast balanced on a plate at his knee.

"I'm so sorry," she sighed, rubbing her eyes.

He glanced up, "oh that's alright, you must have needed the sleep. I should have given you the bed last night, I just hadn't had time to wash the sheets and didn't want to do that to ya. If you're up for it, I thought we could leave after some lunch and head on to the farmhouse. My grandmother is thrilled to have another girl in the house. With Cami gone it's just a bunch of us O'Connell men who come around now."

They had lunch at his restaurant, a pretty chef with a huge smile brought the food out herself. Hope could tell there was something between them, she thought about the condoms she found while snooping.

On the road, she asked over the noisy engine, "do I look like her now that I'm older?"

His eyes and words are soft, his reply gentle, "it's hard to look at ya without seeing her too."

Hope nodded, satisfied with his answer. The family and people she had left all saw her father on her features and in her smile, most of the people who had loved Hayley Marshall the most were all gone now.

The farmhouse was beautiful. It sat nestled between rolling hills of vibrant green and a fenced in pasture with sheep and goats. Chickens clucked and roamed on the stone path leading to the front door, an old collie waiting with a thumping tail perked her ears at their approach.

Declan's grandmother was fairly old, her hands unsteady but her voice strong and eyes bright. She made a fuss over Hope, accent thick and words rapid just like Declan's.

"This is no kid, Deckie. What a beauty. Did you sightsee yet? You must go exploring the property later. Oh and Tomas is coming up for dinner with the children. He and Branna are at it again so she's left him for the time bein'."

Simultaneously, they both stated, "she'll be back..."

There were pictures of Cami everywhere, Hope picked up a framed photo of her as a child and traced her full cheeks with a fingernail. Maybe Cami was with her dad right now. Maybe they were watching in on them, happy that Declan could offer so much comfort and a sense of home and family.

Hope helped feed the animals, using her magic to coax even the most abrasive of the bunch to approach her outstretched hand. She could tame anything. It used to scare the hell out of her mom – they only went to the zoo once.

Declan walked her down a path after. It weaved through a valley and up a hill, the wind carrying an earthy and sweet scent. Once at the top, Hope felt something divine wash over her. The sun settled perfectly between two large hills in the distance, creating orange and pink shadowed beams over the land below. She felt like if she tried to reach out, she could pluck it from the sky like a peach.

Hope could feel his gaze when he asked softly, "it's breath taking, isn't it?" She nodded as he added in a choked tone, "it's where I go when I'm missing those that I've lost."

She tucked her hand into his when they walked back in silence; they both had her mother on their minds. When the farmhouse came into view, there was a new car parked aside Declan's. The sounds of children shouting carried from inside and Hope felt a moment of nervousness. Kids were strange creatures to her, she'd grown up surrounded by the oldest adults in the world and the pack kids weren't always accepting of her differences.

Declan's younger brother talked louder and faster than the rest of them. His kids were full of questions like "can you do a cartwheel?", "do you have any kids?", "what's your favorite animal?", "will you play hide and go seek with us?"

Hope played three rounds of the game after dinner, but they found her quickly every time.

"No fair, you guys know the house way better than I do!" Hope laughed, ruffling the youngest boy's mop of auburn curls.

The wife, Brenna, returned by dessert. Hope and Declan had to turn the television up in the bonus room to drown out the sounds of their make up sex. Declan looked way more embarrassed than Hope felt about it. She'd grown up with her mom and uncle in an open adjoining room - they were not always quiet. Sex was just sex; one of those things pretty much everybody does but nobody really discusses too often. Like pooping. He laughed when she told him just that.

Hope thought for sure she'd fall right asleep that night with how tired all the traveling and time difference was making her. The little bit of sleep she got was interrupted by another one of her nightmares. Her skin was coated in a sheen of sweat, her legs wobbling as she slid out of the creaky bed.

Creeping down the hall and into his room she stood at the foot of a tiny bed, trembling from the cold. Nightmares could sometimes upset Hope so much that she'd end up puking or hiding out the next day. It wasn't the worst one she's had, but being in an unfamiliar home left her with that anxious feeling she tried to avoid at all costs.

Hope knew he was hard to wake but it felt like too much work when all she needed was to sleep near him. He'd understand. The mattress creaked loudly beneath her as she crept on all fours. Her tee shirt she'd kept from her father's things hung loosely and her hair spilled forward, tickling across his bare chest as she tried to ease down alongside him.

"Declan..." she whispered near his ear. He stirred and mindlessly blinked with a mutter, his palm went to her cheek. For a few moments he stared up at her, eyes bloodshot with sleep. She couldn't help but lean into his touch as she explained softly, "I feel nervous, is it okay if I sleep next to you?"

He immediately nodded, brows knitted and fingers pressing into her hairline. She curled up on her side, facing him as he rubbed at his face with both hands, his elbow nearly knocking into her nose. He wasn't as toned as her father or uncle, the only other men she'd ever curled up near at night as a child, but he was built strong.

Declan rolled to his side, eyes roving her face like he was scanning it for signs of distress.

"You look upset," he whispered.

"Bad dreams."

"I get them myself at times. Close your eyes," he instructed. She obeyed and a smile tugged at her lips when his fingers brushed the hair from her brow, tucking strands repeatedly behind her ear. It was exactly how her mother used to soothe her to sleep. He must have seen her do it many times before.

"I love you, Declan," Hope admitted, not wanting to open her eyes to see his reaction. There weren't many people she loved and had learned early that you say it when you get the chance. People leave so quickly.

His fingers stilled, the pressure tickling the nape of her neck. She could smell the lemon and sage soap on his skin they had used after feeding the animals.

"And I you, kid. That means so much to me. Did you know..." his voice broke. Her eyes popped open. There were tears and he was so close that their noses almost touched.

"What?" she whispered, placing a hand on his that still hovered near her cheek.

"I was going to ask her to marry me. I had my grandmother's ring and was scared out of my mind that she'd say no and I'd lose both of ya."

Hope closed her eyes again, letting the prospect play out behind her lids. Her mom would smile every morning and they'd eat like queens every meal. She'd have a father that never left and who never forgot to ask how her day was.

"You would have been...a great father." Her voice shook with emotion. Her lips quivered against tears.

They didn't talk, just faced one another with legs tangled and noses nudged together. It was as if the realization trickled into their veins simultaneously; just as she felt the creeping feeling that this was too intimate, he blinked and moved back, retracting his touch. Her heart fell as the mattress dipped and bounced from his retreat. She tucked her hand beneath a cheek and watched him tug on a shirt and jeans.

Maybe her expression gave her away because he whispered, "there's no need to smoosh together in a bed made for a toddler. I have a better idea." She took his offered hand and let him guide her to her feet. Lightning lit up the rooms as she trailed behind his tip-toed steps, feeling a childlike excitement like they were doing something adventurous and forbidden.

They tugged on rain boots from the side door over their bare feet, his grandmother's pair fitting perfectly. Hope wondered how silly she looked in her over-sized nightshirt and bright green shoes.

Declan held a finger to his mouth and winked, whispering, "Brenna is a light sleeper and she needs all the beauty sleep she can get, trust me." Hope bit her lip and shook her head in amusement. The woman had the most sour expression during dinner, eyeing Hope like she was something vile. Declan explained later she was likely jealous of his brother's attention towards her, saying lightly, it's hard to be a wilting dandelion next to a budding tulip. Hope figured she must be pretty awful for Declan to bad mouth her, he never said an unkind word about anybody.

He opened the thick old door slowly, the brass handle's sharp clack echoing through the sleeping home. Its' hinges groaned like a dying cow and she clasped a palm over her smile as he fought with his own chuckle. The rain wasn't falling yet, though she could smell it in the wind as soon as they stepped out. The collie greeted them at the entrance to their barn, tail wagging and cold nose nudging Hope's dangling fingers.

An old pick up truck was parked inside; Declan grabbed a quilt from the back and motioned for her to follow, pointing to a lantern hanging from a hook. Hope grabbed it, surprised by the weight. He whispered an Irish saying as they lit it, explaining it keeps away the bad spirits that hide in the fog. Hope nodded, hiding a grin at his sincerity. If only he knew what really prowled in the night and between life and death.

The lantern squeaked from her lifted arm with every climbing step up the grassy dirt path. Hope set it on a rock once they reached the same spot he'd taken her earlier that evening, helping him spread the blanket. Settled next to him, backs flat and knees bent, they let the darkness of night swallow them up. The lantern glowed low, drawing the attention of fluttering moths as crickets chirped and thunder rumbled in the distance.

"This feels better," Hope admitted in a sleepy whisper.

She had almost drifted to sleep when his voice yanked her eyes towards his profile. There were tears dangling in the corner of his eye. It made her think of the time she caught one of her mother's with a fingertip and thrust it into her mouth; salty and thin. Her mother had looked at her like she'd never figure her out.

"I'm seeing someone now," he admitted hoarsely.

Hope knowingly replied, "the other chef at your restaurant." She thought of the condoms again and then of the way it felt to be so close in the bed.

He looked at her in surprise, nodding. She waited for him to say more, withholding her opinions and questions in favor of watching his tears fall in fat droplets. Hope fought the urge to see if his were as bitter as her mother's or as thick as her own.

"I realized just a few days before I heard from you that I don't love her. I want to. She's wonderful and I'd be lucky to have her..." he glanced at Hope earnestly, his head rolling on the blanket to look her in the eyes.

"But you still love mom."

"That's just it. Hope. Honestly, I don't think that I do. It's as if..."

Hope pushed up on her elbows, knitting her brows. "you can't love anybody?"

He nodded, his shoulders sagging as if in relief. She knew exactly what he meant. How many boys and men had she tried to love since losing her family? How many friends had she tried to care about as deeply as they did for her? How often did she tell her living family that she loved them too, yet felt nothing? It was harsher than the sadness of loss. It was somehow worse than where she started.

She murmured, "I keep searching for something to make me feel anything at all and I'm afraid that it's true what they say about grief. It never really leaves you, you just have to make room for it. What they don't tell you is what about all the empty spaces everything outside of the grief used to hold? Where did all that go and can it come back?"

Her heart thumped hopefully that finally...finally...somebody might understand.

His nods grew more eager and he too pushed up to peer at her. Hope flung her arms around his neck again, this time hugging him harder than when she first arrived. He was the first person to make her feel something close to what she had before. He was the only person.

"Not that I want you to feel the way I feel, but it is nice to know someone understands," Declan smoothed her hair with both hands and gently cupped her face to rest his forehead to hers, "and it's nice to feel something genuine for someone still. I had no idea how much I needed to see you."

She loved that about him -the sincerity. He had always been the kind of person who said what he felt when he felt it. He had never held back even once when she grew up with him in her life; a stark contrast to her father's role and behavior.

Hope's folder in school called her things like impulsive and withdrawn. She was flawed just like anyone else and sometimes she didn't act with her brain, she acted on instinct and need. And right now...everything told her to hold on and never let go or she'd end up a cold and distant shell of herself. She'd end up like every other broken Mikaelson fucking and feeding just to feel something small instead of nothing at all for decades until something new came along to fill her up and then leave her deflated.

Need and instinct win again. Her lips crash into Declan's, rumbling thunder masking the sound that escaped his throat. She expected him to tell her to stop and she'd probably spend the rest of her life wondering why he didn't. His lips are cold from the night air but his tongue tastes sweet. She's tugging at his lips with her teeth, fingers gripping his taut arms. It felt so good to be touched like this, she forgot to feel guilty.

"We need to stop," he managed to say against the caress of her tongue.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her fingers halting so close to his waistband. She could feel him on her thigh, she'd ended up in his lap. Her night shirt was in a crumpled pile with his own aside them; she hadn't even remembered getting this far.

He shook his head, pushing a kiss to her forehead. Against her skin he murmured, "I would never do this to her."

"I know." Hope wanted to comfort him, tell him that her mother was gone and wanted them to be happy...would want them to be together like this if it brought them comfort. But that might not be true at all, Hope didn't know. She would never know so many things. People leave quickly and they don't leave answers to questions never asked.

He scooted back, pain all over his face. Hope touched his shoulder tentatively, tears a stinging reminder that there was too much emotion wrapped up in all this. Having sex with Declan would just be a weird way to mourn a part of her mother and hardly worth the guilt that would come later.

"I don't want anything to change." Hope licked her swollen lips and continued, "it won't happen again, I promise."

Declan nodded but she could see the pain when his eyes settled on her bare chest. Her breasts hung flushed, nipples hardened. Hope bit back a wave of tears by squeezing her eyes shut and turning away. The dog barked outside in the distance and a gust of wind howled all around them, Hope shivered.

Then, the warmth of his palm settled on her back, his thumb making little circles on her spine. He asked her questions that made her think he was worried about her. She answered dishonestly, not wanting him to waste time trying to figure her out. It wasn't doable. Hope had lost her parents in so many different ways and now there was a hole that couldn't be filled. Every day she tried to fill it with something and sometimes with someone, but it never worked. That's all she knew and it was impossible to fix.

"You are such a beautiful and wonderful girl, Hope. You're going to make someone very happy one day and they'll be the luckiest lad in the world. I don't deserve ya, I don't belong with ya. If it weren't for Hay- your mother...well, for what it's worth I'd never turn you down. Hell, I'd never let ya go...but you don't want this sweetheart. It won't make you or I feel any better."

Declan had no idea what words like those did to her. He couldn't possibly know that instead of consoling her, he ignited that need that had been burning and building since she became a wolf and lost her family. There was a hunger inside of her and it wasn't easy to feed. What he didn't understand was that she did want him and not just to satiate what burned and swelled wetly between her thighs, but to have someone who never wanted to let her go -someone who made her feel not so alone in her pain and emptiness.

He helped her slip back into the shirt, a far away expression replacing the hunger and need she just witnessed. The walk back felt long and the silence stretched uncomfortably as she followed in shuffling steps.

They fell asleep at some point on opposite ends of a couch, his snores blending with the howling wind and the tick-tocking grandfather clock in the corner of the room. When she woke, he was just tugging on his jeans. She was disappointed to notice he didn't look her in the eye and he didn't smile.

"I feel just awful about last night, kid." His throat sounded raw with sleep and regret.

"Me too."

Their eyes met and she sat up slowly, her dad's old tee falling off one shoulder. Sunlight pierced through the parted curtains, burning warmly across her outstretch legs. She watched his eyes travel downwards when she brought her knees to her chin, feet blocking the view of her panties. Hugging her legs she rest her chin atop her bent knees.

She murmured, "I think I'm going to fly back tonight if there's a flight."

He didn't argue, just gave a short nod. He turned to leave the room but stopped in the doorway. Hope felt her heart thumping painfully and she wanted to beg him to forget anything had ever happened last night.

Declan spun on his heel and stalked towards her, yanking her up off the couch and pulling her into a bone crushing hug. Then he shuddered whispering apologies, his fingertips bruising her spine. Hope wasn't sure what to say or do so she just...let him. His grandmother passed down the foyer, pausing to look in on them.

She called soothingly, "come Deckie, let us go work on breakfast before the kids wake."

Hope didn't eat a bite and took a walk alone back to the heavenly spot down the path with her sketchpad and camera. She took several pictures, knowing she'd need all the angles to be able to paint it when she got back home to her art studio.

Declan was hugging his nephews goodbye when she finally returned, her heart only slightly less heavy. She thanked his grandmother and packed her things, keeping her head down even on the road back to his place. Her flight would leave later that night, leaving them awkwardly navigating the rest of the day together in his small living space.

Her mom had always taught her it was best to say what's on her mind rather than let things build and build. She would say, "if something hurts say so. After you talk about it, sometimes you find that it wasn't so bad after all or that your perspective was all wrong."

Hope plays with the cat while he wipes the same spot off the counter, his eyes completely unfocused. If she didn't fix this, he'd disappear for good and it was an unbearable thought. In another life, this man would have been her father. He loved her and she loved him and once again that stupid part of her had reached for something it shouldn't have. It's like she had to push things that much further.

"I want to talk about it," she finally stated, setting the cat from the table to the floor.

The dishrag paused and his eyes flicked up towards hers. With a slow nod, he trudged towards the table to slide into the seat across from her.

"I have all these...issues. Abandonment maybe. Trauma. Whatever," she shrugged hopelessly. It was hard to say out loud but he deserved the truth. "So I go too far with people like this insane instinctual feeling that drives me to keep people as close to me as possible. Men, I mean. I...this is not your fault and I want to be able to have what we had before. What can I do to make this right?"

His eyes softened and he immediately grabbed her hands across the table. They were hot and damp, Hope could feel his pulse in his fingertips.

"You will never lose me." His words caused her to sag in relief and nod in appreciation.

In the months that followed her trip to Ireland, they exchanged texts almost daily. She mailed him the painting of his spot near the farmhouse for Christmas and he thanked her thousands of times for it in the months after that.

A whole year had passed, and now she was celebrating nineteen. He surprised her one night; she'd dropped her grocery bags to the side walk and about fell to her knees at the sight of him sitting on her porch stairs.

They hugged like it had been decades rather than the twelve months since last seeing one another. He stayed for a week, and it was just as it had been. Cooking together, laughing over wine, and he even slung an arm around her shoulder while they watched way too many Netflix movies. It wasn't until his last night there, did they graze the subject of what had happened between them in Ireland.

Wine loosening their tongues and a week's worth of avoiding it only led them straight into the flames. They kissed hesitantly, trying out the feeling of being so close again. She felt it all the way in her toes, a delicious burning spreading from her gut to between her thighs. It was different than being kissed by someone else because with Declan, there was a layer of emotions and uncertain guilt. She'd never slept with someone she loved in ways that had nothing to do with sex or potential companionship.

Every move of his lips caused the feeling to grow and flutter, her hands crept up his chest to snake around his neck. Their hearts pounded like they were fumbling teenagers trying everything out for the first time. She moved away from him and stood shakily, staring under hooded eyes at the way he breathlessly reached for her from the couch. He grabbed her by the hips and tugged her forward to grip and stare up her belly as she pulled off her sundress and tossed it to the floor.

His breathing became louder...steadier...as she unhooked her bra and let it slip from her arms to their feet. Hope loved the way he looked at her then. Like he was grateful rather than consumed by lust. He didn't touch her breasts, but it felt like he did with the way his eyes explored her.

"They're too big," she said hesitantly. Her mother's were perfect...everything about her mother had been perfect. Hope felt she never even grazed how beautiful her mother had been.

He shook his head, two small jerks. Then he leaned forward, couch groaning, and pressed his parted lips to her navel. She scraped her nails across his scalp, holding him tenderly in place.

"You're way out of my league, ki-." He stopped suddenly, peering up with his large green eyes, chin resting against the thump of her belly. Hope had wondered when he'd stop calling her kid. Now seemed right. He asked softly, "are you sure you want to do this with me?"

She took his hand and eased it between her thighs. His face when his finger brushed

He was a gentle lover, she'd never been touched and handled with such care. Everything was soft and slow, deep and sweet. It was hard to explain to him why she bled like a virgin. How does one explain to a supernaturally clueless human that being a tri-brid came with many perks like fast healing wounds. She'd always technically be a virgin, no matter how many times she slept with a man.

"Did I hurt you?" He looked so upset.

With a hand cupping his chin, she smiled and shook her head. Placing a kiss on his plumped lips, she whispered against the scruff along his jaw, "you were perfect."

He laid on her chest, boyish pouty lips in a seemingly perpetual smile atop the mound of her breast. His middle finger absently ran circles around her nipple. His leg was tossed over her, he'd collapsed after they climaxed in whispery moaning cries and a few audible oh god's.

"I'm not lookin' forward to being alone with my thoughts later. Any words of wisdom for someone who's afraid of doing what feels right and good is hurting somebody they loved?"

"Love," Hope corrected him. Whether he believed in it or not, she knew her mother was somewhere close. Not always watching, but when Hope needed her the most. He closed his eyes tightly and when they sprung back open, he nodded in understanding.

Then, closing her eyes so she could think about his question, she thought of that moment on her bed when her mother forgave her for everything Hope hadn't even done yet. She thought of the way Uncle Elijah had made Hayley Marshall smile compared to the way Declan had. Her mom had been so happy with Declan, but she hadn't loved him in that rare sort of soul mate way. Hope had known that all along, her memory sharp and vividly replaying all the moments she would silently watch her mother and uncle. There was something deeper there and Hope was sure Declan's marriage proposal would have been the end. They probably would have never even heard from him again had it played out that way.

At least this way, Declan would never know that pain of what couldn't be, but instead -the pain of what could have been. What she was afraid of later, while alone with her thoughts, was the realization that even Declan could not fill this hole...this huge chunk of her that made her so hungry for relief of its existence. And if that was true, and she had stepped into this territory with the closest thing she had to a dad, then what?

The reality of it was too hard. It was what she ran from every waking moment. It was knowing nothing -NOTHING ...absolutely nothing would bring her parents back. It wouldn't give back what was taken and what was missed. This feeling was a part of her now and it was so goddamn loud. Doing things like having sex with older men who feel like father figures was unhealthy, obviously. But when therapy, herbs, magic, alcohol, pills...whatever vice out there that fails...then you go with what works. This works. Not forever. Not always. But for now.

"You okay?" Declan kissed her chin.

No.

"Yes, I was just thinking about what mom would say."

He propped on an elbow, thumbing her cheekbone, "what did you come up with?"

You need to try harder to get the help you need. Doing this to Declan isn't right or fair. If the only way is a way that undeservingly hurts someone else, then it's time to rework the problem and don't do it alone. A lone wolf always gets lost.

"She would want us to know that there's a reason we've been drawn to one another and it starts with a lot of pain. I think she would want us to help each other and that this probably isn't the way to do it. But, Declan..."

He exhaled shakily through his nostrils, eyes flicking rapidly between hers.

"Go on," he managed to say, looking sort of sad.

"I'm not ready to let go of this even though I know she wouldn't like it. I think I need your help figuring out what I need to do because..." And then she was crying. Now the guilt was coming, and way sooner than it usually did with others. She knew it was because she really did love Declan so much. So very much. But how does one explain to another that the part that wanted to sleep with them is a part that needed to be fixed?

"Oh sweet girl..." he pulled her closer, pressing his forehead to hers.

They fell asleep for hours, limbs tangled and skin stuck together with sweat. It was the best sleep Hope had ever gotten and when she woke, he was staring at her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

They made love again, this time it's like the shyness disappeared and the way they really were came out. He flipped her to her belly and she grasped fistfuls of sheets as he drove a deeper pace. She got close, it felt so good -too good, and then he pulled out suddenly.

Helping her roll to her back, he admitted softly, "I couldn't look at your birthmark."

"Okay," she nodded breathlessly in understanding. Then, eager to not lose what had been building, she wrapped her legs around his hips and guided him inside with a press and arch of the back. Her nails scraped down his spine as they climaxed, this time she was sure they could be heard from the street.

He left for his flight after a shower and a long hug goodbye. It was a week before she heard from him again. Though, he didn't call or text, he sent something. A letter. In her aunt's hand.

"Aunt Freya?" Hope raised her brows in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

She maneuvered past Hope, shedding her jacket and sitting at the dining table. Tapping the table with a loud pat of her palm, she commanded firmly, "sit." Hope obeyed and half expected her to respond with good dog.

Instead, Freya slid the letter across the table and stared expectantly. Hope knit her brows and plucked it up, running a finger under the seal. It was Declan's handwriting.

Dearest Hope,

I thought about all the things we've said and done since Hayley's passing. In a way, I don't regret a minute. But mostly, I regret not being there in the ways I should have been for you. I let my own pain get in the way of making the right decisions. I gave in but giving in means giving something up. In this case, I was giving up being a father to you.

Now, I can't be that for you anymore, I know that's what you were giving up too. What I can be is a friend and I'll have you know I take my friendships very seriously. Had I not been completely mesmerized by how impeccable and lovely you are, I would have understood sooner what you were trying to say about needing help. I understand now that you were asking for it in the only way you knew how, and that you realized it wasn't good enough for your mom. I agree, it's not good enough. Thank you for letting me feel forgiven and for allowing me the pleasure of knowing you in a way I won't be able to pursue again, but will always treasure.

The only way I know how to help you outside of the path we started in Ireland and ended in Virginia, is to find someone I think is closest to your mother. Your mother always spoke so highly and fondly of your Aunt Freya and I trust her to know what to do. I know it's hard to ask for help, and it's strange how it's nearly impossible to ask the people we know can actually do it and succeed. Let her help you find peace. If you stop looking for your father, imagine who you could find instead.

I love you, kid.

Declan

Hope folded the letter and stuffed it back into the envelope. When her eyes met Freya's, there was nothing but concern.

"Are you ready to talk about it?"

Hope nodded.

"I'm here as long as you need. I'm sorry I didn't make that more apparent...maybe if I was more accessible..."

Hope didn't let her finish, she just moved quickly to bury herself in her aunt's small arms. Maybe Declan was right. Maybe she just had to try everything else because finding peace had just been so easy she'd looked right past it.

"I miss them..."

"You aren't alone with this. And your mom would be so proud. She was no stranger to pain and mistakes."

Hope nodded vehemently, murmuring, "I know. Thank you for being here with me."

"Always and forever doesn't have to end just because they're gone. We're going crazy trying to get through to you. All of us. We're right here and not going anywhere."

Hope knew she was referring to not only herself and Keelin, but Kol, Davina, Marcel, Rebekah, and her teachers and peers that cared. It hadn't been enough before but it had to be now; they were right there fighting for her all along.

Lone wolves always get lost, but they sure did know how to find their way back.

A/N: If you enjoyed this unconventional pairing, you may enjoy my other stand alone installment of the Daddy Issues series titled "Milk Glass and Honey" featuring Hope/Alaric under the Legacies category. Thanks for stopping by! Reviews appreciated as always.