Contrary to popular belief, Remi Peltier didn't often wake up in a bad mood. The bad mood usually
began when he looked into a mirror and swore he could see his twin brother Quinn staring - laughing - at
him. Such a thing had caused a broken mirror a time or two.
But today was one of those other days - the days he awoke boiling with a rage that he couldn't
explain. The need to start a fight or, at the very least, punch something sat just beneath the skin, causing
a feeling like an itch.
It was an itch he was determined not to scratch as just within the past week, he'd started - and
ended - enough fights that he'd need a third hand to count them all. So he intentionally ignored the mirror
on his way to the shower and on his way out of the bathroom, toweling his body dry before throwing his
long blond hair up into a sort of bun that sat low at the back of his head.
He pulled on a pair of tattered black jeans - were they in the basket because someone had done
his laundry, or were they dirty? A mystery - and his Sanctuary uniform shirt before heading through the
house and to the bar.
The Peltier house, a menagerie for an assortment of were-hunters who needed a home, was
adjoined to the family bar via a door leading to the back of the bar - an area off limits to customers. Not
only was that where their stock was kept, but the chance of a cub or two wiggling into there was high,
and wiping a human mind was a pain.
Remi made his way to the kitchen, cutting off some bratty remark from the head chef - he really
wasn't in the mood. Near immediately the atmosphere of the room changed. Everyone fell silent, going
about their jobs while keeping the talking to a minimum.
Not that they were scared of Remi - well, maybe a little - they just couldn't afford to piss him off
further and have him ditch work. Not only was he a dishwasher, but he was a fast cook when needed and
kept ticket times to within ten minutes - which near earned him a record, as he didn't pre-make any of the
dishes.
First thing first. After tying on his apron, Remi went to check on the soups and gumbo that
would have just been started and left to simmer so they'd be ready in time for the dinner rush. Next he
checked on the meats that had been slow cooked through the night and were ready to be served. Not his
job, but no one seemed to want to point that out to him.
Once he knew everything was where it should be, he put on his hair net - Dev was once socked
in the jaw for laughing at said hair net - and grabbed the tickets that were waiting to be filled. The dishes
could wait a few while he helped the kitchen catch up with the orders.
Hours seemed to pass by in a flash as he cooked and cleaned, rolling his eyes whenever his
brothers or sister came to bother him. By the end of his first shift, he'd managed to work out most of the
anger from his body.
Now he just felt empty, which was somehow worse than the boiling rage. At least, went he was
angry, he knew he could still feel something, that he still existed. But this emptiness was cold and
unforgiving, sucking the life from him little by little.
His world had gone dark years before, when his own brother had accidentally claimed the woman
who'd had Remi's heart. She was his light, and she was taken, leaving him in this unfamiliar cold and
colorless world.
No, stop thinking about her. He begged himself as tears pricked at his eyes. But the floodgates
had opened. All he could think about was the night he'd lost her, when she'd mistaken Quinn for Remi and
crawled into his brother's lap.
Now they had children and slept in the same bed. Don't get him wrong - he loved his nieces and
nephews. It was their father he couldn't stand to be around.
He couldn't remember having spoken more than a handful of words to his own twin in years. Each
time he thought he could move passed it and begin to rebuild their bond, he'd see the two of them together
and go through the stages of grief all over again.
And Remi saw what happened to his older brother when he'd lost his twin. He didn't want to have
any regrets should anything happen to one of the other quadruplets. And that, above all, was what left him
so...empty.
Safiya Sachdeva sat waiting for her meeting with the dean of Tulane, tears flowing down her cheeks.
Not even a week before finding herself in New Orleans had she gotten the call that her parents and
twin brother had perished in an accident with a runaway semi. The driver of the semi had tried to steer clear,
but few things can halt a truck that big once it has it's course.
Why was she crying in the first place? She'd left her family when she was sixteen, fully able to
support herself through online work and the two books she'd published as a teen. Her parents had once tried
to steal her money before belittling her for trying to save that money for her future.
Harsh words turned into abuse shortly after, as with her growing success - any normal parent would
have been proud - her parents' fuses got shorter and shorter until her mother had made Safiya fear for her life.
Them, she could care less about, if she was being brutally honest.
But it was her brother, Dylan, that was hurting her. She hadn't spoken to him in years - not only
because she'd cut him off when she'd left her parents, but because the one time he spoke to her afterward, he'd
asked for money.
In hindsight, he hadn't asked for much and had begged her to help him just that once. He'd sounded
so desperate that, if she'd been in a better place herself, she would have helped him.
Her brother was brilliant, well on his way to becoming a historian. Now that she was here and saw what
he'd achieved, it shattered her heart to think of what potential he could have had. Now there was just a hole where
her brother should have been - no sibling could be replaced, but the bond twins shared was something else
entirely.
"You okay?" A male voice pulled her up from drowning in her sadness, Safiya looking up to see who was
speaking to her.
He was too beautiful to be a teacher, she thought. With blond hair and a build made for the gods, Safiya
couldn't help but stare a moment before she was able to respond. Blue eyes set into a chiseled face that told her of
historic origins and great genetics, a hard muscled body hidden away by a button down shirt that could have possibly
been just a size too small for the man.
"I'm fine." Her voice cracked, making it very clear she was not fine. A shaky hand raised to brush back her
dark brown hair from her face before offering a fake smile.
"What's wrong?" He asked in a soft, soothing voice, glancing from Safiya to the dean's office. "Fail a final?"
"I'm not a student." Safiya responded just as a woman opened the door to the office.
"Miss Sachdeva, the dean is ready for you." The woman gave her a warm smile before her eyes travelled
over to see the other person waiting outside the office. "Professor Alexander. What can I do for you?"
Safiya moved to press by the woman, not interested in what the two were about to talk about - until she
heard the man's name. She turned around, interrupting their conversation. "Excuse me," She moved around the
woman yet again. "Professor Alexander?"
The man gave her a dazzling smile. "That would be me. But please, only students call me professor." He
held out a hand to her. "Julian."
Safiya shook his hand. "My brother was in your class. Ready to become some sort of assistant as I understand?"
Julian's face fell at her words, dropping her hand as he spoke. "You're Dylan's sister? I'm so sorry for what
I - I'm sorry for your loss. He never said he had a sister."
"We weren't close." Was the simplest answer she could think to give.
"Ah." He nodded solemnly in understanding. "Are you here to collect his things?"
"That and stop payment of his tuiton." She wasn't about to pay anything for classes no one was attending.
"I've got some things of his in my office if you want them." Julian offered.
Safiya nodded. "Sure. I'll...uhm...find my way after I talk to the dean. Thanks."
Julian nodded, Safiya turning to go into the office and speak with the dean so she could get out of this school.
All this place was doing was giving her heartache, and she'd had enough in her lifetime.
She'd been through divorce, from a relationship that was rocky in the first place as her ex-wife had never liked
the fact Safiya wasn't in contact with her parents. And now, she'd lost her family, and had no way to contact her extended
family on either side. She was left to deal with this aftermath.
Alone.
After what seemed like an hour of just the dean apologizing for her loss, he directed her to the payment office,
where she could submit a claim and have her brother's tuition payments cancelled. The claim office told her she would receive
an email when it was approved.
With that weight off her chest, Safiya asked for directions to Julian's office. After a wrong turn and getting lost,
she was about to simply collapsed against the wall and cry. All she wanted to do was scream and cry, her body aching for
her to release the emotions she was bottling up. But luckily for her, she spotted a student.
"Excuse me!" She called, jogging to catch him. He turned and smiled, though he looked a little startled someone
was calling out to him. "Can you tell me where Professor Alexander's office is?"
"Down the hall, second right and first left. It'll be the fifth door on the right." He answered before adding, "I'm
heading that way myself if you want me to show you."
"Please." She offered a thankful smile before offering her hand. "Safiya...Collins."
Recognition of her maiden last name flickered across his face. "Dylan's sister. I'm sorry." He offered his
condolences and Safiya wanted to throw up. "I'm Alex. He was a friend of mine." He shook her hand, letting go before he
began to walk.
Safiya followed, quiet for a moment before she had to ask, "How did you know Dylan?"
Alex scratched his head. "We had some of the same classes. Professor Alexander is a mutual friend, so we hung
out a lot together when I went to visit him."
Safiya nodded. "Seems like everyone liked him."
"Well, most people that take Professor Alexander's class do. Dylan liked to debate him. He never won, but he tried.
He was friends with a lot of the history nerds around here." Alex pushed through some slow walkers. "He came to my family's
bar after school and played pool a few times a week. He was good too."
Safiya's heart grew heavier and heavier with each word. She hadn't known him at all. She'd never even tried and
now it was too late.
"He ran into some trouble betting on pool a few years ago too. Didn't have enough money to pay the money he'd
betted or something. My brother loaned him some and he'd been busing tables ever since." Alex continued, pausing only when
he noticed Safiya was no longer at his side.
She'd stopped in the middle of the hallway, hand pressed to her mouth to stifle a sob. So that's what he'd needed
the money for. Instead she'd spent it on her ex-wife to try and win her back before their eventual divorce. When he'd called her
out of the blue, that seed of resentment had still been embedded so deep in her heart that just hearing that he wanted her money
had caused her to hang up the phone. She'd been an idiot, and now she was paying for it.
"I'm so stupid." She choked out, Alex frowning. "He asked me for money. That had to be why - and I just...I hung
up on him. I told him he was just like our parents, only wanting my money when...when he needed help. I turned my back when
he reached out to me." She didn't know how to make her tears or words stop. "God, I'm a monster."
"Don't say that." Alex's voice was gentle, his hands pulling hers away from her face. "I didn't know him well enough
to tell you what he thought of his family, but he never spoke ill of anyone. I'm sure he didn't blame you."
"I hope not." She took a few deep breaths, blinking until her eyes stopped watering.
Alex nodded. "The office is close. Shall we?" He gestured the direction they'd been heading.
Safiya only nodded back, not trusting her voice. Alex released her hands and began their walk again, remaining
silent until they reached Julian's office. Alex rapped on the door, waiting for Julian to tell them to enter before pushing the
door open.
"Alex! Always nice to see you. Safiya, it's nice to see you again." Julian greeted them, pushing away from his
desk to stand up.
Safiya was so thankful he didn't ask her about her wet cheeks or inquire about her smudged make up. He simply
moved to a smaller desk in the corner, where a portfolio book and a file sat, along with a photo of Dylan with their parents. He
gathered everything and brought it to Safiya, who was already holding her arms out.
"Thank you, Julian." Safiya smiled, hugging her brother's things to her chest.
"Of course. If you need anything else, feel free to stop by again." He offered, and it was the silent support instead
of vocal apologies that Safiya appreciated.
"Thanks. I'll...uh...let you get back to work." She said before turning to head for the door, leaving Alex with Julian.
A few steps from the door she stopped, fingers gripping her brother's things tight enough they were turning white.
She didn't want to be alone in her hotel room, the thought alone making her shake. Instead, she backtracked and stood by the door,
preparing to wait as long as it took for Julian and Alex to finish talking.
Only five minutes later, Alex walked out, eyebrows shooting up in surprise to see her standing there. He moved to the
side to let her into the office, but she shook her head.
"You said your family owned a bar?" She asked.
Alex nodded. "Yeah. Want directions?"
Safiya nodded, offering her phone's memo app when he asked for something to write with. He tapped away at the
keyboard, jotting down the bar's address before giving it back. They waved to each other, Alex heading to class and Safiya on her
way to Sanctuary.
