| Part 2 |
"Colette, my dove," Jurgen began in a thick German accent, standing behind his desk and throwing his arms out before clasping them together. "How are you, how are you?"
"Busy, Jurgen," she answered with a flare of attitude.
"I hope it is good business," he answered, looking expectantly.
"Productive only if my money is ready," she answered back, gripping her gone ever so slightly more.
"Now, now, we would not want to embarrass your guest, would we?" he said, picking up on the subtle motion. She only smirked back at him and, after a slight stare-down, the German put up his hands before him and grinning. "Still as feisty as ever, my dove." She rolled her eyes as he reached under his desk, Colette's heartbeat speeding until he rose back up with a metallic briefcase. "Your turn," he challenged, not yet revealing its contents.
She started to reach into her bag when Jackson's audible whisper entered Isaac's ears clear as if he were standing right next to him. "Lahey."
"Jackson," Isaac replied, equally as quiet, catching Jackson's gaze from across the room.
"Long way from Beacon Hills," he continued, his tone almost a question.
"A lot's happened," the taller man only said.
Jackson didn't say anything at first, leaving Isaac to wonder how much he knew about their former circle over the last several years. Isaac had had some difficulty keeping tabs on things, Argent filling him in when he became informed himself, and Melissa, bless her heart, called him every once in a while (although Scott didn't tell her much so that was limited as well). "What're you doing in Berlin? Derek kick you out?" Curiosity answered.
"Not quite," Isaac said, stopping for a moment, contemplating whether he should fill him in on a few things, or just keep it business. "I'm looking for my brother."
"I thought he was—"
"So did I."
"Supernatural?"
Isaac only nodded. "What're you doing here? Last I heard you were in London."
Jackson shrugged almost unnoticeably. "Pay's good," he admitted. "Jurgen prefers the protection of the supernatural and my pack…well it didn't work out with them."
"Never thought you woulda' fit in anyway," Isaac said with a smirk. Jackson couldn't help himself but pop that asshole-smirk as well, Isaac noting that it hadn't changed one bit.
"So, Mr. Lahey, is it?" Jurgen said, smiling up at the curly blonde. Isaac froze for a split second when his focus shifted back to the task at hand; he nodded and took a step forward, his body stiffening a little. "My dove has shown me the photo you received. I do not know this man, but I do see the resemblance. The city behind him, that is Bukarest in Rumänien. Colette, here, knows this. But the man with him, that is why you are here. That is Barış Kızılok, a werewolf I would like not encounter ever again. A gangly, nasty sort of man with a temper that gives him a taste for blood. And the other man, who they are speaking with, that is Pitti Dubnic. He is one of the oldest werewolves I know. A Romani alpha and my friend for many years."
"Where can I find these two men?" Isaac asked.
"Kızılok is a hired-fang—his allegiances change often. But Pitivo, you can find him on the outskirts of Bukarest, in the ghettos of sector five. Walk into the slums, walk amongst people, and his pack should find you easy enough. If you decide to see him, you must bring two things, though: the first, you must bring your barren soul. Pitivo is a man of many worlds and many lives…he will want to see your heart."
"And the other?" Isaac asked, unimpressed and unenthused to meet such a superstitious man.
"A bottle of scotch," Jurgen answered with a smile.
Colette smirked but Isaac remained unimpressed, but still task-oriented. "And knowing your friend, what kind of scotch would he enjoy the most?" But as soon as he asked the question, his eyes immediately fell upon a half-empty bottle of Johnny Walker Black on the display to the right and Isaac immediately had his answer. "Thank you for your help," Isaac said, turning to leave.
"One more thing, Herr Lahey," Jurgen said, forcing the younger man to turn only his head to face him. "I know of your history. I know of the Hales. Where you come from. Of your 'true alpha.'" Isaac wasn't sure how much the man was telling him he knew, but he decided against pressing it—favoring waiting and seeing. "The hunt you are beginning: it is nothing you have encountered in California. This is 'Old Europe,' jungen Wolf. Here, in the darkness, lies all the magic and monsters and horror you have only ever found in your fairy tales. Now, find your brother and return home to your alpha; I believe your guilt has kept you from him long enough punished you sufficiently, no?"
Isaac's face furrowed, stepping forward once towards Jurgen again to press the matter when Colette stepped towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder to shepherd him out of the office. He wouldn't budge at first, clearly bothered by the personal insight in part of the other man, but one cautioning motion from the other bodyguard—the other werewolf—behind the strange man. His eyes flashed blue and Colette took that as the sign to press Isaac further, using her second hand to pat the man's stomach before pressing against it. Isaac peered over at Jackson and his former school-, team-, and packmate's face cautioned against any further action. The questing wolf resigned and allowed Colette to guide him back out into the club. They made to leave, Colette a little more hurried, not even stopping to bid Michel farewell. But as they got to the club's entrance, a hand grasped onto Isaac's shoulder, pulling him around.
Isaac turned to meet his disturber with yellow eyes and fangs, claws at the ready before he realized it was Jackson. Immediately, his features reverted and the adopted Whittemore son only smirked at him, clearly unimpressed. "It's only me, Lahey," Jackson started before glancing at Colette. "Jurgen has a request."
"What is that?" Colette asked amusedly and skeptically.
"He wants me to go with you," he answered after looking back at Isaac.
"Go with us?" Isaac mused, his tone just as his hired help's. "Why—"
"There's an errand I need to run, that's all you need to know."
The pair eyed him carefully, Isaac holding his tongue as Jackson's heartbeat seemed to indicate that there was more to it than just the errand. "Fine," Isaac agreed, the other werewolf only barely noticeably relaxing, his naturally blue eyes contracting from their dilation. Colette tapped Isaac on the arm after looking Jackson over and led them from the hidden underground establishment.
"Have you been to Bucharest before?" Colette asked their new companion as they made their way back towards the S-Bahn.
"Once," Jackson answered. "With Jurgen. We had some business in Budapest and he decided visit this Pitivo character."
"You've never met him?" Isaac asked.
Jackson shook his head, his skin twisting awkwardly against the tight black collar of his shirt. "I stayed with the taxi."
"You are in for a treat, both of you," Colette added, grinning.
"Why? What's he like?" Isaac said.
"Old Pitivo is a story teller. Most gypsies are, but Pitivo is a master amongst them."
"Do you think he can help?"
"We will see. He is very cryptic man and his stories even more so. But knowing Pitivo, and his reach across Europe…Jurgen has steered us right."
…later that night on the next train, this time headed for Bucharest, Romania…
They'd been sitting in silence—a somewhat awkward silence—since Colette fell asleep in their compartment. Isaac sat on the same makeshift sofa as the mercenary, her head fallen back against the wall and the top of the seating, while Jackson sat across from them, both young men staring out the same window into the darkened sky. With as many years at it had been, it was no surprise to either of them, and even more so given their animus relationship when they first knew each other.
"Can I ask you something?" Jackson finally said, not tearing his eyes away from the mobile scenery in their sights.
"Shoot," Isaac said, doing the same.
"When you got upset at the end of the meeting, when Jurgen said some weird things to you…what did he mean?"
"You really haven't kept in touch with Beacon Hills, have you?" Isaac pointed, bringing Jackson's dimly lit face in his sights.
The dirty blonde looked at him guiltily before looking back out the window. "Not really. Didn't really feel the need to."
"Lydia?"
Isaac's senior-beta only shrugged. "After I moved, she wanted to let me go properly. We didn't know when we'd see each other again…if we would…so we never contacted each other. And Danny…that was probably my fault. The end of that summer after I moved, that was probably the last I heard from him. I didn't…yeah, I didn't respond to him. Forgot." His heart skipped and Isaac's face showed that he knew the boy across was lying. "Okay, I didn't want to, honestly. I wanted to let it all go. I even moved out of my parents' flat within a few months."
"You moved out or they bought you a place?" Isaac mused, smirking.
Jackson only shook his head and snorted. "Fine, Lahey," he said with a smirk, taking the jab. "So what's your story? Why was Jurgen being so cryptic?"
"I don't know all of it, to be fair. I left before Thanksgiving that same year. I…" But Isaac found himself unable to bring out the words. For so long he'd been working on burying it…forgetting it. That tale of his last few months in Beacon Hills…it was everything to him, and yet it was the most painful.
"What?" Jackson said, noting the obvious pain in the curly blonde across from him.
"It'…like I said before, a lot's happened. I…" Isaac took a deep breath and closed his eyes, willing his throat and eyes to keep it together just this once. "I'm not in Europe just because I'm looking for my brother. I moved to France so I could forget everything, mostly the night Allison died…"