A/N: Slight nod to Grey's Anatomy in this chapter (not a crossover). I couldn't help it. :)
Contrary to popular belief, I didn't love Clayton Danvers. The fact that he went off to college at the same time I did was pure coincidence. We went to two different colleges, in two different states, on the opposite sides of the US. I'd gone to UCSF in California, he'd gone to some Ivey league school in the north. The fact that we used each other as a convenient excuse NOT to date anyone else was just a fact of life.
Fact: Sorry, I can't date you. I'm in this.. .thing… with this guy named Clay back home.
Fact: Sorry, I can't date you. I'm in this… thing… with this girl name Lotte back home.
It was also a fact that we only spoke to each other twice a year. I'd call in the summer; he'd call in the winter. And I always said the same thing. "I'm okay, Clay. It's okay. I'll always be okay."
"I'll make sure, darling," His southern accent drawing the word into DAW-lin more times than not.
"Whatever, Clay. Just take care of you, too."
What can I say? It worked for us.
I'd attended his graduation ceremony for his doctorate, hiding in the crowd and leaving a gift without saying anything. He'd done the same for me. When I'd sent the check for exactly one thousand three hundred dollars to him via the mail, Jeremy Danvers was the one that returned the check. With a lovely letter stating that Clay was in Africa doing post-doctorate anthropology work. But that he'd received instructions from Clay to return the check, that there was some sort of deal in place where I had to return the money in person.
In Bear Valley.
Yeah, like that was going to happen.
There were other bits of platitudes in the hand-written letter, Jeremy's concise yet perfect script the closest thing to a hug I'd had in years. Words like how proud he and Clay were of my achievements in medicine. How they were sad we couldn't have spoken at Clay's graduation. How he'd heard that my twin had passed the New York State Bar exam, and that Aunt Karen had finally been promoted to Sheriff of Bear Valley.
Did I mention the letter was inside a carefully rolled section of canvas containing one of Jeremy's works? An abstract painting, of course, but I knew what it was. Two children hiding in the darkness, a bright light of hope and friendship insulating them from the cold. It was my graduation present; inspired by Clay and created by Jeremy. To this day, I never told Charlene about it. Maybe that makes me a bad sister? Probably.
The fact that Jeremy Danvers had noticed me in the background of that massive graduation ceremony for Clay's class was both comfort and creepy all at once. More comfort than creepy, but then again anything from "home" held a creepy vibe for me most days. My new home was at Seattle Grace teaching hospital in Washington. My new family was the group of interns that had made it to residency with me.
As Elsa had said in the only Disney movie I've ever enjoyed, I'd "let it go and slammed the door" on my former life. Except for my twice a year call from Clay, which was occasionally a call from Jeremy when Clay was in the strange, untamed parts of the world. And the conversation was always the same. I was okay. He was okay. I wanted to mail him a check. He would reject it.
Further proof that nothing in my life was normal.
These were the thoughts that danced behind my eyes as my fingertips tripped across the chain-link fence separating the Morgan property line from that of the Danvers. The thing practically glowed in the moonlight. Newly replaced, I'd noticed, and I wondered if that had anything to do with the wolf attacks that Aunt Karen had mentioned. That was probably the excuse that our parents had given. No one ever talked about the event that lead to its erection, and it was only years later when I was in my internship that I'd found out why. Or rather, Char had.
Apparently there was more to the fence agreement than a verbal acceptance. There was a life-estate tied to it. For as long as the Danvers held the property on one side and the Morgans held the property on the other, there would be a fence in between. A clear demarcation—the only one of its kind in Bear Valley—that had to be maintained. Money was set into a joint account from both sides, used to fix or replace the fence when needed.
It had been nearly twenty years since Charlene and I had run into those wolves. Now it seemed the wolves had returned and had killed.
And there I was, about to be stupid again. For some reason, I needed to see that pond again. I needed to see where Char's life should have ended—where mine should have ended—and maybe find out if there was any way to escape the blood that would follow my sister's wedding.
There was a part of me that expected all sorts of alarms to go off when I climbed that fence, leaping down to the other side. Into the Forbidden Forest of my childhood. Nothing but the sound of dead leaves crunching beneath my feet, and the thrumming of my own heartbeat kicked into overdrive. I started to run. This was such a bad idea, worse than any other idea I'd had before.
Worse than agreeing to come to Bear Valley.
I ran until my lungs were burning, until my breath misted the chill autumn air. I had no idea where I was heading, trusting memory and whatever it was inside me that let those visions happen, to guide my feet. The pond came into view and I slowed, crouching down with hands on my knees as I drew in ragged breath after breath. Stars, but it felt good. It felt so good. There were literally no places in Seattle where a girl could do this, could just cut loose and run and run and run.
I made a mental note to look into purchasing a massive tract of land when I returned home. If I mortgaged my condo, I might have enough.
It was surprising and yet not that the pond in question was smooth, undisturbed. As if time had not touched it in two decades. That bothered me. Shouldn't there be leaves floating on its surface? Shouldn't there be, I don't know, some animal or something to ruffle the waters? Flat glasslike liquid greeted my gaze. And it was then that I noticed the hush, the unnatural quiet that permeated the area. So silent, so… empty. Like a pocket of time held in pause.
To go with the town that time forgot.
I knelt down by the pond, feeling that familiar tingling in my fingertips. My hand stretched out, passing within inches of the surface. And I saw… saw the wedding again reflected in that not-right surface. Myself in the pink dress, the autumn leaves like butterflies in the lazy autumn breeze. Teresa walked forward in a dress that put mine to shame for its fluffiness. Layers upon layers of tulle in her ball gown, the pure white bodice dotted with enough crystal to make Elizabeth Taylor jealous.
The blood started at the altar, at my very feet. A single dot of crimson welling on the steps of the gazebo, the one in the center of the town, and the clock tower struck out the time. Midnight. Somehow midnight though the sun was just starting to set. The sound was wrong, distorted and mocking. And the pinprick of red turned into a thin rivulet, heading rapidly towards Teresa's dress. I tried to step on it, to squash it down. I didn't want anything to ruin her day. Her beautiful day.
The step shattered beneath my feet, and a geyser of red shot up into the sky, a fountain of scarlet pouring over us all. I screamed. Kept screaming… and no one reacted. Not a single guest. Not the preacher. Not the groom, not even the bride—
I threw myself backward, away from the vision, from the nightmare that had haunted me all these years. Scrambling backward until I put some distance between myself and the pond.
"Miss Morgan, you should not be here."
As if I had conjured him from memory, Jeremy Danvers stood on that ridge above my head. Well, standing wasn't the right word. He knelt, gazing down at me. Something dark turning the blue of his eyes into polished sapphires. Unreadable and … dangerous, with the moonlight throwing his shadow down across myself and the pond, causing me to shiver with more than just the cold. Maybe it was my imagination, or maybe it was memories of this place, but to me that shadow looked vaguely wolf-like.
He tipped his head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly in concern. "Are you alright?"
No. I wasn't. Not by a long shot. "Yes," I said, the word taking two attempts to come out in some form that was understandable. "And yes, you're right. I shouldn't be here. I was just—"
Trespassing? Having a vision? Scaring the life out of myself? Praying you don't call my Aunt? God, how embarrassing would that be, to be brought back home in the back of my Aunt's squad car like I was that rebellious teen all over again.
He stood, picking his way carefully but with a quick familiarity, down the all-too familiar ridge. "You shouldn't be here," he said again, extending a hand.
What else could I do? I took it, letting him help me to my feet. "I… I know. I'm sorry. It was dumb and offensive and strangely nostalgic. And none of that is an excuse," I finished quickly. "I understand if you want to press charges."
His hand was warm, nearly burning against mine, as his eyes flicked to the pond. "It's dangerous to be here alone. But I understand the nostalgia. This is where we found your sister, isn't it."
I tried not to wince at the word "found." It sounded too much like she really had drowned in that pond, that somewhere in that eerie water a nine year old girl floated endlessly. Waiting for rescue.
"Yes," I replied, eyes locked onto that water. "I don't know why I needed to see it. I… was hoping to find some peace there."
"Did you find it?"
This time I couldn't hide the flinch. "No, I think I found more pain."
"Chasing the shadows of the past often lead down that road," he said, one hand gently touching the small of my back, guiding me away from the water. "While I understand the sentiment, I much prefer if you call ahead before you decide to visit."
A herd of hellhounds couldn't drag my ass back to that pond after what I'd seen. "Trust me," I murmured, trying a smile of my own. "I never want to see that water again. The past has been laid to rest."
He smiled softly in return, a faint upturning of his lips. And when I shivered again, the hand on my back pulled me in closer to him. Not in a suggestive way, but more a gentlemanly offer to shield me from the cold as much as he could. I was struck by the heat that came from him, much like it had from Clay. Almost too much to be normal.
Almost too much to resist.
I was turning towards him before I knew it, one hand pressed lightly to his chest. His eyes turned to mine, questioningly. And I didn't even get the warning tingles this time before the vision climbed up my spine and sledgehammered me right between the eyes. My knees buckled, prompting him grab me with both arms, to close the distance between our bodies.
The world tilted, blurred out of focus, and fell backwards in on itself. Until I was that girl again and the wolf stood over me. I gazed into its too-intelligent eyes, saw it tipping its head from side to side. My hand fell upon its paw like it did in reality, and the spark that ignited between us was had the wolf recoiling and me screaming. And for the slightest of moments, I saw more than I had before. I saw something that stole my breath and made my sanity explode in a chorus of IT-CAN'T-BE's!
I swore I saw the wolf start to change, to become… a man.
A man with Jeremy Danvers' eyes.