Title: Scattered Thoughts

Author: WhimsicallyAwkward

Disclaimer: I do not own Heather, or Charles or anything. No copyright infringent is intended.

A/N: So this is Heather. And her part is going to come in installments. I'm thinking there is going to be two parts, but it could be three. Why? Because I sat down and wrote, and it just got longer, and longer.
I'm starting when Heather was young, and carrying up until after Anna. I think this is the best way to do her. She would have first met Charles as a child, but it would take her growing up to form her impressions.

***NOTE: Okay, I read the Alpha and Omega series without reading Mercy Thompson. I just recently started the Mercy Thopmson series, but I'm only on the second book. This puts me at a disadvantage with some of the characters. I have no idea if the character of Heather is detailed in Mercy Thompson. So please let me know if I have this all wrong. Ok? Thanks :)***


Her first memory of the Cornick's who run her town is when she's about five years old.

Her mom had been crying a lot recently, and suddenly her dad isn't around. Her mom sits her down to tell her that daddy isn't here anymore, that he's in a better place. Heather cries because she doesn't understand. She cries because she's scared.

Then she's in an itchy black dress, and she's sitting in church with her mom. Grandma's here, and her older brothers, and the entirety of the town. Heather sees her best friend Piper, but she stays close to her mom.

It's been an awful few days, and Heather just wants to be at home. Not here, with all of the hugs, and the sad smiles. Not with so many people crammed into one room.

She's been here a lot recently. This is the fourth time to be at church in this itchy dress, this week.

Her mom says it's because several people have been called home to Heaven.

Her brother says it's because of the Cornick's.

Cornick.

She's heard that name before. Everywhere she's heard it, from everyone. It's what their little town seems to revolve around. Even now, her little ears pick up snatches.

"Charles Cornick….yes…it had to be done, though."

"Couldn't Charles have given him another day, at least? Such a good man…"

"….Cornick…"

"….Bran….Samuel…Charles…"

She's curious, and she tugs on her mom's shirt sleeve.

"Mommy? Who're the Cornick's?

Her mom inhales, her eyes tearing again.

"Oh, sweetie. They're just a family around here. A pretty important one. You know the king's and the queens in fairytales? The ones that rule the lands?"

Heather nods. Of course she knows the kings and queens.

Her mom wraps her arm around Heather, pulling her close.

"Well, they're kind of like the king's of Aspen Creek. They're strong, and smart…," she trails, eyes watering, "and they're good, Heather. They are. They have to do tough things, and sometimes they don't seem so great, but they are. They can be a little scary, though."

Everyone around them is quiet, and Heather thinks they are listening to her mom as well.

Heather can hear the door open, and the silence that drops is almost deafening.

Heather's brothers glare behind them, before turning around and staring stonily ahead. But Heather turns in her seat, looking to see what is causing it all.

There's a man. He's walking smoothly, shaking a few hands. He gets closer, and her mother stands to see him.

He stops, kisses her hand. Her mother calls him Bran. Bran Cornick.

He whispers something in her mother's ear, then bends down to get on Heather's level. His eyes meet hers, pretty and hazel. For some reason she flinches, but she doesn't look away. She's a child, and a child sees the world differently than adults. She sees a man, who looks a little too sad for her liking, not someone dominant. Not someone whose eyes she can't meet.

He smiles at her softly when she meets his gaze, and then he kisses her hand too.

"I am very sorry for your dad, Heather. There isn't anything more I can do to help you and your family, but I am always here."

Then he straightened, and walked on down the aisle.

Heather stepped out into the aisle, looking after him. She stood there for a moment, then she heard her mother's intake of breath. Heard her brothers' call.

And she feels something close behind her, so she spins - her eyes coming level with yet another pair of black clad legs.

He's about three feet away from her, and she raises her eyes until her head cranes back.

It's a man. A very big man - more like her Uncle Tag than her dad. But he's different than she's ever seen. His hair is long, and black. His skin isn't white, but she doesn't think it's black either.

She doesn't know, but he's looking down at her - not smiling, but not angry. She's in his way, so Heather smiles sheepishly.

Her mom isn't coming towards her, but she's holding her arms out - eyes worried.

Heather doesn't go to her immediately. She continues to look up at the man, still in his way.

"'M sorry, mister."

Then, before she can back away, her brother reaches out and pulls her back.

The man doesn't go to walk away, but her looks above her - at Josh, whose arms are tight around her.

Josh pulls her back a few more steps, his breathing heavy.

Heather glances up at him, and sees that he's looking hard at the floor. When she turns around again, the man is walking away; following after the other man.

Everyone is still deathly silent when the last man passes, who winks at Heather before also going to the front.

Heather sees that they all sit in the same row.

Behind her, Josh curses under his breath. Their mom slaps his arm, before taking Heather away from him.

"What was that about?" Amelia mutters to Josh very quietly, "Stupidest thing I've seen."

"You weren't getting her!" Josh grumbles back, just as quietly. "You were just letting her stand right there in front of Charles freaking Cornick."

"And what were you afraid he was going to do, huh? Decide he was going to kill a five year old for getting in his way?"

Josh glared ahead, "Well, it's something he might do."

Amelia's eyes shot wide open, the redness emphasized. She reached around, gently shoving Heather into the arms of her youngest son, Brady.

Then she turned back to Josh, voice still low, and Heather had to crane to hear.

"Now you listen to me, Joshua. Charles did what he had to do, just like he always does. You've spent seventeen years in this town, and you know just what everything here entitles. Your father couldn't be saved, he just couldn't. He's much better off."

When Josh turned to snap back, he saw his mom's face covered in tear tracks, and he just nodded. Then he reached his arm around her neck, holding her.

Heather, still in Brady's lap, looked up at him.

"Who was that?" she whispered.

His arms flexed around her. "That was one of the Cornick's. Charles. And the other two were Bran, and Samuel."

Then he doesn't say anything, and her mother doesn't either.

And the people around them start talking again, so Heather stays quiet and confused in her seat.

Later, lots of people tell stories about her dad - her brothers included. Everyone cries, and sniffles, and Heather just stares at the back of three particular heads.


She has just turned nine years old. Scabby knees, and skinny limbs. Big, bright eyes that are always curious. She's a handful. Keeping her mother running around after her.

Josh has left now. He's 21, and he moved into an out of town apartment for his final year of college.

Heather feels that he couldn't wait to get out. He loved them, of course. But he'd always said he hated their town - and everything about it. Plus, he'd never been the same after their dad had died.

He'd never been able to hear the name Cornick without scowling, either.

Brady is seventeen. Big, and tall like their Uncle Tag.

He's never quite been the same either. He isn't as extreme as the oldest brother, but he follows Josh blindly. If Josh thinks the town and its functions are ridiculous, then they must be.

Now that Josh has gone, Brady can't wait to follow.

That leaves just Heather and her mom most of the time. And Uncle Tag, of course. He's been around almost constantly since the death of Heather's father. Something else that Heather's brothers found it in themselves to resent. He could never take the place of their father.

Sometimes, Heather would see Tag shake his head sadly at her mother.

"They're too bitter for their own good. Have a lot of growing up to do."

Heather misses them. Josh's noise in the house, the dinner that would be eaten if she didn't get there fast enough. Mostly though, she misses the them before her dad died.

When they weren't so angry. Weren't so grown up.

Josh, bowing before sweeping her into dance. Brady, reading all of her favorite fairytales to her. Playing with her, laughing with her. Letting her drag them into tea parties.

The last time they had a tea party was two weeks before her dad died.

Of course, she's too old for tea parties now. She likes climbing trees, and playing in the park. She likes going to town, and walking into every store to say hello.

Her brothers have always said they hated this town for all that it was, but she loves it.

Where every neighbor is a friend.

But she's old enough now to notice that there are a lot of weird things about Aspen Creek. A lot of them.

They all start with the Cornick's.

Bran Cornick is the dad of Charles and Samuel Cornick. She's picked up on that, though no one has told her outright; they would all glance away, and ignore her if she asked. So she learned to listen.

Bran is their dad. But he looks the same age. Parents are supposed to be older. Her mom is older. Her dad was older.

Sometimes when she sees him, he looks younger than his very serious-faced son.

So that was weird-factor number one about her town.

Number two was that Uncle Tag could hear her from other rooms.

"Mom? What state is it that Josh goes to college in?"

Amelia glanced over her shoulder. Heather was sitting on the table, looking expectantly at her. Amelia opened her mouth, but she was interrupted by Tag.

Tag emerged from behind a door, his big hands cradling his bowl of soup. He didn't even look over at Heather as he answered.

"Washington. Over on the West Coast. He wanted to get some distance between him and this town."

Amelia made a sound in the back of her throat, and Tag tensed, looking at Heather. Heather - who didn't miss a beat - asked, "How'd you hear me? That TV is up pretty loud."

Tag paused a moment before smiling goofily. "Good ears, I guess, girl." Then he ruffled her hair with one huge hand, before bounding back to the other room.

Yeah, very good ears.

It wasn't the only time Tag or another person around town had done that. Tag chuckling when her brother whispered a joke in her ear.

Mr. Brooks, owner of the local restaurant, smiling knowingly from thirty feet away when they compliment his food.

And there was the fact that some of them didn't seem to age. Heather knew about aging. Her brothers aged, bulking up and closing down. Ready to run out of town when they were too tall for Heather to see eye to eye without craning her neck.

Heather aged. She got taller, her hands got bigger. She had to get new shoes, bigger shirts.

Her mother aged. Amelia didn't get taller; she didn't mark her height off on the door jam every year.

But she aged.

"Damn."

Amelia said it so softly that Heather knew she hadn't meant for Heather to hear it, but hear it she did.

Heather walked the four feet to her mother, who was standing in front of the mirror.

"What's wrong, mommy?"

Amelia's eyes darted to her daughter, "Oh, nothing sweetie. Just life."

She reached up to her hair, and made a quick motion with her hand. Then she crouched by Heather.

"You know how the old men and women in town have gray hair."

Heather nodded.

"Well, that happens to us all when we age. Our hair, no matter what color it is when we're young, goes gray."

She was holding a strand of her hair, and instead of the auburn hair she had, it was gray.

She got gray hair, she formed wrinkles. She aged.

Heather's uncle hadn't changed a bit. Not one. No gray hair, no wrinkles. He looked the exact same as he had in a picture fifteen years before. His sister got gray hair, and he stayed the same. Always.

Heather noticed this, but when she ever tried to ask she was ushered to be quiet. And always told the same line.

"Aspen Creek is a unique place, Heather. Very unique. Some people here are a little bit different. When you're older, you'll understand."

Always, always, when she was older. That's what her mother said, what her uncle said, what her brothers said. What everyone says.

Until the day she goes home from school, having listened to Jimmy from sixth grade tell her and a few others what his dad told him.

Her mom is sitting on the couch, her expression that vacant one that she has had sometimes since Heather's dad had died.

Heather drops her school bags and sits beside her mother, not saying anything as Amelia hugs her and asks how her day went.

"Mom, I know you told me not to talk about Uncle Tag and the people like him. Told me not to talk about how they're different from us, but a boy at school was talking about them. He said that the stories you tell me are true. He said that our town was like a kingdom in a fairytale. But that instead of dragons defending our castle its werewolves. He told me that the Cornick's were werewolves, and that other people in town are. He said Uncle Tag was a werewolf."

Heather is barely stopping to breathe. She doesn't want her mother to break in and tell her she's being silly before she can support it.

"He said that they can hear really, really good. Like Uncle Tag can. And he says that they are really strong too. He said his dad picked up their table with one hand. And Uncle Tag is strong too. He crushed the doorknob, and you told me that was normal, but Jimmy says that it isn't. That he would have to have super strength.
He said that they don't age. Which is why Uncle Tag always looks the same. You said that he is older than you, but he doesn't look it. So don't tell me that I don't know what I'm talking about, because I do. It all makes sense."

Then she stops. She breathes because she's laid it all out there, and now she wants to hear what her mom has to say.

Amelia doesn't say anything for a minute. She stares at Heather so intently that Heather starts to feel foolish, and the she drops her head into her hands. Her shoulder shake.

Heather's eyes widen, because this is so far from what she expected. Her mother denying it, telling her she's too young and stupid. Her mother being angry, but not sad. Amelia is crying and Heather tears up to, because she doesn't know what's wrong. Doesn't know how to fix it. Then Amelia pulls Heather to her, and they cry together.

Later, they sit at the table. Brady isn't saying much, just sitting solidly next to his sister. Showing her more attention than he has in a long time. Heather is pulled into Amelia's side, and they watch silently as Tag fixes all of them cocoa.

When Tag sits too, he and Amelia talk softly to Heather.

Tell her the truth of their town, and the Cornick's. Tell her the truth of the world. That monsters are real. Vampires, werewolves. Creatures out of the fairytales that Heather loves so much are real too. Fairies, trolls.

It's all so overwhelming, and she's too young to comprehend it all, so she clings to her older brother - because he has always protected her. Amelia calls Jimmy's dad, tells him about Jimmy running his mouth to children to young to handle it, but she can't take back that Heather knows now. Heather and five other kids know the truth now.

When Amelia puts Heather to bed, after they've talked for hours and Tag has gone home, Heather opens up her book of fairytales.

These stories were always an escape, but now they ring to close to the truth. The scary creatures were real, but the princesses weren't.

Heather will still love her fairytales, but never with the innocence she did before.

She wakes up later, after midnight. There is noise outside, so she cracks open her door and looks down the hall.

Her mom is in the kitchen with Brady and Josh. Josh who Heather hasn't seen in months, and she almost runs to him, but then she hears her mother's sobs.

"My baby, my baby. She's too young, Josh."

Josh is holding Amelia, shaking his head. "I know, mom. It'll be okay, though. She's tough, she'll handle it way better than Brady or I did."

"Oh, she'll be okay. I know that. But she's too young. Neither of you knew until you were thirteen. I didn't want to have your childhood's revolving around the existence of monsters. So now I'm crying. Crying for the loss of innocence."

Heather crept her door shut then, and crawled silently back into bed.

The next morning she walked out, and ran to Josh when she saw him. She let him wrap her up, and she tucked her face into his shoulder. He said he'd come back because he missed her, but she knew her mom called him back. With her face still hidden on his shoulder, she willed everything to be normal again.

To go back four years. Back when her dad was alive, and her brothers loved her, and her mom laughed. Back before the Cornick's and the tales of monsters that went with them.

She never told them she heard them that night. Not even thirty years later.


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A/N: Hope you like! Please review. Heather part 2 is already half written, so it shouldn't take too long for me to throw it out here. Within the next week or so.