Title: Live Hard
Summary: He may not even be considered much of a person anymore but the moon does things that bring out what he used to be, there's a reason the doctor has him on a sedative and there's one unlucky nurse's name on the bottom of the incident report following the bite.
Rating: M
Warnings: Language, violence, sexual innuendo
Spoilers: There are some but they are few and far between for the most part, this story works around the main storyline while incorporating it at key points.
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf
A/N: The finale was good for this story and bad for me. Bad for me because it meant I had to go back to the drawing board on how the story rolls along and eventually ends, but it actually made me think up some things I never would have come up with if season one didn't end the way it did, so it made my brain go into overtime a little bit but in the end everything isn't thrown through too big a loop, thank god. This chapter takes place between episodes nine and ten.
Day 47:
It's instantaneous, the way her thoughts connect with the bridge between them being the recalled memory of his voice explaining the upgraded healing process to her.
Her joints are swollen with blood and they protest movement with a hellish onslaught of discomfort and nerve searing pain at the simplest and least strenuous motions she tries to will her muscle into, there are hot knives in her bones, burning and searing away at the marrow, the growth plates, the length of her skeletal system.
The brilliant flaring purple and spotted blue of hideous bruising spans her hips, lower back and groin and the metal holding her pelvis together is grinding with every step and sway.
Blood has stained through the grey of her sweatpants and she cries out when her skin pops open like a long fingernail through the skin of a fruit and metal pushes out in the tiniest of measurable increments.
She chokes on the cushion she worries with her teeth.
Her thoughts swim around, muddled and melting from the agony of the slow process, she wants to pass out, she wants to cut herself in half, destroy her spinal cord and stop the spasms making her legs twitch like someone is tap dancing on her nerve fibers with cleats on.
Bliss comes when she finally finds a way to wedge her hips into the corner of the couch and the agony dulls to a heavy lashing throb, she sleeps for three hours and is woken when the spasms start again and her legs twitch, she screams out between teeth clenched so tight her ear drums shake and a rumble starts from them that reverberates through her skull.
In her mind she makes mental list of all the pain killers she can remember and then one of antispasmodics.
She needed something that would numb her or knock her out or make her lower body feel like it had evaporated. Her cell phone was within reach and she thumbed through the electronic phone book until she found the number she wanted.
"Hello?"
The accent was familiar and made her smile, "Doctor Yhun?"
"Yes."
"This is Lucette."
There was the inhale of recognition over the line.
"Oh, Lucette. Hello, how have you been, how's your father?"
"He doing very well, thank you. I called to ask you a question actually," she evened her tone and wiped at her bleary eyes.
"Alright, what's your question?"
"Well I was wondering what the chances of my pins shifting were."
The set-up was done, now all there was left was a few convincing sounds of pain which she didn't even have to fake and a well placed lie.
"Slight, unless there's been force applied, but most likely you would know if one slipped." He answered sounding concerned. Good, she thought.
"Would I be having spasms?"
"Are you having spasms right now?" His question was colored with something closer to quiet worry than plain concernedness.
"Yes."
"Did something happen?"
"I missed the last step of my porch, I didn't have much pain at first but it feels like it's getting worse."
"When did this happen?"
"About three days ago."
"Are you still in state or are you working?"
There it was, she grinned into a couch cushion, she was golden and the explanation was swallowed without any disbelief or question.
"I'm working, in California."
"Where?"
"Beacon Hills."
"Hold on a second," the sound of a chair rolling and keyboarding replaced words for a moment. "Okay are you working in the hospital?"
"The nursing home that's attached."
"Alright I'm going to phone in an order of Soma for you. I'll make sure they give you an order for an x-ray. Can you drive right now?"
"No."
"Can you have someone pick it up for you?"
"I'll give my unit's charge nurse a call and ask her to get it to me."
"That should be fine, get me an employee I.D. number and I'll phone it in, it should be ready in the next few hours."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, I want you under that machine as soon as possible and I want the x-ray sent over if something looks off to you, okay?"
"Okay," she replied meekly.
"Everything else alright, any pelvic pain besides?"
"No, just the usual. The bleeding is the same as always."
"Good. I hope you feel better, call me if you have any escalating pain."
"I will, thanks again. I'll get the x-ray done pronto and give you a ring."
"Good."
"Bye, doc."
"Bye bye, now."
She ended the call and made another to the nursing home.
"Beacon Hills long term care facility how may I help you?" The receptionist greeted her robotically.
"Hello this is Lucette; I'm a nurse for the day shift is Trish available?"
"Hold for a moment."
"Alright."
The waiting music played for a few lines of song before the line started ringing again. "Hello?"
"Hey Trish."
"Hey what's up?"
"I need a favor."
"What?"
"I need you to pick up a prescription for me at the pharmacy in a few hours, I can't drive right now. My doctor is phoning the order in for me."
"What prescription."
"It's for muscle spasms."
"From what?"
"I broke some bones and had to be in traction awhile ago, and I just fell down my front steps and shifted something."
"It is not your month at all is it?" The older nurse commented.
"Bad karma catching up I guess."
"Okay, you need my info?"
"Yeah," she said ready to get down to business. "Badge number and name but I can send you my doctor's number if you want."
"No, it's alright. Got a pen?"
"Yeah." She reached over for one off the coffee table and uncapped it with her teeth to write on her hand.
"Okay, eight, five, five, one, eight, four, five, three, two. Got it?"
"Yup. There should also be an x-ray order to pick up."
"Okay, I get off at six today. I'll drive by your house and drop it off. You going to be home?"
"Trust me I'm not going anywhere."
"Lotta pain?"
"Bearable but not if it gets worse, my doc just wants me to take it easy."
"If you need time off gimme a call. But I should let you know that an agency rep was here earlier and was talking to the director."
"My agency?" The notion was strange.
"Uh-huh."
"For what?"
"What do you think?"
"Shit, Trish. You know what that means?" She did and the idea made her strangle a sound of frustration deep in her throat.
"That you're going to have a lot of paperwork to fill out."
"Bad karma, I'm cursed."
"You must have made someone angry."
"I must have been evil in a past life."
"Ha. You? Evil? Naw."
"Goodbye, Trish."
"See you later."
Lucette tossed her phone onto the table after sending off a message with the needed information to her doctor and tried to find a new spot to burrow in that didn't make her want to rip out her own spine.
She wondered if she ever would have heard him come in if her hearing hadn't evolved into something so superhuman that she could concentrate on a deer milling about in the park grounds and hear every chewing sound it made as if she had her face right up next to its mouth, which was exactly what she had resorted to doing to distract herself from the idea that her pelvis was ripping itself apart.
Her dog heard him after she did and trotted to the base of the stairs, she couldn't see the animal but could visualize how it looked when it growled deep in its chest at the man coming out of a room on the second floor.
"Brigs, rally."
It took him longer than it normally did to click over the wood floor to where she lay on the couch.
"Scratch," she commanded pointing a finger at the bedroom door. He trotted off.
There was silence, though she knew the man at the top of the stairs was still there. Waiting or listening for some reason she wasn't privy to.
"Is this a test? I know you're standing up there, I can hear you breathing and I can hear your pulse, want me to tap out the rhythm so you know I'm not lying?"
She smiled wryly to herself and rolled her eyes at the ceiling.
"You're not lying," he stated walking forward and pausing a few steps down the staircase.
Lucette couldn't see him but the fact that he wasn't doing much of anything besides show up was irritating.
"What are you doing, studying the wood grain?" Even to her it sounded snooty and bratty.
"What happened?"
He still hadn't moved and it was making her edgier with every syllable they spoke to each other without actually looking at each other.
"Nothing happened," she grimaced when she tried to sit up and crane her neck to see up the staircase from the other end of the couch she was pushing herself towards.
"I can smell blood, and your heartbeat and breathing are too fast," she heard his soles slap down the stairs as she slid her way to the other end of the couch with her eyes dampening from the strain on her lower body as she dragged it heavily.
"That tends to happen when you're in severe pain; it's called a sympathetic response," she hissed up the stairs when she could finally make out his ankles and calves.
"You're in pain?"
He shot down the stairs at a pace fast enough that it hurt when she snapped her neck around to watch him come into the living room.
"…"
Derek Hale was an imposing sight with his height and stiff leather jacket and tightly clenched jaw standing there in the middle of her living room staring at her like she'd done something incredibly bad.
"What happened?"
Her muscles tensed and she pressed her spine into the back of the couch hard in a effort to keep him out of her space as he came striding towards her and leaned down all angry eyes and grinding teeth.
"Nothing," she started before a hand reached down and yanked on the elastic of her sweatpants. "Hey!" She yelled and slapped as he wrestled them down to mid thigh and just stared at the horrifying purple and black underneath, it was horribly embarrassing to have a man she didn't really know yank down her pants and stare at her with only her underwear keeping some of her dignity intact.
She couldn't smother the choking gurgle of pain that bubbled up from her when a finger pressed hard at her hip.
He snapped his gaze up to her face and the hard expression didn't so much as soften as it melted back to disinterest, he stepped back and she rolled her pants back up with a glare.
"What happened?"
"No. Thing." She annunciated closing her eyes and tilting back her head to clear the sharpness of her thoughts the pain had caused.
"Something happened."
His shoes were dirty and old; the rubber soles were curling away at the toes she noticed not feeling any desire to look at his face.
"This happened," she waved a hand over her lower body and legs watching him take a seat in a chair at the other end of the couch.
"What is this?" He waved as he sat back, not relaxing but settling into the leather of the chair. "Did you fall off a building?"
Pursing her lips and biting her cheek in leashed fury at the quip she took a breath through her nose and tried to calm down before she started to cry from a mix of pain and aggravation, it would not do to start crying.
"Yeah that's kind of a hobby of mine, falling off buildings. No, of course not!" Her volume was soft but every word was hard and mean.
He gripped the leather arms with his fingers and crossed an ankle over his knee, "You have internal bleeding."
The statement grated on her nerves.
"Duh. I know. I'm still a nurse, remember."
The response seemed funny to him, "What did you do?"
"Nothing." She let her head fall back onto the arm of the couch and clenched her eyes shut tightly and dug her nails into her palms, a lashing of hot pain washed through her thighs and knees. "I guess I'm just healing, again."
"Well how did you get to the point where you needed to have to heal?"
"It's old. It's been like this for awhile, I thought it was just because I was still sore from running or working too hard."
"Oh," the surprised sound made her open her eyes and look at him. "An old injury." He nodded to himself.
"Yeah," she blinked confused that his mood was suddenly so different, that he was all of a sudden so relaxed.
"…"
He didn't explain anything. There was a heavy pulse in her hips that made her think of concert speakers with heavy bass.
"Can you fill up my bathtub with cold water?"
"…"
For a moment he seemed to consider the statement instead of actually intending to do something about it. Lucette watched a tendon in his neck jerk when he turned his head to look at the bathroom door and then back to her.
When he got up and did as she asked she realized she'd been watching his carotid artery jump with each heartbeat for some amount of time. It made her feel weird to be able to see things like that now.
"Thanks."
The water rushing out was loud and he shut the door on it, muffling the sound when he came back to the chair, "Mhmm."
"Do you enjoy talking without words?"
He didn't answer, though she didn't think she would answer either if someone asked a question with the tone she just used.
"How long are you going to be here, in my house?"
"Awhile."
"How long is 'awhile?' Don't say 'awhile,'" she warned.
He sighed and rolled his head back before pulling it up again and staring at the window behind her.
"For an undecided length of time."
"Specific," she deadpanned.
"Does it matter?"
"Kind of. Can you stay or do you have to run off in ten minutes to have a group meeting about werewolf things with the rest of the pack, or whatever, traveling circus act, clique, posse, whatever?"
There was a tick in his jaw that happened whenever he clenched his teeth and she noticed it happened the more condescendingly she spoke to him.
"No. There's nothing that needs my attention tonight."
"So you can stay." She simplified.
"Why would I?"
There was a challenge is the way he spoke, as if she had to have a good enough reason for his presence to be so graced upon her.
"Because I can't walk right now," she snapped waspishly at him.
"You can't?" He seemed surprised.
"No."
"…"
"I'm bleeding into my joints."
"Oh."
She didn't like that he stared at her with something in his gaze that made her think of the way people looked at dead animals on the side of the road.
Pity. Acceptance of the unfair fate bestowed upon small animals.
"Is the tub full yet?"
He got up and turned off the water.
"Can you stand?"
"Not on my own."
He took off his jacket and laid it on the chair, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt he came over to the couch. He lifted her up from under her arms and carried her like a baby to the bathroom, it was a surreal experience.
"Wait, don't just put me in," she squeaked when he looked down into the tub and then at her legs to figure out how to get her it.
"Then why did you have me fill it?" He asked after setting her down on the tub ledge. She winced at the pressure it put on her hips.
"I mean, grab my pants," she stopped to quell the sudden look of "guy" panic in his expression. "Just the pants."
He pulled the pants over her ankles and she lifted her hips so he could just yank them off from his crouch at her feet, "Thanks."
"Uh-huh. How did you break your pelvis? Car accident?"
He lifted her again and looked over her shoulder to dangle her feet up and over the ledge, she dug her nails into his shoulders and inhaled air from around his neck, sweat and hair gel was the whiff she got off him unintentionally.
Her toes touched the bottom and she held on to his shoulders and arms as she slid down into the water, slamming a hand onto the wall and the edge of the tub when she realized that if she kept sliding down she'd have his groin in her face.
It wasn't exactly something she found necessary, with a wave from her he stepped back and she settled her hips below the water and let out a small sound of displeasure for the temperature.
"When I was nine I fell out of a tree and shattered it."
She put her weight on her knees and popped her hips back and her chest over the tub edge while he sat on the closed toilet and stared out into the living room.
"And they had to take out your…," he gestured to his pelvis looking uncomfortable with the idea of surgeons taking out her reproductive organs.
"One ovary and most of my uterus, I still have the other and my cervix is intact," a look of disbelief crossed over his features. "What?"
"You bleed."
"Yes, I am. Internally at the moment. Thanks for clarifying the already simple statement that I understood the first time."
"You bleed as in menstruate."
"No I don't."
She didn't.
"No? You were, at the nursing home that night. You can't have a period without a uterus."
"You're right you can't have one without a uterus hence why I don't have one."
She wondered why he seemed so pissed off, like he was arguing with a child.
"You just contradicted yourself," he informed her running out of patience.
"I'm not arguing with you, alright? It's not a period, not really. Sort of since my ovary still releases hormones in a cycle, the way every woman's ovaries do."
"…"
"When the hormones are released they prime an egg for ovulation and those hormones increase vascularity and soften the tissues that are around like the uterus or the fallopian tubes and the ovaries, etcetera."
"Okay, so?" He widened his eyes and shook his head like what she was saying was completely unrelated to the topic at hand.
"Since I was so young when it happened my scar tissue is vascularized and blood permeates out. Like if you give someone a hickey over an artery and blood breaks through the surface of the skin because you suck too hard. So I bleed but it's not a real period in the sense that a uterine lining is being shed. There's no excess tissue be passed, just blood."
"Hmmm," he looked down at her staring at him with an expression of exasperation, "What?" he asked.
"Nothing I just explained that whole thing and all you say is 'hmmm,' it's annoying." She pursed her lips and sighed, putting her head on her crossed arms and looking at the floor.
"That's not exactly my problem."
She rolled her eyes. "Does me talking bother you?"
"It could start to."
She waved her head back and forth on her arms in a way that she hoped conveyed the sentiment that she found him extremely childish.
"Well if we just sit here and don't say anything I'm going to be thinking about how much this fucking hurts, so I'm just going to talk. You don't have to answer me; I'm not really talking to you, just at you."
And in fact she realized she was talking at the floor more than at him.
"…"
"I'd talk to my dog but he's been acting skittish."
"…"
She wondered if he just realized she was intentionally saying that talking to him was like talking to her dog, but less fun.
"I was lucky, ya know? Some people have to be on dialysis for the rest of their lives because they ruin their kidneys…, or they have to piss in a bag because they damage their bladder."
"…"
"I thought it really was just because I went running and then had to work that night with the emergency thing because it usually only hurts if I do too much and it takes a lot to get to that point, if it rains it hurts or if I'm tired and have to work, things like that."
"Like arthritis."
He talks, she thought with a mental huff.
"Yeah I guess I'm just an old lady."
"…"
And then he's as conversating as a cabbage, she corrected her previous thought.
"But there's no nerve damage and I managed to not fuck up my growth plate."
"…"
"I could have ended up with baby legs," she raised her head to make a hand gesture denoting the idea of having tiny short legs and a normal sized torso. "Or not being able to have sensation in places where it's kind of important to have sensation."
"…you don't have to mime that, I get what you mean," he waved off with uneasiness in his expression.
"Sorry, yeah. So they took out the wiring after two years and then added some more pins and another plate when I finished growing. The last surgery they had to reposition the way some hardware was sitting on top of this joint because I had started limping," she pointed to her left side.
"How many pins do you have?"
"Fourteen and then the two plates."
"How many have come out?"
"Three." She banged her head on the tub edge in frustration.
"You're bleeding internally."
"I know, again."
He had only told her twice already, she swore to throw a shampoo bottle at him if he said it again.
"That's why it's going so slow."
"Because otherwise the healing process would kill me."
"Yes."
She raised her eyes to look at his face. He was staring ahead of himself and then out of the open doorway, she didn't think she'd ever met someone so socially inept before.
"You're hormones might make certain things I told you a little bit different."
Her stomach bottom out in dread. "Like the thing about growing organs back?"
"No. Definitely no."
She sighed in relief, she didn't really want to wake up the next morning with another ovary and a uterus, it would have put another ding in her life plan more than the supernatural creature thing already had, and she really did not want to have to suddenly worry about having up and running baby making bits.
"So then the heat thing?"
"Yes."
"I won't get it?"
"No. You'll get it. Probably," he shrugged. "The possibility is the same as before."
Not a quantitative problem then she thought, but a qualitative one, "I'll get it worse."
"Maybe."
She worked out why in her head.
"Because my testosterone level's comparatively high."
"Yes."
When they didn't speak for awhile she began itching to fill up the silence with something other than the sound of water moving and their breathing.
"Did you know that men have ten times the amount of testosterone that women do, but that testosterone affects woman more profoundly? That's why sex experts recommend exercise as a way to jump start libido after menopause."
"No."
"Did you also know that close bonding and a paternal role lowers a man's testosterone?"
"No."
"Did you know that I am in severe physical pain?"
"I had no idea."
"Well I am in severe physical pain."
"What am I supposed to do about that?"
"You couldn't just yank the pins out for me could you?"
"No."
"If there anything you can do?"
"Like what?"
"Make shadow puppets, or do a little dance, or go out and raid a liquor store."
His expression seemed practically paternal in its unspoken displeasure. "Getting drunk will only slow the whole process down. So does sitting in ice water."
"I won't care, I'll be drunk. In fact there's whiskey in the kitchen, fetch."
"Get it yourself."
"Ha ha. You're so funny. My knees hurt."
They did, the tub floor was hard and cold and her legs were cramping up.
"Then sit down."
"I can't, I have pins in my ischial spines. Those are the bones you sit on."
When he got up she realized she had won the argument.
"Here."
He placed the bottle of booze on the floor within reach of her.
"Thanks."
"How bad is it?" He asked after she had a few swigs and felt the warm heat drift down into her stomach and through her limbs.
She tried to think up a gruesome comparison, it didn't take long.
"Imagine that you have a hematoma in each testicle, and that this hematoma has caused them both to swell to the size of a large orange and then imagine that someone has decided to kick you in your giant hematoma orange balls."
"That's elaborate."
"It's what happens to men who break their pelvis a lot of the time."
She heard him sniff the air and then swivel his head to look over her at the water. Instantly she regretted that she was wearing white cotton panties.
"One's about to come out."
"Uh-huh."
She groaned when she felt it.
"Where is it?"
She pointed at her right hip and he reached into the water and dug it out with a fast but no less excruciating yank, "Ahhhh."
"Ten more to go." He held up the metal fixture and dropped it into the tub, his teeth were very white to her and his smile would have been a winning one if she hadn't wanted to knock it off with a hammer.
"Go rip a garbage bag and lay it down on the living room floor."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to get blood on my floor, it's time to get out of the tub. Put towels down on top of it, the garbage bags are under the sink."
He did as she asked and came back looking at her, examining the situation.
"Do you need help?"
She snorted inelegantly and he came over and put his hands under her arms and started to lift her out.
"Don't touch my legs, at all."
She would have added a cursory warning about staring at her see through underwear but it seemed obvious enough and she'd rather ignore the fact since he hadn't already brought it up.
Her blood rushed to her head when he tipped her over his shoulder and walked out of the room.
"Can you stand?"
His breath was hot against her goosebumped thigh; she felt his muscles jerk under her stomach fast when he realized he had turned his head to talk and that he realized he was speaking to her ass.
It made her have to choke down a laugh.
"On my toes, leaning forward, with support, for like a second."
When he put her down and she steadied herself she caught the embarrassed pursing of his mouth and the shift of his eyes.
"How are you going to lay?"
"Stomach. Pillow?"
He leaned back to reach for one off the couch, her toes slid against the wood floor with the swaying movement, he dropped it and pushed it with his foot to where she wanted it.
She laid down with her stomach on the pillow and her hips raised. He laid a towel over her and she offered begrudging thanks, trying very hard to not think about what parts of her he'd seen.
"Worse?" He seemed only mildly concerned but it was alright, she didn't care.
"Got a buzz now, so no. Whiskey, remote, no talking."
He sat in the chair again and she turned on a made for TV movie about highschool and teenagers getting knocked-up. It was halfway over but there was nothing else on.
It finished and she turned to a show about home renovation, after the thirty minute show she felt the stabbing of a pin in her groin, she dropped the remote in favor of swigging back whiskey like a grizzled arctic crab fisherman man might have done on his only week off from the treacherous seas.
She bit into the meat of her arm and ground the skin between her teeth.
"Where's this one coming out?"
With a sucking pop she let her arm go and gave a glance to the red circle and teeth crenulations left behind, "How do you know when they're coming out?"
"The blood smells fresher."
"Makes sense. Just leave it; it's not in the best spot."
"Alright."
She banged her toes up and down on the floor and whined against her arm, crying and wincing as the pin pinched every nerve around it on its way out.
There was one moment when she thought to just ignore the embarrassment and let him pull it out but she never relented to the urge, she still had her pride and she kept it until the worst was through and a Disney movie on a kids channel had her singing along with the musical scenes for the following two hours.
"Someone's in your driveway."
Halfway through her off-key sing along she realized that someone had just shifted into park; she breathed her thanks into the floor and smiled.
"Yeah, she's dropping off something for me. Go get my robe; it's on the-…"
"Bathroom door."
He was already up and getting it. He helped her up and she yanked the robe on and wiped away the blood on her legs with a rag he dropped on the floor next to her.
"Okay, I can lean on the door frame while she talks, I'll just power through it."
"…"
"Don't give me that look, I'm not a child. Try not to let her see you, you are still a fugitive right?"
"…"
"Okay, that's a yes. Help me."
She made it to the door as Trish was climbing up her front steps; the woman grinned and closed the space to give Lucette a half-hug and a peck on the cheek.
"Hey," Lucette put on her best smile and gratefully accepted the pharmacy bag from the older nurse.
"Who is that?"
Lucette paled and turned to watched Derek stride across the living room.
"Um, hey babe? Go make coffee will ya," she shouted and gave him a look. "My boyfriend," she added filling the empty space of the doorway with her body and her arms stretching up in a luxurious manner that she hoped looked naturally to block the other woman's view.
"Boyfriend?"
The other woman's eyebrows shot up to her hairline and Lucette wondered if the idea was so unbelievable.
"When I told him about what happened with Jennifer and everything he jumped in the car and drove down here, I told him not to but like he listens to me."
Trish gave her a sympathetic nod and a sly grin.
"Does his top half match the bottom?"
"Huh?"
"He was bending over."
"Oh, yeah. That ass…drew me in with it."
And after a moment of thought she realized it was actually kind of true.
"Well damn. I'd spank that. You're blushing, bet you have, can't blame you."
"Trish," she warned.
"Oh don't give me that tone. Introduce me."
"Ummm, not the best were uh-…"
"Did I interrupt you two, oh my god I am sooo sorry."
She didn't sound sorry.
"No, you didn't…well kind of, but not what you think."
Lucette tried to explain but the other woman just crossed her arms and looked incredulous, "Uh-huh. You're blushing again."
"He was giving me a massage, Trish. I'm in severe pain here, I can't even think about sex right now."
"Massage, huh? Sounds pretty sexual to me. In fact now it makes sense why you're having 'spasms.'"
Sighing she shrugged and deadpanned, "We humped so hard he broke my pelvis, happy now."
"You'd be more convincing if your face wasn't so red. What's his name?"
"Ehh…," the sounds of something breaking, a dog bark, and a muttered expletive from the kitchen behind her gave her a moment to try and grab a name. Her mind was blank.
"Sounds like your dog doesn't like h-…"
"Dee Jay." She spat out wishing instantly that she could take it back.
"Dee Jay?"
"Initials," she explained. "He hates it when I call him Donald."
"Donald?"
"What?" She faked an unbelieving expression.
"Nothing I was just expecting his name to be more…"
"Sexy?"
"Yeah."
"What's sexier than a man named Donald?"
"Something with rollable R's."
"I can't roll my R's."
"Well then I guess it's a good thing his name is Donald and not Ricardo or Richter."
"Yeah, fantastic really. Can I get back to my massage now?" Her legs were shaking from the strain and her knuckles were turning white on the door frame.
"Lucky girl."
"He's got magic fingers," she wiggled her own.
"I bet he does."
"I hope I'm making you uncomfortable enough to leave, Trish."
"You'll have to try harder than that; I've been married for seven years hun I don't know how to blush anymore."
"Fine I've been a bad girl and I'm late for my spanking."
"That'll do it. See ya later."
"Bye Trish," she called before shutting and locking the door.
"Magic fingers? Really? What are you sixteen?"
She looked over her shoulder and found him leaning on the banister at the bottom of the stairs. She let herself slide to the floor to relieve some of the muscle strain.
"It was all I could think of on the spot, okay?"
"'I'm late for my spanking,' very creative, really." He mocked, viciously amused with the whole thing. She didn't find it very funny at all.
"Shut up, Dee Jay. Or your girlfriend will punch you in the fucking mouth."
"'We humped so hard he broke my pelvis.'"
She wondered if her voice sounded as shrill as the impersonation.
"It's entirely possible, for your information. Get this off me," she started tugging at the robe.
"…"
"It's my favorite I don't want to get it bloody."
He jerked it off and she sneered up at him when he threw it onto the stairs and helped her back into the living room.
"Anything else?"
"Get me aspirin out of the bathroom cabinet and a glass of water and a spoon."
"What does that do?" He pointed at the pharmacy bag.
"It's called Soma. It's an antispasmodic so it should speed things up."
"How?"
"Muscle spasms happen so bones stay in place, preventing further damage. If there are no spasms then the pins have an easier time coming out."
"Is it controlled?"
"You mean like morphine?"
"Yes, like morphine." He seemed irritated with her asking.
"Jeez. No it's not a controlled substance."
"You don't need a prescription?"
"Of course you do."
"How'd you get one?"
"I called my doctor."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him my pelvis was magically healing because that's what happens when you become a werewolf. I'm not an idiot, I told him I fell and something must have shifted."
"Alright."
She wondered if he thought she was dumb. The notion offended her.
"Oh, and I may piss myself."
"What?"
The horror on his face made her grin.
"Well it will basically paralyze my legs, so worst case I won't be able to feel them at all, which would actually be great but if I can't feel anything then it could happen."
"I am not cleaning anything if you piss on it."
"I don't think it would happen since I don't actually have to pee right now but I thought I'd warn you."
"Thanks."
He didn't sound thankful.
"Yeah, I'll probably seem a little out of it. That's normal."
"How long does it last?"
"A few hours. It takes effect pretty fast."
It did and it was wonderful. She felt absolutely wonderful as she slurred over more Disney musical numbers and every so often it seemed that her antics would cause him to act as if he wanted to rip his own ears off, she felt a perverse sense of glee at the idea.
Day 48:
There were only four particularly finicky pins left and one plate. It hurt, but not as badly as before. She limped into her kitchen and made coffee after she woke up early in the morning to find her houseguest was still where she'd seen him last.
When he saw her awake he made a somewhat grating remark that he thought she would never pass out and he'd have to listening to her drunk screeching all night.
He told her after being asked that the worst song rendition was one about making a man out of someone, she hadn't been able to place the reference to any song until he told her it was the one with the Huns and the lizard dragon in China.
When she supplied the title he just shrugged and she sighed, tired and sore, wondering where she left her pants. She found them in the bathroom and scowled at the bloodstains.
"Want coffee?" She called from the kitchen, waiting for a response while tapping her nails on the counter.
"Do you have to yell?"
He stood in the doorway and rubbed at his face. She wondered if he'd gotten any sleep. Waving at the coffee maker after pouring her own she just stood and let herself wake up fully.
"So…," she started casually thinking for a question to ask.
He looked at her with heavy eyes and impatience.
"So, Mr. Hale, what's the deal with Uncle Pete?"
"What about him?"
"Why would he kill me if he knew I was alive?"
She sipped her coffee.
"He might kill you," he paused and tilted his head as if weighing the likelihood of the idea, "more likely he'd ruin your life to try and assimilate you into the pack."
"So he wouldn't take no for an answer."
"No."
"Are you part of his pack?"
"Yes."
"Two people aren't really a pack if you ask me. That's like a super duo."
"It's not just me."
"There's someone besides me?" She hadn't thought there was anyone besides her.
"Yes."
"You two make a habit out of just going around biting people?" She snipped after another sip.
"I don't," he stared at her.
"Good for you," she looked down at her feet. "Who's the other person?"
"…"
She understood what the silence meant. "Ahh, better if I don't know then?"
"Yes, much better," he confirmed.
"So I'm the only girl…werewolf?"
"Not in the whole world, in this town yes."
"Okay. So what happens now? What's my whole role in the world of werewolves? Do I have to join a pack or file a claim, what?"
"As long as no one knows you're one of us then you won't have to worry about a pack trying to get you to assimilate in."
"What's the deal with you and your uncle? He's the alpha and you're the beta and then what?"
"He's got his goals and I have mine."
"Which are?" She pressed the issue.
"Not something you have to worry about."
"He bit me."
"And?"
The statement shocked her a bit, "That's not enough?"
"No, it's not."
She nodded in acceptance that she wasn't going to get an answer from the pity perspective. "Are you a psycho killer?"
"I've never killed anyone."
"Who did?"
"…"
Silence left a gap for her to fill. He looked thoughtful and sad, or whatever his stoic version of thoughtful and sad was, "So you're uncle is the crazy one. Got it."
"He's not crazy."
She waved her head at his volume. "Oh?"
"He has his reasons," he explained, softer, normal.
"Like what? Territory thing, compulsory kill switch, revenge?"
"Something like that."
"So it's a personal thing."
"Yes."
"And it has nothing to do with me."
"No."
"So it has no bearing on my life."
"Not really."
"Okay."
She didn't really care, it wasn't her family and Derek Hale wasn't her friend. Sitting up on her counter she mused on her own thoughts and drank her coffee, looking over at her kitchen companion.
"What?" He met her eyes.
Lucette shrugged and looked at her blurry distorted reflection in the metal of the refrigerator door, "I'm just wondering why you're here."
"He bit you, I'm here."
"Because I could go crazy and kill people?" She mumbled into her mug.
"That and you can't learn this on your own, and if you don't learn how to live like this it causes problems for the rest of us."
"Alright so you're going to train me or something."
"Until you don't need it anymore."
There was something else, she wanted to know. There was always something else. "And what else?"
"What else what?" He leaned into the doorframe and crossed his arms and ankles, head tilted and shirt stretched over his chest. She might have called him alluring if he was a picture and not a person.
"That's not your only reason," she stated it and finished her drink, plunking the cup down into the sink.
"…," he didn't answer and it made her peevish. She pointed a finger at him and put ice in her glare.
"Don't do that, giving me a look like I'm imagining things doesn't make me think I am. What's the other reason? You don't want your uncle to know I'm alive, okay fine," she waved a hand. "That's great but sorry if this is rude but you don't seem to be a selfish knight of a guy, Mr. Hale."
"Why are you calling me Mr. Hale?"
He looked genuinely confused as to why she was calling him Mr. Hale, she wasn't going to call him Derek, and she didn't want him calling her Lucette. She'd rather be thought of as 'the nurse my uncle bit.'
"Oh I'm sorry, did you like Dee Jay better?"
"…"
She paused when her joke failed to ruffle his feathers. "Yeah, so what's your deal?"
"The fact that they don't know about you makes you valuable."
Lucette considered the statement, "…valuable how? As in surprise attack valuable?"
"Maybe, maybe not. Think of this as me helping you not kill people when the next full moon comes around and-…"
"And me out of the goodness of my heart helping you out of a tight spot if you get stuck in one."
"…"
She loathed his impression of a brick wall.
"Going to be honest and say I don't like that. In case you haven't noticed I'm not even healed and any master plan you've got for whatever it is you've got going on isn't going to come to fruition within the week."
"Master plan?" The notion seemed to annoy the piss out of him from the expression that tightened his face when he spoke.
"Yeah, master plan. Unless you're just stockpiling newbie werewolves in case the day rolls around when the war against humanity happens and zombies attack, again not to seem like a twat but you seem kind of shady."
"So that makes me a bad guy?"
Studying him she figured it depended on who she asked. "Are you a bad guy?"
"I haven't killed anyone and I haven't bitten anyone, I'm just cleaning up the mess and trying to contain it."
"Alri-…"
Her lungs seized and she started coughing violently, her ribs flexing and diaphragm shivering.
He didn't look the least bit concerned.
"Do you have Vasiline?"
"First aid bag, bedroom closet, little packets called A and D ointment," she sputtered between coughs.
He came back and ripped open the tiny packets for her. She rubbed the clear paste on her teeth and palate and spewed black bitterness into the sink, she bashed her head on the facet when she was trying to arrange her hair on top of her head and away from her mouth.
"It'll stop after about an hour, you're body will filter the rest out itself."
She flashed him a sarcastic thumbs up and kept coughing, kept spewing black tar froth from her heaving lungs.
"You hungry?" She asked after ten minutes of relieving her lungs of tar via lung convulsions and washing her mouth out and spitting too many times to count.
She wanted to brush her teeth. She wanted a cigarette and more coffee first. Looking down at her legs she realized her sweatpants were sticking to the blood on her legs. Pulling at the fabric she released the gruesome seal of it.
"What are you going to cook?"
"Ever have liver?"
"…you eat liver?"
He gave her a look she got a lot from her friends and sister when they found out she ate liver.
"Organ meats are very good for you," she rationalized.
"Do you make it with onions?"
She hated onions, "Onions are vile, can't stand them."
"I'll eat then."
"You can sleep in the spare bedroom if you want, or the couch. You look tired, did you sleep?"
She wanted to be nice and prove that she wasn't a complete asshole.
"…No."
"Why not?"
"You don't sleep quietly."
Rolling her eyes she remembered the time Molly informed her during a sleep-over that she sounded like a dying deer. "I know. By the way you really need to shave, you look homeless."
"…"
His lips twitched.
"Is that funny?"
"No."
"Looked like you thought it was for a second," she pointed out.
"You're seeing things."
"…"
It felt odd that they had just exchanged a joke, dreamlike in its surrealism.
"I thought you were cooking," he watched her pour more coffee.
"I will after I finish my coffee and have a cigarette and take a shower."
"Forget it. I have to go."
"Alright, so go."
She wondered where his attitude had come from.
"I'll be back in a few days," he told her walking out the back door.
"You can use the door instead of crawling through a window if you want," she yelled after he closed the door.
"Asshole," she added with a mumble knowing he could still hear her.
Day 49:
She felt incredibly useless. Though it helped the whole 'quit your job,' thing. She had never planned on quitting she realized paying the idea some thought, not that it mattered much after the phone call.
Drag Queen Mike had called and told her that the agency was pulling her and the other nurses off the job because of all the news coverage over the incidents and in hindsight she thought it was smart of them.
He told her the agency was getting some major heat from the Beacon Hills facility because of liability issues that could spring up if she and her team stuck around and decided later to sue because of an unsafe work environment, they sweetened the deal with the assuagement that, yes, she and the other nurses would get paid for the time they would have worked if they stayed on.
The numbers worked themselves out. She just earned a year's worth of pay and her bonus, she wasn't complaining. She toyed with the idea of getting a new car, or new furniture for her apartment.
She had the phone in hand to call her sister and tell her the news but hung up after she put all the numbers in disconnecting the call. It was better that everyone think she was still working for the next nine months she decided putting the phone back in its cradle.
Without a job she felt like wasted space, there was nothing to do and there was only so much time she could devote to television and reading through medical textbooks. At least she was free of pelvic pins and plates, she decided.
She needed a hobby but nothing came to mind besides crocheting, which she admitted to herself she was horrible at. Then she pondered if it was too late to sign up for online classes towards her master's.
That gave her pause and she filed the idea away in her mind as possible.
She was wondering if she had any pamphlets for a nurse practitioner course in her file box upstairs when the phone rang.
Cursing she wondered if her name had popped up on her sister's caller ID and if the younger girl was calling her back. She tried to think of what a good reason to call would have been.
It wasn't her sister. It was Trish.
"Hey, Trish."
"Hey, I just wanted to call and tell you that the wake is today."
"What wake?"
"Shrineburg's, it's at four. Are you going?"
"Yeah, I'll be there."
"How you feeling, better? You and your man work it out?"
"You know when we first met I thought you were the prude type of woman, I now see that I was wrong."
"Me a prude? Hilarious let me put my hubby on so he can have a good laugh too."
"He's a lucky man."
"I make sure he remembers every day. That's the key to a good relationship, you know."
"Daily booty?"
"Yep."
"I'm feeling much better. I can limp around without wanting to tear my legs off."
"When are you going for the x-ray?"
"Maybe tomorrow depends. I have to find an office that does it."
"Why don't you just do it here at the hospital?"
"Can't, they pulled us."
"No they didn't."
"They did, got the call an hour ago."
"I'm going to miss you, Lucette. We don't get a lot of nurses like you coming in."
"That's sweet, thanks Trish."
"I mean it, you know what you're talking about and you're a tough cookie. I like that and the doctors like it and the aides like that you will wipe ass or clean dentures if you have to without being a bitch about it."
"I don't know what to say."
"You're so humble."
"Thank you, Trish. Mean it."
"You're welcome. Do you need a ride?"
"No, I'm okay. I can drive now."
"You should have Dee Jay drive you."
"Dee Jay is being an absolute prick."
"Is he, what happened?"
"Nothing just he gets impatient, I was going to make breakfast yesterday and he got all pissy when I didn't do it right then because I needed coffee and a smoke and a shower first and he is the worst sometimes."
"I was surprised you had a boyfriend actually."
"Why?"
"You seem kind of manly."
"So you thought I was a lesbian?"
"Or a feminist."
"Shrineburg thought I was a lesbian too, offered to set me up with some doctor lady."
"Joy?"
"I think that was what he said her name was."
"She's pretty, I'd hit that if I was into girls."
"Well Dee Jay would love that."
"Most men do honey, threesomes and what not."
"He can like it all he wants, so not happening. I am not that kind of girl."
"I feel the same way, I got a man and I'm not sharing."
"Amen, sister."
"Hallejujah."
"So four today?"
"Yep. You know where the funeral home is?"
"Yeah, it's the two story house one next to the elementary school right?"
"That's the one, kind of looks like the one from that movie where the kid gets stung to death by bees."
"Oh my god! It does. Love that movie."
"Me too! Listen I got to go the kids are hitting each other with my shoes. I'll see you later."
"Okay, see you then."
It was two in the afternoon when Derek Hale showed up again, she heard him walk across her backyard and figured that he was taking her advice to use the door. She didn't feel the need to move from her crouch in a half-dressed state thumbing through her files for the pamphlet she was looking for.
When he swung onto the roof and found the window locked he just glared through the glass at her. She fell back onto her butt when she noticed him, surprised and angry.
She was embarrassed to be seen in her hosiery and hair curlers with her starched shirt hanging open over her bra and her underwear visible through the nylon on her legs.
He crouched and kept the gargoyle impression all the way to his face. He looked grim and pissed and knocked on the glass.
"Get off my roof before you fall through, use the back door."
When he didn't move and knocked again she flung a spiral notebook at the window and scowled.
"Unlock it or I'll break it," he said muffled by the glass.
"Use the door," she answered blithely.
"Okay, I'm going to break the window," he informed her.
"You'll be buying me a new one."
He started ripping off the wood around the glass in response. She couldn't believe it, her jaw dropped and she flung a book at him as he swung into the room after yanking the glass out.
"I broke it. Have fun fixing it."
"In case you haven't noticed I'm not dressed, wasn't going to get up and open the window."
"I would have closed my eyes."
He walked around the room and ran a finger over the spines of her books; it felt like an invasion of her personal space, she bit the inside of her cheek to quell her aggravation.
"Uh-huh, sure. Creeper."
"I'm not a creeper."
"Creepers climb through windows."
"…"
"Not the best time by the way. I have to finish getting ready to go out." She flicked through another folder and finding nothing put it back without flourish.
"You think now is a good time to go on a dinner date?"
"Date with a dead man. Real fun. Heh, that's pretty funny actually."
"What?"
"Because of that nut-bag Jennifer killing everyone I'm going to a wake you creeper."
"…"
"I'm going. Is that allowed?"
"Don't go near the hospital." He went back to looking at her books.
"Wasn't planning on it." She raised her head and glared at the wall. "They terminated my contract anyway, so I'm not a nurse there anymore."
"Don't leave town."
"Do you know how much it cost to rent this house for nine months?"
"No."
"A lot. In cash. I'm not going anywhere."
He sat in her chair. "Have you told anyone?"
"I thought it better not to mention it to my family."
"Smart."
He didn't make it sound like a compliment.
"I'm not dumb, if that's what you've been thinking. Screw it, I can't find it. Close your eyes or turn around I have to get up and put on my skirt."
She waited until he did and got up to go downstairs. She could hear him a few steps behind. Lucette sighed and huffed half-way down the stairs.
"When I said turn around and close your eyes I didn't mean for a second and then follow me down the stairs."
"My eyes are closed," he grumbled.
"Not with that tone they're not."
"I can't see anything."
"Don't care."
She realized after she said it that she shouldn't have because he minced her meaning and took it to mean that she didn't care if he looked or not, she did but she said she didn't care and he took it wrong.
Looking over her shoulder she saw that he was looking at her face, he glanced down at her ass and raised an eyebrow when he looked back from the cursory eye shift.
"Nice thong."
She scowled, "Wanna borrow one since you're so found of having things crawl up your ass?"
"…," His small smile of triumph faded with her remark.
The scales rebalanced themselves.
She went into the bathroom and started unrolling her curlers, tossing them into the sink.
"Creeper," she told his reflection.
"You look like a poodle."
"…"
"What? Are you offended now?"
"No, just thinking. Someone always has to say that when I curl my hair. Like I have no idea what poodles look like."
"It looks better the other way."
"That's a guy thing," she told him yanking on one tangled piece hair stuck on a curler.
"…"
"Guys like long straight hair…and ponytails. It looks feminine; it's an ingrained psychological response," she explained.
"Probably because girls with hair like that look ridiculous compared to other's who don't style themselves after dogs."
"Sure. Whatever. Who cares."
She walked away into her bedroom and put on her skirt and heels; she tucked in her shirt and found him standing at the other entrance to the room. She picked up her black sun hat and examined it for dust or imperfections.
"Overkill."
"What are you my fashion advisor? Go do something. Stop creeping on me while I get ready. And the hat is for tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Midnight mass, in a catholic church you're supposed to wear a hat."
"I didn't come all the way to have you to make plans."
"If you had said 'hey, I'm swinging by on Monday don't make any plans,' I wouldn't have made plans. Don't bitch about it when you're the one being vague about when you will and won't stop by."
"What time are you coming back?"
"Probably a little after seven no later than eight."
"I'll come back at eight."
"For what?"
"To try and teach you something."
"Teach me what exactly?"
"How to shift."
"Can you teach someone that in three hours?"
"Basics. Since you said you're not dumb."
"If there was a book written about it I'd teach myself. Is there a book?"
"What do you think?"
"Then I guess I'll just have to settle with you, god this reeks," she said about her deodorant.
"Your sense of smell is better."
"I noticed."
"That's cologne."
He pointed at the bottle she picked up off her vanity.
"It smells better than the perfume version," she sprayed herself and pulled her cigarettes from her purse. "You got a lighter?" He threw it to her, she caught it. "Thanks. Want one?"
She threw over the lighter and her pack at his nod of affirmation and caught the pack when he tossed it back.
Leaving the room she made a point to show him where the ashtray was.
"Whose wake is it?"
"Doctor Shrineburg."
"Shrineburg? Midnight mass."
"Converted Catholic did it for his wife."
"What about you?"
She thought it was an odd question from a guy like him.
"Me?"
"Yeah, you."
He took a drag.
"I'm not anything. There's things I'll never know about, and then you know that's where belief is supposed to come in so I guess I believe in everything there is to believe in."
"Like werewolves?"
"Kinda, everyone hopes that there's something else out there that they might be able to touch one day but it's weird to actually do that."
"I wouldn't know."
"You wouldn't, so you've always been like this?"
"I was born this way."
"Oh, mind trip."
"What?"
"Nothing, just like you have no idea what it's like to be my version of normal. The creeper thing you got is just natural creeper talent, you didn't, like, learn it." She smiled.
"Can you stop calling me a creeper?"
"Does that offend you?"
"Shut up."
"Heh," she grinned at her reflection in the mirror by the front door, and jingled her keys in her palm.
"Anyone ever tell you you're a bitch?"
"Usually they put an adjective in front of it, hard bitch, cold bitch, mean bitch, pissy bitch, bitchy bitch, and so on."
"I can't imagine why."
He tapped out ashes in the ashtray, she was grateful he at least had learned some manners.
"Though I guess I am an actual bitch now."
"Dog jokes, witty."
She rolled her eyes at his reflection as she made a pout and put on her lipstick, "What color?"
"'What color' what?"
She capped her lipstick and threw it in her purse smacking her lips and watching her curls bound into her eyes as she turned and smiled widely at him.
"What color thong did you want? I've got a purple paisley that would go great with your skin tone."
"What crawled up your ass?" He hissed.
"You breaking my window might have something to do with it, also my still broken bathroom wall contributed to my bitch mood."
His stomach growled loud enough for her too notice, she raised her eyebrows and waved at her kitchen.
"Is there still liver?"
"…Yeah, fridge. Help yourself. I need coffee."
She followed him into the kitchen. He was already eating the leftovers with his hands, "You didn't cook it."
"I did, for like fifteen seconds."
"You're like the woman who got impregnated by the devil."
"What are you talking about?"
"Short hair, actor husband, witches as neighbors."
She got the reference. "Oh, gotcha. You watch movies?"
"Did you really just ask that?"
"Honest question, did you go to highschool? College?"
"Highschool, I did auto repair the last two years."
"I went to trade school too."
"I know. I heard you talk about at the nursing home to someone."
"That's cree-…,yeah sorry. Won't say it, you get it. Can't help it, born that way."
"You talk a lot."
"Not usually," she shrugged and gulped down half of the mug and waved half-heartedly on her way out the door, calling out a warning to be good to her dog who was sulking around the backyard forlornly.
A/N: The movie about the woman getting impregnated by the devil with an actor husband and witches for neighbors that eating raw meat reminded Derek of is Rosemary's Baby. The Disney movie with the Huns, lizard dragon, and song about making a man out of someone is Mulan. I think that's all the references I made. If I missed one, let me know. Can you tell I had fun writing this? Because I totally did. Derek Hale is just plain fun to write dialogue for. And holy shit he tells jokes, not very funny ones but jokes. Too much fun did I have with this chapter, tis true. Oh and the movie with the kid that gets stung to death by bees is My Girl. Soma is a drug that technically is controlled but not here in the US, a controlled substance is usually a narcotic but not always they have different "schedules" or in lay terms levels of how high the chance for abuse is. Usually narcotics and drugs with abuse potential are double locked in a special cabinet or dispensed by an automatic system to prevent stealing, narcotics are kind of one of those things that are watched really closely in medical settings for obvious reasons.
