Chapter 14: The Date II

Jimmy complained the entire time they made their way to the bleachers furthest away from the rest of the crowd. The chill, the noise, the sickly smell of whatever sweet treat they were selling at the booth, everything offended him. Joe had to threaten to pull back her offer of the police files to make him shut up. They carried with them two takeout boxes with whatever deep-fried goodness Jimmy had ordered at the local diner and perched them on their knees after finding some seats.

"I still cannot believe you did not divulge that detail earlier," Jimmy muttered as he delicately dipped each individual fry in ketchup before eating it. He was referencing the police files, of course, and the anonymous delivery. "I get why you're so paranoid now."

Joe glared, but the irony seemed completely lost for him. Shrugging it off, she scanned the fields for the two players she cared about. She actually wasn't sure of Stiles' number — he'd never been on the field before, usually chilling on the bench with the other replacements. At least she saw Scott, thank God, and she waved in his direction hoping he would see her. He seemed busy looking for someone else though and Joe let her hand drop back.

She recognized Danny, of course, taking up his position as goalie. And the captain, or co-captain or however they were organized now, but still could not see Stiles.

"You see anyone with the Stilinski-name on his back?" she asked Jimmy and he also squinted at the players in red. They both came up short.

"Maybe he's running late," Jimmy suggested and kept eating his fries with infuriating meticulousness. Joe hadn't disclosed what had transpired earlier that day at the Stilinskis. She had problems wrapping her head around it. It sounded lame that she'd left a teenager alone with an alleged murderer because said murderer shouted at her and it made her scared.

Joe bit off her glove and sent a text-message to Stiles. Maybe his Jeep had stalled in the cold weather and he needed a ride. The reply came instantly.

'on my way!'

The downside of text-messaging was that it was difficult to confirm identities. Anyone could have written that text from Stiles' phone. Just like anyone could have written that other text from Aunt Mel's account. The only comfort she could find was that Derek Hale did not seem like the kind of guy to throw in an exclamation mark.

She put her phone in the pocket of her jeans — Jimmy had made her change into actual clothes and not loungewear — knowing she'd feel the vibration at least if someone called or texted. If he did not get her soon, the game would start without him.

It did. Without Stiles, the Coach made some rearrangements and brought Danny out from the goalie-position. Joe watched in silent fascination when Scott dominated much of the playing time, but passing the ball to Danny at every chance he got. The bleachers on the Beacon Hills-side exploded with each new goal, slowly putting Beacon Hills in the lead. Joe and Jimmy clapped politely — neither felt compelled to jump up and down, even with people around them chanting and hollering.

Jimmy nudged Joe when they reached half-time. He leaned back and smiled, something she could not remember if he had ever done before. When he spoke, he kept his mouth in that same smile: "Don't look, but is that woman over there staring at you? I said don't look!" He waited until Joe focused on him instead of spinning around to see what woman he was talking about. "Look down at your phone, she won't see you with your head bent. There, you see her? Blonde, conventionally attractive, sitting next to the dark-haired girl."

Kate Argent. Who else? Joe could make her out between her eye-lashes from the stupid position Jimmy had her in. Seated on the bleachers diagonally across from Joe and Jimmy, Kate sat squashed between her brother and niece. Instead of watching the players doing their second warm-up of the night, she had leaned forwards and studied Joe intently.

Joe shook her head a bit, putting away her phone, hoping to keep her face mostly hidden. "That's Kate Argent."

"Figured it might be," Jimmy murmured, took out his note book, and wrote down a brief physical description of Kate. Joe raised her eyebrow at this. "Just in case." He wrote medium-tall, athetic build, long dark blond hair. It was accurate, but not nearly enough to cover the bombshell she actually was. Joe swallowed and found it hard to fix her gaze on anything now, as if she could feel Kate's stare bore into her.

Half-time and still no Stiles. No reply when she texted him. Damn it.

"I think Stiles is in trouble." She kept her voice to a whisper, just in case Kate Argent had developed super hearing.

Jimmy let his contempt for police shine through. "Stiles...is that the Stilinski kid?"

Joe rolled her eyes and was going to berate him for focusing on that instead of the fact a high school boy might be in actual danger. She never got that far. Instead, she bent over her knees and grunted at a sudden jab of pain in her stomach. "Ugh!"

"Joe?"

"Ah!" Another round of hurt, now in her face. She hissed. Gut again. Twice. "God!"

It was like menstrual pain, sharp cramps appearing from nothing at random places in her body. It was like that near heart-attack from the other night, the one that she had tried her best to push to the back of her memory.

"Ow, shit!" she swore and now people were turning towards her. She tried to grin through the pain and grunted: "Time of the month, ya know."

"Are you hurting?" Jimmy asked and Joe widened her eyes, silently calling him out on what a stupid question that was. He seemed to catch on and hurriedly helped her stand. Joe flinched every time a new jolt hit, most centered on her chest, a few to her face. She touched her cheek, wondering how it wasn't swollen or bruised, while Jimmy aided her down the bleachers.

"Hospital," she croaked to Jimmy who helped her lay down in the back of her own car. "Please."

"I don't think they can help you." Jimmy sounded sincerely apologetic and he got in to start the car, leaving it in idle to get the heater running.

"What?" Joe bit out, now laying in a fetal position, clutching her aching abdoment. The jabs had stopped, at least temporarily. Was this what a burst appendix felt like? Did you get face cramps then?

"I think..." Jimmy drummed his hands on his knees, looking at her through the rearview mirror. "I think this means that Derek's in trouble."

You felt it, didn't you? Derek's question after last time. When she thought her heart would burst before finding him in a pool of blood. His pain, her pain. Her pain, his pain?

"That makes absolutely no sense," Joe said through gritted teeth, as much to herself as to Jimmy. Another crash hard against her back and she bent over. "AAAH!"

Like someone had thrown her through a wall, she felt her bones ache and burst, then the opposite when they pieced themself back together again. Her jaw strained as she tried to keep from crying out again.

"Look, I really don't know much about this." Jimmy was talking fast, almost too fast for her to catch everything. "This is really rare, on the border of mythical. I mean, I never thought I'd get to see it for myself. True mates, it's just, it's-"

"Shut up!"

Jimmy didn't stop, but Joe tuned him out in favor of writhing in agony. It was like being hit by a car or getting a beatdown by a whole gang of people. It'd been a while since she'd been on the receiving end of one and she had not exactly missed it.

A long while passed before she felt she could breathe again without her ribcage constraining her lungs. She groaned and pushed herself up to a seated position. The pain lessened gradually, subsiding back to whatever faulty organ had spurred it on. She twisted and turned, feeling if any of her bones had actually cracked or if it had just felt like it. Nothing induced excruciating pain, so she figured she would be fine.

She glared at Jimmy through the mirror who was still talking. "Would you please shut the hell up! I got enough problems without you and everyone else trying to fill my head with all this supernatural nonsense!"

He rolled his eyes and waved his hand at her. "Then how do you explain this?"

"I don't have to!" Joe claimed and fixed her shirt that had ridden up when twisting on her seats. "I'll leave that to the doctors."

"Your GP won't be able to help you!"

"Well, at least she can prescribe painkillers!" Joe shot back immediately. She glared out the window towards the lacrosse field. "Shit! We missed the second half."

Jimmy gave a feigned look of disappointment and said in a deadpanned voice: "Oh, no, how awful."

"Jimmy, I swear, please shut up!" Whatever good the meal had done her seemed to have evaporated after this last round of...whatever the hell it was. No amount of transfat in the world could substitute actual sleep and she was running pretty low on it these days. Maybe she'd check herself in the ER anyway, just to get some rest. Too bad the medical bills would bankrupt her.

"Car."

Joe's head snapped up. "What?"

"Car," Jimmy repeated and nodded towards a pair of headlights approaching rapidly. They sat high on the ground and when it parked carelessly in the middle of the lot, she confirmed it to be Stiles' Jeep.

Joe was out of the car in an instant and ran to intercept Stiles. His eyes were wide and his shirt stained with sweat, but looked unharmed when he almost ran her down.

"Joe!" he exclaimed as she said: "Stiles! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Well, no, I'm not. Like physically, I'm okay. Emotionally I can't even begin to list the damage," he rattled on while his whole body shook. Stiles turned his head this way and that. "Where's Scott?"

"He was playing..." Joe gestured towards the field, but they were shutting off the lights now. Party over. People were beginning to trek back to the parking lot. She turned back to Stiles, but found him gone. The top of his buzzcut zig-zagged between the crowd, making his way towards the school. Joe swore and dashed back to her car.

Jimmy sat where she'd left him when she tore open the passenger door to root through the glove compartment. He was infuriatingly calm. "What's going on?"

"I don't know!"

"Was he hurt?"

"No, I don't think so. Damn it, where is that goddamn-" she muttered darkly and rummaged through the contents. She'd left her best taser at home, but there should be a smaller backup here somewhere.

"What about Derek, is he okay?"

Joe snapped her head up to glare at Jimmy. "Who the hell cares about Derek?!"

Jimmy made a half-shrugging motion. "Well, you probably should."

"Arggh!" Joe, too angry for words, let out a guttural growl and clasped her hand over the smaller stun gun. Finally! She barked at Jimmy. "Stay here!"

Jimmy was already scrambling out of his seat. "Where are you going?"

"To find Scott!" Joe had already started running over the parking lot. She dodged people left and right, and happened to catch a glimpse of Kate and Allison just in time to dive behind a larger pickup truck. Smiling at the confused driver, she skulked alongside it and darted up on the other side to keep running. Stiles had been frantic in finding Scott and now she was too.

She made her way over the field to where she'd seen the players retreat after the game. The double doors opened to a hallway that laid darkened without even the emergency exit sign being on. Outside, the large spotlights on the field still shone. Not a power outage then.

Her winter boots squeaked on the lineloum in the empty hallway. She'd expected it to be full of players, but the game must have ended longer ago than she thought. No one was here. No one but her.

"The locker-"

"Ah!" Joe hollered and spun around with the stun gun out. Jimmy jumped back and barely avoided electrocution by her hands. "Jesus Christ, Jimmy!"

Jimmy held his breath until she let her thumb of the trigger. "Okay," he said in a calming manner. "Like I was trying to tell you, the locker rooms are down this way."

"I thought I told you to stay in the car!" Joe hissed, but went in the direction he indicated.

"I don't see how that would be helpful in any way," Jimmy retorted and Joe swallowed the response where she wanted to ask how he was planning to be helpful by coming along. At least it made the deserted school less creepy and Jimmy knew his way around here, not surprising at he'd spent at least four years roaming these halls. Based on his physique, she doubted he had spent too much time in the locker rooms though. If so, it was probably in an actual locker.

When they got closer, they heard the voices of Scott and Stiles. Joe let out a deep breath and switched off her stun gun to put it in her pocket. Whatever they were discussing, Stiles was doing most of the talking and it sounded like a vivid reenactment of some kind of fight.

"...then he was just suddenly there, like BAM, with his face all..."

"Shh."

"No, with his face all-"

"Stiles, shh, I think I hear something."

"You two are going to be the absolute death of me," Joe exclaimed when entering through the doors to the boys' locker rooms. It smelled just as bad as expected and she idly wondered if her nostrils would shut down in protest. At least she could avoid inhaling all of Derek Hale again. Scott and Stiles were lounging on some benches — Scott's wet hair hung flat on his head, the obvious aftermaths of a shower. Like the hallways, the locker rooms bathed in darkness.

"Joe, what are you doing here?" Scott asked, but instead of answering, Joe trudged up to him and gave him a tired hug. Satisfied that he seemed alive and well, she turned to Stiles and gave him the same kind of exhausted embrace.

Stiles seemed happy enough when she let go, but the expression faltered at the sight of Jimmy in the doorway. "Who's he?"

Joe looked over her shoulder at the checkered pants, messy haired, bushy bearded Jimmy Carter. "Oh, that's Jimmy."

Stiles did a dancing motion with his head. "Oh, that's Jimmy, my best friend? My boyfriend? My dance partner? What?"

"Just Jimmy," Joe murmured, knowing Jimmy probably would prefer to leave his last name out of it. He hovered in the doorway, not coming in, and just nodded in greeting to Scott and Stiles.

Joe tried to look Scott and Stiles over. No apparent injuries, and the emotional damage on Stiles was probably all on the inside. The adrenaline crash made her feel like a five day old balloon. No air left.

"Are you okay?" she asked Scott, who nodded a bit uncertainly. She turned to Stiles. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, well..."

Joe accepted Stiles' hesitant answer and nodded to herself. "Okay. Good. We're all okay. Everything's okay. Okay. I'm gonna go home now. Okay? And sleep, if that's okay."

"You do not look like you should be driving." It was Scott who pointed this out, a lucky fact, because he was tough enough to withstand her glare.

"I'll drive," Jimmy said from the doorway. He held up her keys as proof.

Stiles mouthed: "Who are you?", but everyone ignored him. Joe waved a hand at them over her back and trudged after Jimmy, already half asleep.

"...continued police presence as the intensified search for Derek Hale continues. For sports, we are proud to announce that the Beacon Hills Cyclones are heading for the state championship after beating fellow Beacon County high school..."

The kitchen radio, tuned into a local station, summarized last night's surprising triumph for the local high school team after a report on how main suspect in the murder of George Hall remained at large. Joe nursed a strong cup of coffee, listening with half an ear, but mostly just staring out the window. She was trying, she was really trying, to take Professor Kane's advice, but her mind seemed to work against her.

True to his word, Jimmy had driven her home last night. Unfortunately, by the time they got back, Aunt Mel was home from work and had given Joe all kinds of knowing smirks after Jimmy left. She'd caught on that Joe was too tired to talk, but Joe figured there was another uncomfortable conversation looming ahead.

True to her word, Joe slept through the night and most of the following day. No new assignments waited for her in her inbox, and she tried to remember what she actually used to do when not working or running around after Scott. Right now she settled for bird watching, a suitably boring activity to contrast the last few weeks. Outside, Aunt Mel's beat up car swung into the driveway and seconds later the front door opened.

"Hi, I'm home, I'm late, I need to shower!"

Aunt Mel ran through the hallway, shouting over her shoulder to whoever listened. Joe did not have time to turn before Aunt Mel slammed the upstairs bathroom door shut again. Looks like that uncomfortable conversation was postponed a little longer. Fine by her.

Scott should be home any second now too. That was her main reason for lounging in the kitchen instead of her room, so she could confront him the second he got home. She needed some answers. She deserved some answers.

Coffee cup now empty, she rinsed it absentmindedly in the sink. She had thought — no, hoped — that a good night's sleep would make her feel better again. It hadn't. After yesterday, she just felt...hollow. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see Derek's face contorted in a furious rage. Roaring at her to go, to leave, to get out! The clatter of the coffee cup hitting the bottom of the sink snapped her out of her thoughts. Her fingers trembled so hard she'd dropped the cup and she flexed them to get them back under control.

"Get a grip," she mumbled and slammed her hand against the tap to stop the water. Sighing, she put both hands on the counter and leaned forwards, bending her head to ease out some tension in her neck. Sleep, food, coffee — why did she still look and feel like a deflated old football?

Something prickled the back of her neck. Humans could not actually sense being watched — several experiments had disproved it — but Joe could not shake that exact feeling. Slowly, trying to breathe evenly, she craned her neck up again to look out the window. In the still bright afternoon, the sun glittered on frozen dead leaves on the ground. On the sidewalk, Derek Hale stood with both hands in his pockets, looking right at her.

Instinct had her take a step back and she bumped against the kitchen table. She did not dare break eye contact, afraid he would skulk back in the shadows only to reappear somewhere else if she did. The radio continued prattling on about the new low front approaching the county, upstairs Aunt Mel hummed in the shower, and in the kitchen she could hear her own quick breaths.

Like a cornered prey, she remained rooted in front of the window. Even from this distance, she could tell something was off. He looked fine — hell, he always looked fine — but there was not a scratch on him. Nothing at all to indicate he had been hurt yesterday, if she was willing to lend even a half a thought to Jimmy's theory. Her phone lay behind her on the table and she reached for it slowly, hoping the counter cut her bottom half from his field of vision.

Derek shrugged his head in the direction of their backyard. His eyebrows were slightly drawn together in a soft expression; suggestive, inviting. Joe found herself nodding in consent and he disappeared from sight towards the back.

Keeping her hands concealed behind her, she exited through the back door. The last rays of sunshine highlighted the deep black of his hair and made his already bright eyes glow. Like through the window, he kept his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. More importantly, he stayed more than twelve feet away. Out of range from her taser.

"You got exactly ten seconds before I call the cops," Joe said and the grass crunched under her sandals she wore around the house. The fresh air and the distance dilluted his scent, making it easier for her to think.

Derek's eyes flickered to her hands hidden behind her back before returning to her face. His soft eyes did not match the authorative stance. "You okay, Joe?"

Was she okay? No. Was that something to admit to a psychotic stalker slash murderer (alleged)? No. Instead, she bit out: "Nine."

"We should talk." The edges of Derek's lips lifted slightly, a carefree and casual expression. His eyes did not follow. Fake. Liar. He even shrugged, and compared to his usual low-key body language it looked theatrical. "I'm sure you have questions."

Too many. Too many questions, but her problems laid in too many answers. "Eight."

"You feel it too, right?" Derek took a step forward and her fingers tightened around the plastic handle behind her. Something had happened, he was...different. "This connection between us?"

"Seven." If he took one more step closer, he was in range. Problem was he would expect it. She had one shot. It wasn't a gun where she could empty a magazine at him, she only had the single chance to get him. If she missed... "Six."

He tilted his head a bit, again appearing to listen to something. Derek gave her a half-smile and this one actually did reach his eyes, as if in relief. "You're not scared. You're angry."

Joe's lips lifted in a grimace. One more step. One more step and she had him. She drew out the word, trying to stay calm, not waste the shot. "F-i-v-e."

Just as she thought he was going to take the last step towards her, he stepped back instead. The light in his eyes dimmed and all that was left was his usual blank expression. No softness, no edge, nothing. "There's gonna be a lot happening now, Joe. You should consider staying indoors until we're done-"

"Done with what?" she snapped. Her arms ached from clutching her phone and taser behind her, poised and ready over two different triggers. "Getting your revenge? Killing people?"

His nostrils flared and he seemed to resist the urge to take his hands out of his pockets. The leather creaked at his bulging biceps. "You know I haven't killed anyone. Otherwise you would have called the cops the second you saw me."

"Trust me, I don't even know what I know these days!" Joe's thumbs were cramping, if she pushed down, she'd call 911 immediately. Unable to take it, she released her arms forwards to emphasize her words. "Now get out! Get out of my yard, of my house, of my car, of my room, of my bed, of my nose, of my life!"

He took a step back at her outburst, eyebrows slightly drawn together again, unsure, nervous. Gaze flickering, scouring her face, looking for something she was obviously not giving him. "Your n-"

"911, what's your emergency?"

Their eyes met — his wide, hers narrowed. He had not thought she would actually go through with it. The dispatch operator repeated her question and Joe put the phone to her ear, never taking her eyes off Derek.

Her voice shook. "My name is Josefina Delgado, I live in 821 Williamson Road, Beacon Hills. There's a strange man in my backyard, he looks like that police sketch-"

Derek let out a harsh growling noise in disbelief. He gritted his teeth, turned on his heel and took off straight into the forest. The bushes rustled in his wake, moving fast away from the house.

"-of Derek Hale," Joe finished into the phone. She struggled to breathe, as if the guilt suffocated her from the inside. She did not have a choice though. He did not give her a choice. She had to do it, to protect her family. Whatever Derek was mixed up in — he might not be the murderer, but he was too deep involved to be innocent — she wanted no part of it. Not for her, not for Scott.

"Ma'am, I'm dispatching a patrol car to your location. Can you still see the individual?"

"No." Joe slumped against the backdoor. Not even the scent of Derek lingered. He was long gone. "No, he took off."

"Okay, I understand, ma'am. The police is on their way, please hold the line."

She stayed outside until the police car finally arrived, sirens blaring, and the 911-operator signed off. The deputies took her statement ("You sure he was on foot? No sign of a vehicle? Where did you first see him?") and trekked maybe twenty yards into the forest, looking for tracks. They pressed her if she was sure of the identity, showed her the rough police sketch several times. No picture, she noted to herself. How could they not have a picture of him?

"Did he say anything to you? Did he have a weapon on him?"

Joe answered no to all of their questions. Just as they were packing up to leave, after noting her name and contact information in case of any follow-ups, Aunt Mel appeared by the open backdoor. That had to be an excessive shower, Joe thought, she'd been in there for ages. Dressed in just her bathrobe and slippers, Aunt Mel froze at the sight of the deputies.

"Ma'am," the older of the pair said to her with a respectful nod. Aunt Mel clutched her bathrobe shut and nodded stiffly in return. Grimacing, she tore off her towel turban and gave Joe a look of worry and irritation mixed together.

"Why are the police here?" Aunt Mel hissed when she ushered Joe back into the warmth of the kitchen. Aunt Mel plodded to the hallway window to peer out at the police car driving away again. "Did something happen?"

"I called them, I thought I saw that guy from the news outside," Joe mumbled, not in the mood for lying. Her brows furrowed as she studied her aunt. "Did you shave your legs?"

Aunt Mel had a thin line of blood running from her ankle, as if she nicked herself with a razor. Aunt Mel tried to cross her legs the other way and struggled to get the bathrobe to cover even more of herself. "Yes, Joe, occasionally I, too, fall victim to the anti-feminist societal standards, like all others." Satisfied that the cops were gone, she tried to look sternly at Joe. "What guy from the news?"

"The one wanted for the school-incident."

"Derek Hale? Here? In our backyard?" Now Aunt Mel flip-flopped to the backdoor again to make sure he wasn't lurking back there.

"I'm not sure, he looked similar." Again, Joe's brows furrowed when Aunt Mel passed her. She wrinkled her nose. "Are you wearing perfume?"

"Yes, Joe, yes, I'm wearing perfume," Aunt Mel said in an exasperated tone. She turned away from this window too and her brows were knotted in an uncertain smile. "Is it too much? Like, overpowering in any way? If it is, I can take another shower. If I just do it right now, I can still make it."

"No, I like it," Joe said as earnestly as she could. "Just, uh, why are you wearing perfume?"

"Well," said Aunt Mel as she wrung her hands together. Whatever it was, it was enough to take her mind off the fact that a known fugitive could possibly have strolled through her backyard. She smiled again, nervously, excited. "I got a date."

I hope I'm not bombarding you with all these updates. I'm writing a lot more than I post, so I don't worry about running out of chapters anytime soon.

So, I hope everyone remembers who Melissa McCall has a date with and why Derek was getting a beatdown when everyone else attended the game. Joe is getting tired of all the mystery, poor thing. Also, name reveal! Joe is actually Josefina. It's meant to have a Spanish pronunciation: "ho-se-fi-na"

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thank you all so much for reading and especially thank you to the reviewers. I really look forward to hearing your thoughts about the chapter 3