Chapter 74: The Detective II
That's the thing, you can do something about Verne. He's your beta too, remember?
It was probably telling of her current mental state that Joe had her best sleep in months after shooting Derek. A lot to unpack there. He wasn't dead, she was sure of that. It had been two days and he was still missing though, which Stiles showed up to tell her.
For some reason, Jimmy had buzzed Stiles in and then actually allowed him into the apartment. Jimmy's motives remained his own and she was only halfway sure he hadn't just let Stiles in to mess with her. Maybe he wanted to show off his investigation-board to someone like-minded.
Raindrops tapped against the windows in the living room where he stood watching downtown Beacon Hills. The kid looked as tired as she felt and his mouth was in a hard tight line when he first looked at her. Eyes flickering, not sure where to land. "Hi."
"Uh, hi," she replied uncertainly, standing near the coffee machine with the only cup of coffee she was allowed to have today. He looked more resigned than repulsed, but in her head, his face kept morphing to the horrified expression he had when she had shot Derek.
"I, uh, just came from the loft," he said, as usual all jittery and spazzy, but not excessively so. Limited to just twitching fingers and uncomfortable shrugging. "Cora and Boyd still haven't found Derek."
"Okay?"
"Aaaand you don't care," Stiles said, bouncing on his feet. "Okay. Not sure what I expected."
"She cares," Jimmy supplied from where he was by the investigation-board, pulling a red thread through connected pins on the map. Joe glared at him and he winked back at her. "But not a lot."
Stiles took one look at her expression and changed the subject. "Uh, anyway, at the loft, Peter was telling this story that I thought you'd might want to hear."
"Anything coming from Peter Hale should be taken with a grain of salt," Jimmy supplied 'helpfully' again, "or a tablespoon preferably."
Stiles gave him a disbelieving scoff. "Obviously. So, Peter told us about when Derek was in high school, there was this girl-"
"If this is about Paige Krasikeva," Jimmy did not even turn around, "I'm sure I can tell that story better than Peter."
Making some weird motions with his neck, Stiles's eyebrows danced on his face. "Okay, dude, you have just jumped up to second place on my list of the three creepiest people I know."
"Jimmy was in the same year as Derek," Joe said tiredly before the two idiots could start bickering. She gave Jimmy a brief warning glare over Stiles' shoulder. "Peter told you about her?" Stiles nodded and Joe made a face. "He's such an ass. Why would he tell you that? And why are you telling me?"
It took a few seconds for Stiles to come up with an answer and he scratched his neck: "Uh, well, I just thought that you'd want to know-"
"No." Realizing she sounded too harsh, Joe sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Look, I made Derek a promise once. I already know too much about it and that's his story to share when and if he ever felt like it, so..."
In many ways, she and Stiles shared a lot of personality traits and she could practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes. He bit on his thumbnail. "So, it's true?"
Jimmy hummed. "Not the way Peter told it, I'm sure."
"What's it to you anyway?" Joe crossed her arms, hoping Jimmy got the message. She watched Stiles squirm, much like she had done once, when Derek demanded the same of her. "I get that you're curious, but it doesn't change anything. Derek's still Derek and he's entitled to his privacy."
"Huh." Stiles's eyebrows were up high. "You do care."
"Shut up."
"If I were you," Jimmy cut in before Stiles could respond, "I'd worry more about Peter's motives for telling you. His knowledge rarely comes free."
Stiles's hand dropped from his mouth. "He didn't mention a price tag."
"Not yet, no. But maybe sometime in the future, when Peter needs the goodwill of the Sheriff's son, you'll think something along the lines of how helpful he was now and then extend that goodwill. Peter always plays the long game, you'd be wise to remember that."
"That's what he did with you? Play the long game?"
Joe could see Jimmy's mouth stretch into a wry grin as he kept going with the board. "Sort of. In the end, I like to think we played each other."
Stiles nodded, looking mildly disgusted. "Yeah, you're climbing that list inch by inch, dude." He sighed as he turned back to Joe, shrugging around as if to make his shirt fit better. "Okay, uh, one more thing. I didn't tell this to Scott, but the way you and that toenail-lady was talking — are you working with the Alphas?"
Aware of Jimmy's glowing eyes peering her way, Joe leaned against the kitchen island with her arms crossed. "Working with the Alphas to do what?"
"That's-" Stiles began and did a disappointed head tilt. "That's not the outright denial I was hoping for." He snapped his fingers a few times in the air as if hoping to catch whatever fleeting thought he wanted to hang on to. "Do you happen to, you know, feel you have to protect them to protect yourself?"
"What?"
"Or do you," he talked slowly, like a student trying to recall a passage verbatim from the textbook, "somehow feel they are victims themselves?"
"What?" Joe repeated, glancing at Jimmy to see if he made any sense of this. "Stiles, what are you-"
"Do you have negative feelings towards the police or other people who are trying to, uh, help you away from your captors?"
"The police has nothing to do with..." Joe trailed off and her eyes opened wider — this was sounding familiar. Too familiar. "Are you trying to diagnose me with Stockholm Syndrome?"
His face underwent a series of grimaces, both to deny and indicate this might be the case. "No, no, I'm just trying to open," he mimed his hands opening something, "you to the possibility this might have happened." He cleared his throat. "Psychoeducation is the first step on recovery-"
Covering her face with her hands, Joe groaned. "Oh my God."
"-because knowing what you're up against is the best offense to win the battle for your loved one's psychological freedom," Stiles concluded with a close-lipped smile. At her unimpressed expression, he shrugged wildly. "Look, three months is a long time! The original Stockholm Syndrome-case developed over the course of six days."
"Stiles, I know what Stockholm syndrome is. I know the triggers, the characteristics, and I know that it's an evolutionary carry-on from our hunter-gatherer days where women were abducted to enemy tribes and they adapted to ensure the survival of their offspring."
"Yeah, but listen," Stiles brought up a folded piece of paper from his pocket, lint scattering to the floor when he unfolded it to read. His voice came in a rush, not stopping to breathe or give her the chance to interrupt. "The condition can develop when kidnapping victims are treated humanely or there's intermittent good and bad behavior that creates trauma bonds or especially when some victims are isolated from other victims where only the perpetrators' input is allowed, a phenomena of so-called uber-propaganda."
Joe rubbed her face again. "Stiles, Stockholm syndrome happens to less than eight percent of kidnapping victims in total. It's blown out of proportions from pop-culture and one of the main characteristics is that the victims don't try to escape given the chance," she gestured between herself and the attentive Jimmy, "and we did."
Her frown deepened when Stiles bobbed his head and carefully asked: "Yeah, but did you?" As her shoulders rose, preparing to snap back, he hurried to elaborate. "Joe, I watched you shoot Derek! With a gun! In the chest! And then you just tossed Boyd into a wall where it now looks like a wrecking ball took a swing at it! And when we're on the subject, how are you able to do that? Are you a werewolf?"
"No."
He gave her a second to continue before he did a full-body stutter, ending with throwing his hands up. "Oh my God, you are being so unhelpful right now! Then what are you?"
"I don't know!" Joe half-shouted back. "Okay? I don't-" She shook her head, wishing she could have more coffee. "Deucalion doesn't even know. They don't know if I've developed super strength to keep up with Derek's powers or if it's," she swallowed, "something else. Activation of the mate-bond seems to be the trigger at least."
"Okay. Thank you. But just, hypothetically, what would happen if, like, Derek bit you?"
"Hypothetically, I would get a bite mark and he would get shot. Repeatedly."
Stiles grimaced. "You're not gonna help us find him, huh?"
"He left on his own!" she snapped. "Why are you harassing me to find him?"
"Because as much as you hate Derek, we need him to beat the Alphas. Scott needs him. Okay? Remember Scott? Your cousin?" Stiles held his hand out. "Yea high, brown hair, puppydog eyes."
"Jesus Christ, Stiles!" Joe slammed the coffee cup, now empty, onto the kitchen island so it snapped clean in half. "What do you want me to do? I already suggested the GPS-collars and everyone said no back then."
"Cora says you should be abl-"
"If I was able to find Derek via this so-called connection, don't you think he would have been able to find me when I was locked up for two-"
"Three."
"-three," Joe corrected based on Jimmy's input, "months? Wouldn't he have 'felt' something was wrong? I'm not a Derek-tracker, Stiles, sorry. Go ask your History-teacher or whatever she is instead."
It blurted out, but based on the flinch that passed through Stiles, Scott had probably told him about it. He seemed unable to stop correcting her though. "English. She's our English teacher."
"Whatever, I don't care. I can't help you, Stiles. I'll help Scott, always, to the end of the line, but I can't find Derek for you. He's probably just holed up somewhere in the woods, brooding and stuff." Joe shook out her curls, feeling too hot and constricted by thinking about Derek. It was tempting to tap into the connection, just for a second, to feel if he was hurt — but she couldn't. Not even for a second. "Worry more about the fact that the Darach still has six more victims to go and we still haven't come close to finding her."
Stiles's nose became sharp as he inhaled. "Okay, fine. Do we know what's next? Virgins, warriors, healers and...what?"
"We're probably going to find out soon," Jimmy said, oblivious to the tense mood as he was focused on the map of telluric currents and the lunar cycle calendar pinned to the board. "Five days until the lunar eclipse and I'm guessing she needs some time to recharge between every round of sacrifices. There's some pattern here to the timeline, I just can't see it yet."
"Well, can you start seeing it before my dad gets an aneurysm by trying to solve the unsolvable?" Stiles gestured at Joe. "Your dad is adamant it's a serial killer. I tried telling them they were sacrifices, but they didn't believe me. At all."
Joe breathed out, trying to get her brain to start working again. "Motive. We're still missing the motive. Each victim group represents something she wants to gain, but why is she gathering strength? If it is to take down the Alpha Pack, why? Motive, means, opportunity. It's the Crime 101."
"Okay," said Stiles with his hands up. "Okay, Crime 101. What are the most common motives for ancient Celtic sacrifices?"
"You're missing the point, Stiles. Forget the sacrifices, those are just a necessary evil." Joe hated the description and so did Stiles by the look on his face. His friend, she remembered. "Motive, means, opportunity. The sacrifices are the means, not the motive." She took a deep breath and stared at the back of Jimmy's neck. "Some say there are only three real motives for murder: power, sex, or revenge."
Sound of rain drizzling against the window panes filled the apartment while they all thought about this.
"Killing the Alphas probably won't make her stronger than the sacrifices makes her," Joe said. "Rules out power."
Stiles cleared his throat. "Not that the Alphas aren't hot, but I'm guessing sex isn't the most likely motive here."
"Then it is simple." The back of Jimmy's shoulders flexed as he shrugged. "The Alphas have left a wide body trail in their wake. Revenge is the obvious answer."
Joe bit her lip in thought. There was something, wasn't there? The failed attempts of suicidal werewolves, the third in a set of three. First for energy, second for trickery, and third for deceit. "Seven years ago, there was a freak accident at the Beacon Hills Memorial. Birds flying into the windows, crashing into the walls and killing themselves."
Paling, Stiles turned to her. "Crows?"
"Mhm," Joe confirmed, keeping her eyes locked on the board. "What if that was the beginning? The Alpha Pack killed — or nearly killed — someone who used the energy of the murdered crows to survive?"
A last spark, like bloodied fingers desperately holding a cut artery shut. Refusing to let go until pried apart by a trauma surgeon.
"The Alphas slaughtered their own packs for power," Jimmy said slowly. "Two of them we know took place around seven years ago. What happened with the Emissaries?"
Joe shook her head. "Deucalion never killed his, but it doesn't have to be the Emissaries. All Emissaries are druids, but not all druids are Emissaries, right? There are others with druid-like powers who..."
She trailed off, thinking of the scared hiss Professor Kane had let out when Joe first asked about the Alpha Pack. Then later of the invisible force pushing her down in the chair. Looking up, she saw Jimmy raising his eyebrow at her — he must have thought the same thing. It didn't fit perfectly though; the professors had seemed surprised the first sacrifices were virgins.
"Can you ask your aunt to check the hospital records?" Stiles asked, oblivious to the shared glances, and Joe shrugged, not a hundred percent sure. He folded his arms, changed his mind only to fold them again a second later as he looked at the board. Stiles asked Jimmy: "How long until the fourth round?"
Jimmy sighed. "Can't be sure, but tomorrow or the day after probably."
"Well, guess we better get to work then." Stiles looked sick and Joe understood how he felt. She felt sick too.
Okay, but wouldn't you rather that he hates you than die?
As much as her first instinct was to go straight to Berkeley to confront Professor Kane, Jimmy insisted he would go to the college to do some reconnaissance first. Apparently, he had another lead he wanted to check up on first. Demanding they should both go only made him scoff and remind her of the promises she had made to Aunt Mel. Promises she should struggle to keep if she wanted Aunt Mel's favor in breaking hospital confidentiality laws to look up old records without a warrant.
"I must say, I was not expecting your call," Marin Morrell said with that Mona Lisa-smile she always had. When not working, she dressed slightly edgier in all black, but kept her hair pin-straight and immaculate. She leaned back against the comfortable armchair in the coffee shop and Joe felt like a specimen in a glass cage, ready for experiments.
"You're a licensed therapist, right?" Joe asked with a shrug. She had a decaf latte whatever with soy milk in front of her. No point in wasting oatmilk for decaf.
Marin nodded slowly at Joe's question. "But I am also Deucalion's Emissary. Have your allegiances shifted so much that you feel you can trust me?"
"Oh, I don't trust you an inch," Joe clarified, leaning forward on her knees. They were in the low armchairs by the windows, where Joe never really sat because she preferred to be more upright when working. "But there's nothing I'm gonna tell you that he doesn't already know anyway. And, by extent, that you don't know. Figured it'd save some time. Besides," she tried to watch Marin's face for minuscule clues, a lot like Derek's expressions, "being his Emissary doesn't mean being his friend. You said you're a guidance counselor first, right?
"I did," Marin said, smile widening a fraction. She had a soothing voice and Joe could guess it put her patients at ease. "Then druid, then Emissary." She tilted her head at Joe. "You've been to therapy before?"
"Yeah," said Joe and laughed at the thought of it. All those hours wasted talking about her mom. All those years wasted looking for her. "But he's got a four week waiting list, so here I am. Besides, this isn't about my daddy issues."
"Your insomnia?"
Joe nodded and inhaled deeply, staring out the window instead of looking at the acutely interested Marin. "I haven't slept a single full night in the last few months — until a few days ago when I shot Derek."
As expected, this did not seem like news to Marin. "Catharsis comes in many forms."
"It didn't feel cathartic," Joe admitted, almost glancing over her shoulder to confirm there weren't any known werewolves in the shop. "It felt wrong. Not shooting him, but seeing him hurt and... I hate not feeling his pain. Is that- is that an instinct I have or is it just my own issues?"
"You're asking if the mate-bond affects your judgment?" Finally, a crack in Marin's composure as she looked a bit more contemplative. "Or if it's a symptom of some deeper trauma, a wish to self-harm so to speak?"
"I swear to God if you say the words 'not an exact science' I'll-" Joe shook her head, unable to come up with a creative threat. She sighed and remembered a phrase she had used months ago, during a talk with Derek. "I don't know where my feelings begin and the mate-bond ends. I don't know what's instincts and what's compassion. I don't know what's me and what's not." Clutching her face, she shook her head again. "I don't know shit."
Marin regarded her in silence for a few seconds. Both their coffees remained untouched on the table. The coffee shop was an excuse to meet in public, as Joe would rather swallow burning coal than set foot in the high school as long as Miss Blake was there. At least she was there, as confirmed by Stiles and Scott, while Derek remained missing.
"The problem with insomnia," Marin said slowly after a while, "is that it's a reinforcing cycle, a vicious one that I'm sure you already know. Your insomnia stems from unresolved mental issues and the lack of sleep intensifies the feelings of those same issues. You're too anxious to sleep and the longer you stay up, the more anxious you become."
She really did have a soothing voice and Joe found herself leaning into it.
"If you want my professional opinion, sleeping better after shooting Derek," a flicker of a smile, "had less to do with Derek and more to do with yourself. From my perception of you, you are typically a proactive personality. You set goals and you go after them instead of sitting around waiting for things to happen to you."
A brief pause as she waited for Joe to nod.
"And starting with your captivity," now she averted her eyes to the side, a surprising sign of shame, "you lost your free will in a literal sense. No longer able to make your own decisions, you became more reactive than proactive. Forced into the role of an Alpha, your decisions now went beyond yourself. It is not easy being on top, it's not easy shouldering that responsibility and I suspect you felt more comfortable not actively planning ahead because that would mean possible mistakes without a chance to blame anything else but yourself."
Joe had no idea what to say, so she just nodded warily.
"Losing that sense of self can be detrimental to your mental health, Josefina. Making the decision to shoot Derek, although not strictly necessary, brought some of it back."
Unfortunately, it made sense. Out of the two of them, Jimmy was the one planning ahead and calling the shots. Joe just reacted, as Marin said. Responding to an initiative taken by someone else. After they escaped — or was let out, depending on point of view — she had been on the defensive. Cooped up in the apartment, always looking over her shoulder, waiting for the ball to drop. When she found Jimmy wounded, she could have just tended to him and burrowed down. Instead she had chosen offense. If you want to end the fight, fight back.
"Wow," Joe said and now took a sip of the lukewarm latte just to have something to do with her hands. "I'm really messed up."
This earned her an honest smile from Marin, who despite the indiscernible age, was a beautiful woman. Joe could appreciate a smile from that face. "There is one more thing," the smile fell slightly, but the warmth remained in her eyes, "and I asked you before, but do you remember all three months of when you were held captive?"
Most likely she already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from Joe. "No, I'm missing at least a few weeks, maybe a month."
Marin nodded slowly. "There is a power werewolves possess, mostly used by Alphas. By inserting their claws in the base of the neck, they can create a connection with that individual. Share, remove or even plant memories. This process does not come without risks, especially to the psychological welfare of the 'victim'."
"Deucalion took my memories?" Joe guessed, wondering how bad that month must have been based on what they actually let her remember. She was unable to stop her fingertips fluttering over her exposed neck.
To her surprise, Marin shook her head.
"There are two Alphas who have mastered this skill to the extreme," she said slowly, watching Joe carefully for a reaction, "both Deucalion and Kali." She waited a beat, but seemed to make up her mind about something and held eyecontact with Joe. "Insomnia is not unheard of as a side-effect of repeated exposure to these memory manipulations."
"It's only happened one time though," Joe pointed out. "I'm only missing one month."
Marin's face turned back to the nondescript smile, the one never quite reaching her eyes. "Is it possible you can have been more exposed than first assumed? Would you be able to remember if you were?"
"To be honest, I can't really remember it's ever happened." Joe rubbed her neck again. "It's like, a memory of a dream? Like deja vu." As Marin didn't respond, Joe inhaled deeply and dropped her hand down. "Can I ask you something? Why are you helping me?"
Something about Marin's coy smile made Joe remember vividly the last time she had been on a 'coffee date' with a pretty woman. It was different, she told herself. She knew not to trust Marin Morrell, she had been clueless about Kate's true nature. Still, she couldn't help the slight heat rising in her cheeks — Marin was a really beautiful woman.
"You know what druids dedicate their lives to?"
"Balance."
"Well done," Marin said and Joe swallowed at the praise. "Our methods may vary, but that will always be — or should always be — our endgoal. Helping you is one way I can help restore that balance."
"And the Darach?"
She lifted a delicate eyebrow. "Is part of the imbalance."
"Any chance you can just straight up tell me what to do?" Joe's face had already scrunched up in doubt, expecting Marin's widening smile.
"Unfortunately not. Despite what you might think, I don't have all the answers."
"Right," Joe said, not believing that for a second. "Can I ask one more thing? A more practical question... Mistletoe. That's what you used on me in that diner. Why didn't it work?" It was a question that had bugged her for some time. It was equally poisonous to humans as it were to werewolves, there was no reason it hadn't worked as intended on her.
"Why didn't the wolfsbane work on your friend?"
Joe sighed. "Straight answers just isn't part of your image, is it?"
Before she could expand on her exasperation, a familiar figure entered through the coffee shop's door. Out of habit, Joe had placed herself facing the only entrance, but her expression had to be revealing as Marin turned in her chair. They both watched Special Agent Rob Delgado rush inside, flanked by two other junior agents by the looks of them.
"If you want to leave," Marin kept her voice down as the FBI-agents hadn't noticed them yet, "I can distract them."
Her fingers had dug themselves into the chair arms, Joe realized, and she gently tried to relax them. Didn't need to be a werewolf to guess her emotional state. She drew in a sharp breath.
"No, it's okay," she said and either Dad hear her or he happened to glance up at that exact moment. Gray stubble on his cheeks, rumpled suit, and deeper set lines around his mouth than she remembered. Heart up in her throat, she gave her dad a tight smile, one that he interpreted as a go-ahead.
"Give me a sec, guys," he told his colleagues and stepped out of the line. He nodded at Marin, who gave a welcoming smile in return. "Miss Morrell. Joe."
"Special Agent," Marin said smoothly and rose from her chair, making vague excuses about being late for something and exiting the shop with a slight wave at Joe.
Joe didn't get up from her chair, but tried to smile. "Hey."
"Hey, kid," he said and patted her on the shoulder before perching on the seat of the armchair left vacant by Marin. "Sorry, didn't mean to disturb your, uh..." His gaze trailed in the direction of the door before he cleared his throat. "Uh, I only got five minutes, we got a press briefing in half an hour."
"It's fine." Except it wasn't fine, but not for the reasons her dad probably suspected. Stiles's visit and his concern about the Sheriff made her worry about her own dad too. The heavy lines under his eyes spelled out exhaustion. "You okay?"
Leaning forward on his knees, he seemed to automatically pull out a pack of cigarettes, but only held it in his hands, probably remembering it was no smoking inside here. "Not gonna lie, kid, it's a rough one." He put the pack away and glanced at her. "You look better than last time I saw ya. Mel, uh, told me you were going through some stuff."
Joe forced her heart back down — for a brief second, she thought Aunt Mel had told him everything. "Yeah. Uh...it's better." The situation hadn't improved, but at least she felt better. "You, uh, any closer to wrapping up the case?"
"We got a couple of leads," her dad said, but in that automatic dismissive tone she knew was ingrained in him to throw the media off his back. His brows pulled down into his face into a familiar frown, one she often saw in the mirror. "Listen, you know that offer to call me, any time of the day? That still stands you know. Even if I'm workin', I'll make time for ya."
"I'd rather you crack the case," Joe said, trying to keep her voice steady. Crack the case and get the hell out of town. Did the Alphas know he was here? Probably. As long as she played by their rules, they would leave him alone. At least she hoped so, but the longer he stayed, the more dangerous it became.
"Yeah, kid, me too." He sighed and blew air out of his mouth as he checked his watch. "Shit. I gotta go." Already up from his chair, he seemed to remember something and turned around with a hand over his face, rubbing tired eyes. "That reminds me, those case-files we talked about last time? I got them back at the station. Just so you know I didn't forget. We can, uh, take a look at them when this is over, okay?"
A chill spread through Joe's chest and the latte was too cold to combat it. Nodding wordlessly, she watched her dad rejoin his colleagues, already in work-mode before he was out of the coffee shop. The case files on her mother's first murder. That sounded like a pleasant read.
You can force him. You're his Alpha.
So it turned out her and Jimmy's apartment had turned into some sort of homing beacon lately. At the sight of the skulking figure waiting outside the laundromat, Joe muttered under her breath: "Oh por Dios, no, no puedo con esto ahora."
"It's been almost three days," Cora spat and she looked like she had slept a combined eight hours during those three days. She glanced down at Joe's body, eyes glittering with contempt. "Can you feel him?"
"No," Joe said and unlocked the doors into the apartment building. Cora, of course, followed her inside.
Cora's voice echoed in the empty hallway. "Can you try?"
"What for?" Joe asked and bent down to pick up a package addressed to her. She frowned. Had she ordered something during her late-night hallucination sessions? Cora let out a frustrated growl and kept following Joe up the stairs. "He's not dead."
"How do you know Kali doesn't already have him?"
"Because she gave him to the next full moon," Joe answered easily and paused outside the locked apartment door. It was cleaned pretty thoroughly with bleach, but she worried Cora might still be able to detect the scent of Erica in there. "She's a stickler for punctuality."
"You shot him!"
Joe rolled her eyes, but tried to keep her voice to a more reasonable level. Other people lived in the building — at least she thought so, no one had called the cops when she fought Jimmy that same night she shot Derek. "Because he hurt Jimmy!"
"Because," Cora's light brown eyes bugged, "you howled. I heard it, Joe. A howl like that? So much pain and sorrow? I thought you were dying." She kept her eyes on Joe for a few seconds before she snorted. "You don't get it. You still don't get it. A pack howl is more than just a noise, Joe. It's feelings, raw emotions, intense! When someone in your pack howls like that, you don't hesitate. You don't stop and think 'what if'. You react."
"That's fine," Joe said, patience wearing thin, "but slashing open Jimmy's stomach is not."
"Are you sure he wasn't the one starting the fight? I still don't get why you trust that guy," Cora scoffed and folded her arms, again so incredibly like her brother. "Didn't he try to blow your head off once?"
"Peter tell you about that?"
"Yeah, so? He was also working with the Alphas-"
"As a double agent, to gain their trust for long enough so we could escape."
"Escape?" Cora repeated and tilted her head. "Is that what this feels like to you? Like we got away? Because I don't feel like that. I feel like I'm stuck, trapped even more now than when we were in that vault. I know you don't like it, Joe, but you're my Alpha. And so is Derek. If you're not willing to step up to the plate, at least help me find him. Me and Boyd, we need at least one of you."
Joe hated this. Hated it hated it hated it. She sighed and leaned against the mountain ash-infused door. "Cora, I don't know how..."
"No, you do," Cora insisted, turning on her heel to leave. "How we got into this mess in the first place."
It took a few seconds for this to process. "I can't- I can't really do it on command."
"Then figure it out!" With that, the youngest Hale disappeared around the corner, only the echo of her footsteps in the stairs lingering.
Stomach churning and head still fuzzy after the talk with Marin and her dad, Joe locked herself into the apartment. Empty. As much as she did not like Jimmy being out on his own, he had made a valid point the other night. Was he or wasn't he her beta? Without the extra senses, Joe had no way of telling.
Glaring at the coffee machine, knowing she couldn't indulge, Joe tried to distract herself by opening the package delivered. The soft fabric fell out and Joe stared at it in puzzlement. It looked expensive. Not that it mattered — Professor Walker had made sure she got a paycheck during all those months she was away and for some reason, she did not have any expenses during that time either. Amazing how budget-friendly living in captivity was.
When she unwrapped the fabric bundle, she realized what it was. A dress. A teal maxi dress with thin straps and a woven belt around the waist. It complimented Joe's skin tone perfectly and Joe realized it was for the wedding. Alex and Maddy's stupid farmhouse fall wedding. Erica must have ordered it for some godforsaken sentimental reason.
Erica. Erica was alive. She knew that, but just thinking about her made something inside of Joe tighten. She really did not like not knowing where she was. Maybe, since Jimmy was still out, he had gone to check on her. And even with the bad feeling the name brought up, it was easier to think of Erica than that stupid wedding. She couldn't even take Jimmy with her until he resolved the situation with Kelly, who was still not too keen on talking to him.
Maybe she could guilt-trip Marin to accompany her since it was her fault Alex and Maddy even thought she was going? If Joe and Marin were still alive in October that is.
Time to face the music, Delgado. It wasn't the wedding that was hard to think about, it was the date she was supposed to have. Derek frickin' Hale. Mentally groaning, she glared at the spot on the living room floor she had laid when it happened. She shuddered at the memory.
"Personal is not the same as important," she mumbled to herself and tried to think. Proactive, not reactive. And Cora had a point. "Goddamnit."
Pacing the apartment, she listed her options. If he'd masked his scent, none of the werewolves could help her. He'd evaded the Argents for months, so enlisting Chris to her cause wouldn't do her any good either — besides, he was one modified marksman rifle in deficit and had probably figured out who the thief was. Was a howl really the only way? Ugh.
Emotions. She had to feel something. She had to make herself feel something...
After some thinking, she found the jacket in the back of the closet, stuffed there when she was packing for the initial trip to Sacramento and the rest of NorCal. On her knees, she steeled herself. It had been months, would it still-
It smelled like him. Tears sprang immediately even though she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop them. It smelled very much like him; like he was supposed to smell. The collar, not surprisingly, held the most scent and she stuffed her nose into it. God, she missed him. She had missed him for so long and she still missed him and it was not fair. It was not fair at all, for either of them.
Having made up her mind, she shrugged the jacket on over her leggings and t-shirt. She couldn't do it here, so she put on sneakers as well and locked up the apartment behind her. At least the nighttime run would help clear her mind and she ran easily through the streets, heading for the edge of the Preserve. It was as much to avoid another altercation between Derek and anyone else as much for herself.
Because when she entered the forest, confident she was alone, she began having second thoughts. More specifically, she recalled Scott's first attempt of a howl. That time at the school, that time Joe first felt Derek's pain, Scott had used the school's PA-system to try and lure out the Alpha. His first attempt had been that sound of a rabbit in a bear trap she and Jimmy heard. If she howled now and sounded like that, Cora and Boyd would find themselves completely Alpha-less as Joe would promptly kill herself.
"Derek?" she called out in the forest after stopping in a slight clearing. "Derek?"
Nothing. Oh well, it was worth a shot.
Okay, she could do this. Just focus on that hurt and anger and love and whatever Kali had said to her. Joe shrugged her shoulders in place, trying to make them drop to a normal level instead of crawling up to her ears.
The dark forest was quiet as always and leaves had begun to litter the ground again, going deeper into fall. She'd missed the whole summer, her favorite season, when you could lie around in the sun all day without any other excuses than just being too hot to function.
So, that talk with Aunt Mel been really bad timing because she could not focus on that pain she needed to make the sound necessary. Joe closed her eyes, trying to imagine Kali in front of her, shouting all those things that made her so angry and hurt, but now she just felt sad. Hollow. Instead of Kali, she saw Derek. Saw the relief on his face when she first came into the loft and how it shifted into confusion and then shock. Betrayal.
Muttering under her breath, Joe took off the jacket and held it to her nose. Did it make her calmer or more hurt? She'd slept too good the last few nights as well, no sleep-deprived intense emotions to pull upon. Hell, she hadn't even seen Hallucinate-Kate since before she shot Derek.
On the odd chance that Derek's smell was working as a calming agent, she threw it to the side so it landed in a pile of leaves. The thought made her smile at the memory of her and Derek waking up in a pile of leaves after he lost control at the ice rink. That had been when he bit Boyd. Wow, a different life. Derek had been so warm and gentle when they laid there, with his breath in her hair and the sound of his snores almost lulling her back to sleep. His instincts were always to protect her — claim her, sure, but first of all protect her.
"Okay, come on," Joe whispered to herself, closing her eyes again and trying to concentrate. Hurt. Pain Anger. Sorrow. Come on, focus, Delgado. She pulled in a deep breath.
And let it out again slowly without a sound. She couldn't. Couldn't do it.
It was like Cora said, it was raw emotions and she did not have an abundance of the right ones at the moment. Shooting Derek, then the reality check with Jimmy, talking with Aunt Mel and Scott, therapy — it was hard to muster up that level of anguish necessary to do this. What about the sex-thing? That still made her angry, at least, because while Derek may claim to not be a jealous person, Joe definitely was.
That pretty brunette in a pencil skirt, who happened to be an English teacher... Of course, she was an English teacher, she was perfect for Derek with all his weird literary interests. Guy read books in genres Joe did not even know existed.
Derek would definitely have been an English Lit major if he ever went to college.
Fooooocuuuuus. Come on! She had to find the stupid guy so he could go Alpha around Cora and Boyd and she could get on with her life. Be angry, Delgado. Hurt. Okay, this was it. She was definitely doing this now. Deep breath. Even deeper. Eyes closed, she opened her mouth and-
"What are you doing?"
"Oh thank God." Joe let out all the air in her lungs and slumped forwards. She never thought she would miss his angry voice coming out of the darkness like that. "You have no idea how good your timing is."
Turning around, she ran a hand through her hair that was not tied up for once. As expected, Derek Hale stood immobile a good twenty feet away with his arms crossed and a hard line to his mouth. His arms barely concealed the large hole in his long-sleeved t-shirt and even in the dark, she could see the dried blood that had spread around the opening.
"Were you trying to howl?" Derek asked, sounding thoroughly unimpressed, and Joe realized the darkness was not going to be enough to cover up her blush.
"'Trying' is probably an excessively strong word," she muttered and tucked wayward curls behind her ears. The distance and the fresh air masked his scent, making it bearable to look at him. "How could you tell?"
"You kept gasping in air, like a lot of young wolves who have no idea what they're doing."
His answer revealed he had watched her for a while, but she tried to let that slide. "Uh, okay, you have to come back. Cora and Boyd need you."
"Do they."
Somehow he said that without making it sound like a question. Joe hugged herself, feeling the chill of the night air now that her sweat from the run cooled on her skin. His jacket lay discarded a few steps away, but she could not stomach another raised eyebrow from him if she went to put it on.
"Are you," she pursed her lips, feeling so stupid, "okay?"
"Really, you're asking me that?"
"I kinda have to, I don't have your nose. So, are you okay?"
"Are you asking because you feel like you have to or because you care?" he asked, voice so flat it did not even sound like him. At her stunned silence, he scoffed. "Took me a day and a half to heal." So gunshot wounds from Alphas counted as regular wounds from an Alpha. Nice to know. "How's Carter?"
"Are you asking because you feel lik-" she faltered at repeating his words, squirming under his intense gaze. "He's fine. Healed." Ah, that was the memory she should have focused on just now. Jimmy, bleeding out on the bathroom floor. It brought back some of her fire. "Why did you do that?"
"Because I thought he had hurt you."
"So?"
"What?"
"How's that any of your business?" Joe tilted her head and recognized the small signs, how Derek's jaw tightened and his biceps flexed under his shirt. Anger, but not directed at her. "Derek, you," she cleared her throat to find her voice, "can't have it both ways. Even if I was hurt, that's not your problem."
In the dark, she could see the slight reflection of the starlight in his eyes. They were slightly wider than usual, staring at her. "Then why did you howl?"
"Because I was in a really bad place emotionally," she said with a scoff, releasing her self-hug to lean on one hip. "Because it had been a busy few days and I had probably slept a combined three hours during that time and it got a little intense, ya know?
Derek's nostrils flared as he took a few hard breaths, chest expanding with each inhale. "Remember that time in the hospital? The time you told me you didn't exclusively like girls-"
"That was not the focal point of that talk."
"-and you promised you'd call me if you needed help. You said you'd howl if you needed me."
"I was joking!" Joe yelled with her mouth near hanging open. "I'd never- I didn't know I could- it was a joke! You nearly killed Jimmy because of something I said just to rile you up almost half a year ago? Oh my God, Derek!" Too vexed to stand still, she paced a bit around in the few fallen leaves. "Are you serious? I howl, Jimmy runs his mouth and you lose it?"
"He threw the first punch!"
"Then you could have punched him back, not try to dig out his lungs with your claws!" Joe spat at him, even if she mentally chastised Jimmy for not disclosing that detail. "Jesus, Derek, I saw enough of his ribcage at the hospital, I didn't need to see it again." No answer, so Joe just kept going. "And he was under the influence of the half-moon, what's your excuse? Derek, I've seen you fight. Unless Jim shapeshifted completely, you would have been able to subdue him without trying to kill him."
Chastised, Derek slumped back into the shadows, but she could still see him avert his gaze. "I know. I wasn't thinking and I... couldn't find you."
"Yeah, no shit, I was pumped full of mountain ash at the time."
His eyes snapped to her again, but more despair than anger in his eyes. Like he knew without asking, but had a tiny hope he didn't. "Why?"
"You know why," Joe huffed and tried to focus on the anger — because this next part was going to hurt. Ignoring his nondescript expression — something akin to sadness if she was apt to interpret it that way — she steeled herself. "We're gonna have to come up with a better solution than that, by the way. I don't think mountain ash is healthy for me."
For some reason, Derek had closed his eyes. His face half-turned away from her, it was impossible to make out any discernable expression. Eventually, he swallowed and sounded slightly gruff. "Right. What," he cleared his throat, "are you? You still smell," another unnaturally long pause, "human."
Joe shrugged. "I don't know. Most likely, according to you, I'm not supposed to exist." She waited for him to say anything, or even look at her, but he did neither. "There's no such thing as a half-werewolf, remember? Yet here I am."
Nodding, Derek swallowed heavily again before speaking. "Your mom."
"Yeah. The Alphas think Dad did something when Mom was pregnant with me, but I haven't really had the balls to ask him outright. Maybe he was shooting mountain ash during conception, I don't know. Doesn't matter. I would've probably never known if it hadn't been for you."
Heart pounding in her chest, even more so because she knew he heard it, she didn't pay attention to him as she went to pick up his jacket.
"Uh..." Her turn to clear her throat. "Listen, I- I've figured out what I want."
"Joe," he cut her off, sounding hoarse, "I never... I never wanted you to feel that, I nev-"
"Just," Joe held her hands up to stop him, "please, let me say this when I still can." She sucked in a large breath, let it out slowly, and nodded to herself. Her voice still sounded tight when she managed to speak. "I want you to be happy. And," she blinked away tears, trying to will them gone, "that's all I want, so-"
The forest remained deathly quiet so she could hear how Derek had almost stopped breathing.
"-it doesn't matter how you're happy or," she looked down at the jacket and saying this was harder than pulling the trigger had been, "who with."
Derek's voice came as a whisper from the shadows. "You don't mean that."
Sometimes she hated both her heartbeat and pulse and chemosignals and his heightened senses that could tell when she was lying.
"Maybe not," she admitted, unable to look at him. "Not right now, but that's part of the process and I'll mean it eventually." She hoped at least, but the alternative was too hard to think about. "So, uh, please allow me the dignity of saying what I'll mean sometime in the future when I'm..." over you. "I've said the whole time that you deserve a choice and I mean that. I do. I really do."
Sniffing, she wiped her eyes hastily. Her stomach churned and every part of her body ached so she did not even have the capacity of hating her own weakness or tears.
"And you don't owe me an explanation or anything because we've known each other for, what, eight months, and I was gone three of them and we never had The Talk-"
Her mouth went on auto-pilot while her heart held together by pure willpower.
"-so it's not fair for any of us and, uh, there's some practical stuff we gotta work out too. Joint custody over Cora as an example, even though I've tried really hard to push her away, but if shooting you isn't enough, I don't know what would be and-"
She kept babbling nonsense, not even hearing her own voice over the roaring pulse in her ears. She doubted Derek could hear anything either — not judging by his hard-set jaw and dark glittering eyes.
"-and the Alphas still expect us to fight on the full moon, but we'll figure something out. I'll leave town if I have to. Basically, what I'm saying is that you can come back to Beacon Hills and I won't shoot you again or," her throat hurt from the large lump, "be in your way."
There was a sharp intake of breath from him, but when she managed to look at him, he was just staring out into thin air.
Almost holding her breath, she took a few tentative steps forward and extended his jacket to him. Derek had dropped his arms to his side, exposing the large hole in his shirt that revealed his strong muscles underneath.
Something glittered on his face in the faint moonlight, but it was hard to make out as he shook his head. It almost looked like tears, but that did not make sense. "Keep it."
"I don't really want it," Joe said, fighting so hard to just remain standing there, to not inhale his scent, to try and just hold on a little while longer so she could run back to the safety of the apartment. "Please."
Nostrils flared, jaw-muscles working, Derek weakly accepted the jacket. He had his phone in one hand, she noticed, but didn't comment. It at least meant he had stayed hidden in the forest on purpose and could have contacted Boyd or Cora whenever he felt like it. The thought of them made it easier to push through.
"So, you know, stop brooding and feeling sorry for yourself or whatever you're doing and go be useful." She tried to smile bravely. "I just shot you, it's not like anyone died."
Not looking back, actually making a big deal out of not looking back, Joe headed for the direction of the main road. She made it maybe ten steps before she heard him make a harsh sound and what sounded like splintered wood.
By the time she turned around, he was gone.
Did someone order an extra dose of heartbreak tonight?
I promise, Joe and Derek are going to have a real Talk eventually. And we're gonna find out what really happened that night, because what we know so far just isn't adding up.
I'll repeat that this story has a happy ending and we're getting there. The Darach is down to her last six victims, so the season finale is getting close and we have maybe 10-12 chapters left. Once again, I'll ask you to have some patience.
Hope you have a nice Friday wherever you are 😊 I have a new keyboard, so if I'm missing any letters, that's just human error.
Big thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I know it was a slow one, but it was too important to leave out.
Thank you for reading as always and please let me know what you think! The more reviews I get, the more fluff you earn for the aftermath (jk, there's plenty of fluff anyway ❤)
And thank you to TenebrisSagittarius for the Spanish. Translation: "Oh my god, no, I can't handle this now."