Chapter 80: The Returned III

I don't trust her.

There were hugs.

Either the howl had been cathartic or Joe's mind was so far gone she had landed back in apathy, but she nevertheless hugged Erica when she got up from the floor. Even if she wasn't real, it didn't matter. It felt real, and that's all that mattered for now.

"Hi," Joe whispered into Erica's mass of hair, clinging to the girl like a lifeline. Behind her, Joe could see Stiles stretching out his jaw, obviously feeling the aftermath of the intense sound. He grimaced and rubbed a finger in his ear.

"Hi," Erica whispered back and sniffed. Joe suspected she tried to cover up for some emotions when she said: "You stink."

"I know."

As they untangled, Erica gave Joe an encouraging smile. She turned to Derek, still smiling, and held out her arms slightly.

"What? No hug?" she asked and that was apparently the permission Derek had waited for.

Good thing Erica was a werewolf, Joe thought, as Derek practically crushed her into a solid bearhug. She knew how it felt, sort of. The intense relief when being reunited as it was the same one Joe had felt when the Alphas first kidnapped her. It was probably worse for Derek though, him being a full werewolf.

Seeing Stiles looking a little left out, Joe went over to hug him too. To be fair, he looked like he needed it and by the way he clung to her, she was probably right.

So yes, there were hugs. They helped, even if nothing became more fixed. Cora was still sick. Jimmy still gone. Aunt Mel and the Sheriff still taken.

"I can't believe you've been with Stiles this whole time," Joe mumbled when Derek had finally let go of Erica. "Or that you," she made a face at Stiles, "managed to keep that secret."

"What?" Stiles blinked and used his arms to demonstrate in the direction of the stairwell. "She hasn't- no, she just showed up while I was looking for you guys."

Joe gave Erica a confused stare. "Then where...?"

"Okay, so you're probably not gonna like this," Erica began carefully in a voice that Joe knew meant she would positively hate this, "but Plan B was for Berkeley."

It took a few seconds for this to get through the fog in Joe's brain.

"Are you kidding me?" Joe snapped and her voice echoed again in the garage. "Are you actually- what? Just what? Jimmy sent you to bunk with my evil professors? Who we can't trust? Who are evil? What? How? What does he even have on them?"

"Technically," Erica was not deterred and raised a cocky eyebrow, "it was only one of your professors. The werewolf one."

Derek's head snapped up, but it was Stiles who spoke: "You have a werewolf professor?"

"Shush. So you stayed with Walker? The very woman who set me up in the first place? Who used to be part of Kali's pack? Wait, what do you mean you only stayed with Walker, where was Kane? You know, the ex-druid she's married to?"

"Ex-druid?"

"Your professors are married, like, to each other?"

"Shut up, Stiles. Yes, they," Erica made a face trying to come up with a phrasing, "had a falling out, I think. Sarah didn't want to talk about it. Kane, or uh, Bridget had already left before I got there."

Joe stared at Erica for a while. It was too wild for even her own imagination, giving some leverage to the fact that this might actually be real. "Is that why you're wearing cashmere?"

"Yeah," Erica perked up and ran her hands over the knitted sweater that was very much not her style. "It's Sarah's. Feel it, it's like super soft."

"Okay, guys, we do not have time for this!" Stiles finally shouted, arms waving and chest heaving after the brief interlude. "Cops are gonna be here any second. Isaac's outside with Cora, Scott's gone with Deucalion, Peter's probably vanished to, you know, somewhere so we got to move!"

Joe looked at Derek just as he looked at her. His face had healed from their previous altercation.

"What do you want to do?"

Part of her wanted to laugh that he found it appropriate to start listening to her now when she was so unhinged it wasn't even funny. She ran her palms over the ridges of her frizzy braids and tried to think. "I'll stay here and deflect the cops. I gotta warn Dad, too, about Julia or Jennifer or whatever."

He nodded. "I'll go with Cora." If he caught something on her scent or her face was hard to tell, but he still asked: "What?"

Joe sighed and turned to Erica. "I hate asking, but we need more help. Can you get Sarah and tell her to work out whatever marital discourse she's having with Kane?" She gave Derek and apologetic look while Erica only nodded. "We could use a druid for this. I'm guessing Jennifer didn't exactly stop and heal Cora before she took off."

"I'll go with you," Stiles told Erica, but she shook her head.

"Uh, no, you go with Joe. Miss Hallucinating should not be left to her own devices. Trust me."

"That is a mildly terrifying statement," Stiles admitted with a tight mouth. "Just out of curiosity, what stage are we at now? How bad is it gonna get?"

"Stage four," Erica said without hesitation. "She's never actually reached stage five. She's always crashed before that."

"Crashed? Is Joe secretly a murder-robot or something?"

"Not that I know, but she's always run herself into the ground before reaching stage five. Oh, and by the way, she'll most likely forget I'm alive when I leave."

"How does that work? Does she have some kind of mental block or-"

"Don't," Derek said quietly and looked at Joe with worry in his eyes, "talk about her like she's not here." He took a step closer to Joe, again filling her brain with his scent. If possible, he dropped his voice lower. "Are you gonna be okay?"

Probably not, she wanted to say, because she could not even breathe if she allowed herself to think about everything that was wrong. Instead, she could only whisper: "I'm not the main priority right now." Sighing, with the word function going on repeat inside her mind, she reached back for the gun. "You gotta take this. I don't want it to get bagged as evidence."

To her dazed amusement, Derek's lip lifted when he accepted the piece of metal. He held it semi-correctly, but almost overcompensating with how far any of his fingers were from the trigger. He must have caught her expression as he muttered: "I don't like guns."

Joe grabbed the pistol back and ejected both the clip and chambered bullet in a fluid motion. She aimed at the far end of the garage and pulled the trigger, satisfied with the dry click. Handing it back to Derek, she shrugged. "There. Now it's only dangerous as a blunt-force weapon."

Still looking uncomfortable, he nodded and put the clip in his pocket and the gun in the waistband of his jeans. He sighed, still standing close to Joe. "Do you trust me now?"

"You guys, we really don't have- ow!"

"Shh! Let them have a moment."

Joe gave Derek a sad smile. "I don't think I trust anyone."

There was so much to be said, so little time. Derek nodded nevertheless and bore his eyes into her. "Trust me with Cora?"

Cora. Aunt Mel. Sheriff Stilinski. The Darach had a lot to answer for, which didn't even matter when they had literally let her escape. Joe closed her eyes, maybe a little too long, but nodded when she opened them again. "Yeah," her voice sounded hoarse, "I trust you with Cora."

I don't trust him.

"That stuff you said about the lunar eclipse," Stiles began and he glared at his bouncing knee as if that would make it stop, "that she won't touch the guardian-sacrifices before that." His voice was not his own, a flat replicate. "Is that true?"

They sat next to each other in the otherwise empty hospital corridor. It looked like the storm last night — was it last night or this night if it was three or four in the morning? — had swept through here as well and it might have, judging by a branch jutting through a window. By the main entrance down the hall, several unfamiliar FBI-agents were huddled with flashlights and they seemed to be discussing where to move forwards after trawling the empty hospital, not finding any other witnesses than Joe and Stiles. Joe recognized the look — they were waiting for a superior agent, someone to give the orders.

Joe put her hand onto Stiles' where it laid on the armrest.

"Right now, I'm begging it's true," she said earnestly and squeezed his hand. It seemed like hours ago since she agreed Derek would take Cora back to the loft. Joe's eyes were so heavy she blinked excessively to keep them open. "I'm so sorry I talked that way about your dad."

"It's okay, it's-"

"No, Stiles, it's not," Joe said and looked over at him, skin drawn taut over his cheekbones. The words had come easy last night when she was angry and 'in control'. They had come easy when it was about the Sheriff. They came harder when it was about her Aunt, revealing her hypocrisy plainly. "I was upset last night and-"

His eyes were wide as he nodded into thin air. "You were furious."

"And I said stupid things. But everything points to the lunar eclipse being her end goal. Four plus one. Guardians are the one, the center." Joe leaned her head back as the chatter from outside came closer, steeling herself for facing her dad. "Besides, she needs one more."

"Yeah," Stiles agreed and made a small noise, at least reminiscent of a snort. "Any chance she'll take your mom too?"

Closing her eyes, Joe laughed as well. "She doesn't know, by the way."

"Who, Jennifer? Because I think you told her pretty clearly."

"No, Kali," Joe clarified and blinked her eyes open, staring at her own naked toes on the cluttered floor. "I mean, she probably knows, but she doesn't know that I know. At least I don't think she knows that I know. Doesn't matter."

"That was a lot of know's," Stiles whispered and Joe nodded in agreement. He shifted in his chair. "But she trained you, right? And, uh..."

He'd gestured to her arm and she shrugged. "Pained the wolf out, so to speak. Like what Derek did when he forced the venom out of-" Joe's breath failed her at the thought of that name.

"Erica," Stiles prompted slowly and clicked his tongue. "Who is alive."

"What?"

He sighed. "Nevermind."

"Uh," Joe furrowed her brows a bit before remembering her place, "anyway, yeah. Forcing the body to heal itself. So I got the strength and the healing and the eyes and, uh, lungs apparently, but that's it."

"No razor-sharp toenails?"

"No claws," Joe confirmed and wiggled her human toes again. "No teeth. No hearing, no sense of smell, no walking lie-detector abilities."

Stiles was a lot like Joe in many ways. Even in the direst of situations, he was always curious to know more. People like Stiles and Joe wanted to know how the world worked, what made it tick, just for the sake of knowledge. "How come you're an Alpha? Did you take it like Derek?"

"No, Derek took it for us," Joe said and her stomach jolted at the word. Us. She was glad it was Stiles sitting here and not a werewolf. "As mates, our status follows each other apparently. Don't ask me how it works because it seems no one can give me the rules of the whole mate-thing properly."

There was a small pause as Stiles cleared his throat, a sign she came to know he was going to ask an uncomfortable question. They really were too alike. "And you and Derek are now...?"

There was no easy answer to that question. Part of her wanted to believe, part of her had doubts. One thing that struck her was that the second Jennifer had left — using Joe's lack of self-restraint as a convenient cover — Derek had calmed down, resisted his wolf-side's urge to fight even. And so had Joe, almost physically collapsing. Could be either a coincidence or wishful thinking. Or it could be real.

Funny how you sometimes never notice a noise until it stops.

Joe had thought she could never hate anyone more than Kate Argent, but Julia Baccari AKA Jennifer Blake was proving her wrong. It went both ways too, based on what Joe could tell. Her gaydar wasn't fully operational, but there was nothing about Kali that suggested she swung both ways. Unrequited love was a bitch.

"I won't shoot him again."

"Good," Stiles said, his voice ending on a high note. "Good. That's good. Progress." More shuffling in his chair and she tried to ignore it when he turned to face her. His mouth moved, but no words came out and she wondered how bad this question was going to be. "So, uh, Lydia told me about some translation she did for you, from the bestiary and it mentioned that, uh, mates not only feel each other's pain, they also feel each other's," some complicated hand gestures and Joe paled, "uhm. Is that, you know, true?"

Worse than she could imagine, apparently. Too tired to blush, she just stared into thin air.

"I am not having that discussion with you."

"Hey, you asked me if I was a, you know, so I think it's only fair that-"

"Thank God," she whispered when movement down by the doors saved her from Stiles's rambling.

She and Stiles both turned their heads, but it wasn't her dad coming through in an ill-fitting suit. It was Scott's dad and she only barely heard Stiles' irritated muttering of: "Perfect."

"Uncle Raf?" Joe asked in genuine shock. He must have rushed over as he pulled the FBI-badge over his neck while making his way to them. Special Agent Rafael McCall was a tall man with olive skin and dark hair like Scott, but with sharper eyes than his son. Sharp eyes now focused on Joe and Stiles. Joe rose from the chair automatically. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, kiddo," he said and slapped her on the shoulder. His eyebrows rose at her attire. "Nice outfit. Working part-time at Hooters, Josie?"

"Yeah, your mom got fired so it was an opening," Joe snapped back immediately, but didn't put much heart in it. It earned her a low laugh anyway and he shrugged out of his suit jacket to hand it over to her. She put it on, even though the sleeves reached down to her knees. Uncle Raf was a very tall man. "Seriously, what are you doing here? Where's Dad?"

Uncle Raf shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. "Town needed someone who knew what they were doing. Think you two can answer some questions without the usual level of sarcasm?"

"Cut the crap, Raf," Joe said, jutting in on whatever Stiles had been about to reply. Her pulse rose to a roar in her ears. "Where's Dad?"

"Relax, kiddo, he called and asked if I could handle the hospital. Still held up with the prime suspect of the murders." Uncle Raf focused his attention on Stiles. "I'm more interested in your dad, Stiles. How come no one's heard from him since last night?" He leaned in. "Is he drinking again?"

"Call him." Joe stepped between him and Stiles. "Please, Uncle Raf, just call Dad."

"Hey, hey, easy, kiddo," he said and held his hands up to make her back off a little. "I just did. He's not answering his phone, he's probably still conducting the interrogation."

Three. Jennifer needed three. Who's to say two of them couldn't be a Delgado?

"When," her voice was so hard she did not recognize it, "was the last time you talked to him? Or anyone talked to him?"

Uncle Raf regarded her for half a second. "You look like shit, Josie. You stopped sleeping again?" When she did not answer immediately, he tilted his head. "Right. That was a rhetorical question, but probably shouldn't have been. Answer me, when was the last time you slept?"

"Two or three days ago, so if you don't answer my question, this is gonna get uncomfortable for all of us."

"Yeah, yeah, don't get your panties in a bunch," he said and picked up his notebook, flipping through it. "Last time I talked to him he was accompanying a prisoner transport."

"What time?"

"That's not exactl-"

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Joe snapped and it took everything she had not to physically assault the guy. Unlike Scott, Joe actually had an okay relationship with Rafael. That did not mean she did not find him equally as infuriating at times. "What time, Uncle Raf? You know me, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

"Swear again and see what happens," Uncle Raf said in a stern voice, glaring down at her. "Come on. Try me." His eyes softened when he noticed her trembling. With a sigh, he relented a bit and his shoulders slumped. "Says here it was nine pm last night. You wanna know the name of the prisoner too?"

The question was sarcastic, but Joe already knew. "James Carter. He's my roommate."

"He's your what?"

"My roommate."

"Oh, your roommate, huh? Yeah, I've heard that one before. You sure know how to pick 'em, kid."

Uncle Raf didn't look impressed but he hadn't noticed how she had deflated when he said the time. At nine, they had still been at the hospital, all of them. This did not mean things were looking up, but it did probably mean that Jennifer hadn't taken him. Probably. It also meant Jimmy had not been released despite the 'timeline not adding' up as her dad had said regarding Mr. Westover. Problem was Jimmy still looked good for the murder of Tara Graeme and the police tended to get a little carried away when it came to alleged cop-killers.

"How about the two of you just tell me exactly what happened here?"

"I don't know what happened here," Stiles said irritably, leaning forwards on his knees. "We were stuck in the elevators the whole time."

"Power went out," Joe supplied, really not very helpful at all. She needed to talk to Jimmy or her dad. Preferably both.

"I noticed. Who the hell takes an elevator in a storm?" Uncle Raf asked drily and checked his notes again. He addressed both of them. "You're not the one who put the name on the doors, are you?"

She and Stiles asked the same question: "What name?

The notebook disappeared from sight and Uncle Raf sighed as he led them down the hall to the elevator on the first floor. Someone had spraypainted a name in large blocky letters: ARGENT.

Sheriff Stilinski, Aunt Mel and now Chris Argent? It could not be a coincidence that she would target the parents most involved in the supernatural business in town, albeit Sheriff Stilinski quite unknowingly. All connected. Everything was connected.

"No, we didn't write that," Joe mumbled as she stared at the red letters. Had it been Jennifer?

Uncle Raf took them back towards the main entrance where they'd be taken care of by agents specifically trained to debrief witnesses and assess if they needed further assistance. He put his hand on her shoulder still covered in his oversized jacket.

"Kid," he began and glanced down, "is there a reason you're not wearing shoes?"

"Uh, it's actually to feel the vibrations of movement through the soles of my feet," Joe answered honestly, only because she knew he'd think she was lying. She saw Stiles make a face as if he hadn't considered that. "For when I'm practicing martial arts."

Uncle Raf's upper lip pulled to the side in both disbelief and revulsion. "Yeah. That's not sanitary."

"I know."

"It's actually disgusting. Go sit down over there, I'll go find you some shoes," he ordered her and gestured to a bench outside the main entrance.

A female agent came over with a blanket for her and Stiles and then another agent took Stiles to the side. He would probably lie through his teeth to make them let him go sooner rather than later. Stiles saw every loophole possible and exploited them as he saw fit. A lot like Jimmy. A lot like her. They were all reflections of each other in one way or another.

The female agent asked her the general questions of how she felt, physically and mentally and Joe clasped her hands together to make the shaking less obvious. She needed sleep, but had no idea how she would achieve that. Not when Cora was out there somewhere, dying and gasping for breath.

Like Erica had been, struggling to breathe with the branch in her stomach keeping her from healing.

"These yours?" Uncle Raf asked and snapped Joe out of her bubble. He carried both her shoes and jacket, although the latter technically belonged to her dad. She nodded and reached out, but he sighed and put them to the side. He sat down next to her on the bench, leaning forward on his knees much like Stiles had earlier.

"Josie, the dead EMT downstairs," he began and she just felt numb, not in the mood for bothering about the name right now. Jennifer's comment from before or earlier or yesterday had stung more than intended. Identity. It was a tricky question. Part of her wished she didn't know her heritage. "You gotta tell me if you saw anything and I mean anything at all."

The dead EMT. The only victim who was just unlucky by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Kali's victim. Kali's careless killing. Things had made sense when Joe went to their penthouse. It had made sense when she left the penthouse as well. It had made sense up until she saw the dead EMT, hadn't it? And even then, she'd suppressed it in favor of the chase — when Derek ran, she could not have stopped herself from following even if she tried.

And now Deucalion had Scott, Jennifer had Aunt Mel. Ten steps ahead. Always ten steps ahead.

"Hey. Hey, kid, hey!"

A snapping sound brought her back and she realized Uncle Raf had been snapping his fingers in front of her face. Microsleeps. They became more frequent in stage four. Maybe thirty seconds at a time, up to a minute.

"Umm," she blinked to clear the fog in her brain, "no. No, I didn't see anything. Like Stiles said, we were stuck in the elevator the whole time. Did you call my Dad?"

"Still not answering." He kept quiet for a bit, shrugged nonchalantly. "You two work things out?"

"No," she said honestly. Because somewhere in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but wonder who was telling the truth. Her dad, Jennifer or Kali? All of them or none of them?

She never loved your father.

"All right," he said and sounded so much like her dad, which was not strange. They'd gone through training together and then been partners in their earlier days as field agents. Joe glanced at him, wondering if he knew as much as her dad. Had really everyone known about werewolves before her?

Uncle Raf fished out her shoes and jacket and handed them to her. "They're damp because of the luminol, but the tech cleared them for traces of blood." He waited for her to exchange his jacket with hers and sighed. "Listen, kid, you wanna take five in my car? Sorry, but you look like death walking."

"No, I think I'm just gonna go home," she said and tried to smile, not even feeling if her facial muscles responded or not.

"Yeah, about that, I tried calling Melissa, but she's not picking up. You got someone else to take you home? Aww, jeez, kid, what now? You know I don't do well with crying women. Ah, hell, come here."

Of all unlikely events to occur, getting wrapped up in a shock blanket by her uncle was somehow the one she had expected the least. He held her while she cried. She'd cried more the last few weeks than she'd done for the last five years combined. Sleep-deprivation, stress, adrenaline crash — she had plenty of excuses. And maybe she was weak and pathetic, like Kate whispered in her ear constantly.

"Come on, kid, you're cramping my style here," Uncle Raf tried to joke, although she heard the concern in his voice. "Special Agents aren't supposed to coddle their witnesses."

"Special?"

He laughed. "Yeah, don't ask me what's so special about it."

Twelve guys, her dad had said. And Uncle Raf hadn't been included in the count. He didn't know.

"I'll catch a ride with Stiles," she eventually mumbled and shuffled out of the blanket. "You gotta go work, Uncle Raf. Gotta go see what everyone else's missing, particularly the ceiling tiles and the top of the doorframes."

Uncle Raf's mouth pulled back in a grin as he stood up from the bench. "Go catch some Z's, Josie. You get any paler I'm gonna have them pull out another bodybag for ya."

"Yeah, well, I wish I died when I could smell that sweaty suit you're wearing. Whatsa' matter, washing machine too small for your clothes, Lurch?"

"Funny," Uncle Raf said and held his hand out in front of his eyes so he covered up half her face, "from the eyebrows up you're Cousin Itt and eyebrows down you're Uncle Fester." He smiled, signaling game over, and clapped her shoulder, probably putting more force behind it than necessary. "Go home, get some rest and have your aunt call me back ASAP, okay?"

He didn't wait around for an answer and neither was she willing to provide any for him.

I don't trust myself.

"Are you okay to drive?"

"Yeah," Stiles said instantly and did the several-step preparation to get the Jeep running. "And considering the alternative is you and your paint mixer hands over there, I'm definitely okay to drive."

"Okay, see your point," Joe mumbled and put her trembling hands in her lap. Now came the obvious question of where she was going to go. Empty apartment? Empty house? Empty station? Wherever they took Cora? Joe cleared her throat and leaned back as the rumble of the Jeep started. "Have you heard anything from-"

"Scott? No. How about Derek?" A slight beat. "Or..."

"Or?"

"Nevermind."

Joe checked her phone again, her old one that had been in the jacket Uncle Raf recovered for her. "Nothing, but that might be because he doesn't know I'm using this phone now. The other one I had was confiscated when I got arrested."

Stiles made a whistling sound through his teeth. "Don't you think it's a good idea to let Derek know you are using that phone?"

"Yeah," she said and made no motion to do just that. "Probably."

"And you're not because?"

"Because," she said quietly, eyes so heavy they burned like coal in her head, "I'm not a hundred percent sure what happened in the garage."

Stiles made a face. "Which," a vague gesture, "part?"

"I think we kissed."

"Gross, but go on."

"But I'm not sure."

"He'll probably be thrilled to hear that."

"And I don't want to," her brows furrowed, "overstep any boundaries. Like, I'm not sure if we're okay or not. I know we're not okay-okay just yet, but if we're even on friendly terms, I don't-" She stared at Stiles with widened eyes, feeling how dry and bloodshot they were. "What if what I think happened wasn't what actually happened? Because I," her voice sounded so raw it hurt, "think I said that I loved him."

"Kinda sweet, still gross."

Joe dropped her head to stare at her shaking hands. "But he didn't say it back."

He made a clicking sound with his tongue again as he obviously considered this. "But," he began slowly, "if he had said it, wouldn't you then be questioning if that actually happened or if it was part of your delusions?"

"Yeah." They both kept quiet while at least Joe tried to fit this into the perceived narrative. Stage four was dangerous precisely because she didn't know what was real or not. Rationally, she knew most of it would be real. But just questioning it made her feel crazy. "Um, my dad's still not picking up."

At least he caught on quickly. "You're worried the Argent-name on the doors was a decoy? But if Scott's dad was right and Agent Delgado was escorting a prisoner transport, he wouldn't even be in Beacon Hills, would he?"

"I don't know," Joe said and fiddled with the phone in her lap. Stiles pulled over at the side of the road as she still hadn't answered where he was taking her. He was heading for the Argent's apartment to warn about the message on the elevator doors. Joe wanted to take the easy way out and just go with him, but she had to prioritize. "I should probably try and find both him and Jimmy. Do you think you can find out where they took him? There's gotta be a log or something."

"No," Stiles said quietly. "Not without my dad. The station's overrun with FBI-agents and state police now." He blew air out of his mouth. "Do you know where the Alphas would take Scott?"

"I don't know," Joe repeated and bit back the tears by scrunching her face up. "Depends on Deucalion's plan to find the Darach. I'm guessing that's what he promised Scott for joining."

"What'd they promise you?"

Her voice shook as hard as her hands. "Cora." Joe tried to breathe. "Stiles, I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do at all. If the Darach was right, if she was the only one who could cure Cora and she's gone and she took Aunt Mel so she's gone too and Deucalion swayed Scott so he's gone and my dad arrested Jimmy so they're both gone and-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Stiles said quickly and leaned over to grab her hands. The contact jolted her and she looked up at the face of young Stiles Stilinski. A boy who had lost his mom and now was being robbed of his dad as well. "I don't know what to do either, Joe. I just know we gotta do something. Anything is better than nothing."

They both sat in silence, or at least Joe did, only halfway aware of herself slipping in and out of microsleeps. She flinched when Stiles sighed.

"Is he gonna be okay? Scott, I mean," he asked and now she saw how young he was. "They're not gonna start breaking all the bones in his body."

"No, Scott's already strong. They'll test him, probably. I don't know what Deucalion has planned. I don't know if he wants power for power's sake or if he has something bigger in mind."

"You said you'd help Scott, remember? Always, to the end of the line," Stiles reminded her and she nodded numbly. "Does that still hold?"

"Always. But I don't think he needs me the most. Finding Aunt Mel is what matters. You're right." Joe stretched out her neck, muscles tight with tension. "I gotta tell my dad about Aunt Mel. I gotta tell Jimmy he was right. But I don't know where they are."

"You gotta sleep, Joe." Stiles' voice was so hoarse he sounded decades older. "Do you even know what's real or not? Do you know if you're in this car? Do you know if you didn't kill Jimmy like you killed Erica? Do you know you didn't already kill Cora? Do you know if the Darach is in your head too?"

Almost afraid to look up, Joe stared at Stiles with widened eyes. "What?"

"I said we're gonna find them," Stiles apparently repeated, face soft and open. "But we're running out of time. I'll take you to the loft."

Joe nodded, happy he made the call. Prioritize? Sure. Find Scott. Find Jimmy. Find her dad. Find Aunt Mel. Help Cora.

It was as good a guess as any other. Instincts. Cora was the one who needed help, all the others were still just missing. She told Stiles to be careful and he returned the sentiment. On her way into the building, she left several voicemails because no one she called was picking up. In the elevator she hugged herself, feeling more alone than she ever had. Everyone dead or dying or missing.

The sliding door into the loft was closed. Even without werewolf-hearing, she could detect the shouts from inside.

"...were in here, rolling around the sheets with the actual killer. Do you get how many people she's killed? Erica is dead, Boyd probably too, Cora is dying, and you are doing nothing!"

Isaac, Joe realized and paused outside the doors. Not because she wanted to overhear this exchange between him and Derek, but because the thought of going inside to see the evidence filled her with trepidation. Last night, earlier, whichever you wanted to call it as dawn had begun to come through, she could pretend it wasn't so bad. In those few brief seconds with Derek, she could pretend to forget about everything else. Seeing Cora would break her.

Jesus, she had messed up so bad. Not only had she not seen what Derek went through, she had made him feel even worse. Berating him at the hospital with Cora — his last living relative who wasn't insane — between them, unconscious and sick.

She squeezed her eyes shut, fingers lingering on the handle to the door when she heard Isaac ask Derek about why he'd done what he did. If it was about power, if he was bored, if he was lonely...

"The full moon's coming. The Sheriff and Melissa are gonna be dead, so I'm gonna try and help them. You can sit here and perfect the art of doing nothing."

Her heart stopped when the sliding door opened heavily and she faced the pale and trembling face of Isaac Lahey. No supernatural strength in the world could make her strong enough to look him in the eyes.

"You," he said and his eyes glowed with revulsion. Behind him, she could see Derek sitting by a bed, presumably with Cora in it. Isaac's voice was tight with anger. "Here to finish the job? Put another bullet in Derek? Slam me into the wall like you did with Boyd?"

Unable to take it, Joe just fluttered her eyes closed, but remained standing. Last time she was here, she had shot Derek in front of Isaac and the others.

"Or are you here to kill Cora? Shoot her? That's what the Alphas want, right?" His voice trembled, equal parts anger and fear if she was to guess. He towered over her, for once looking down at her. "Was that how you killed Erica? Shot her point-blank in the chest?"

Erica.

From the loft, Derek's voice came: "Isaac, wait-"

"No, I stabbed her."

Joe swallowed, as if that would make her voice sound less strange. Her eyes opened to look at Isaac, to see the full extent of his horror, to feel the hatred drift from him. "I stabbed Erica in the stomach with a branch." She licked her lips, finding them dry and cracked. "And I held it there — held it there until she stopped moving, until she stopped healing. Until she died."

The vivid memory of wide hazel eyes staring at her with fear and hurt overcome Joe. Wide hazel eyes, pupils dilating in and out, before they turned blank and unseeing. Up until that moment, Joe had seen Kate's hard and challenging stare.

"She's dead."

It took a second before she realized it was her own voice who said that. It was the truth. Because Erica was dead. The realization hit her almost as much as the memory. Erica was actually dead. She'd been lying to herself.

It fit, didn't it? She imagined Erica to be there when she was sleep-deprived, when she hallucinated, when she needed to cope. And then after she shot Derek, after she started to sleep more, Erica wasn't there anymore. Conveniently shipped away to a safe location. It was all a dream. A lie.

Erica was really dead. She'd killed her.

Joe took a long shaky breath in, only momentarily drowning out Isaac's labored pants.

"Was that what you wanted to know? How I killed her? You know, I used to think it was so hard to kill a werewolf." Her eyes flickered away from Isaac to the parts of Cora she could see behind Derek, who had risen from his place by the bed, looking resigned. "And now it seems they can't stop dying."

Isaac stared at her without a word coming out of his open mouth. The cold scared look of someone who thought they knew her.

"Oh my God!"

Everyone jumped at the voice and Joe turned to see Erica hurry out of the elevator. Her eyes were wide and angry. "I leave you alone for five minutes and you just try to permanently traumatize Isaac? Come on, Joe, do better!"

Joe's brows furrowed while Isaac looked like he had seen a ghost. He stumbled back. "Erica?"

"This is getting so annoying," Erica muttered to Joe before throwing herself at Isaac in a solid hug. He looked completely frozen, but Erica didn't seem to mind. She kissed his cheek, leaving a glittering smear of lipgloss. "Hey, Isaac. What's up?"

"Erica?"

"Isaac!" Erica repeated sarcastically and took a step back to survey him. "What's up with the dorky-looking coat? And why do you smell like that?"

"No, wait," Isaac shook as he held up a hand, pointing at Joe, "I saw you-"

"False memories."

They all turned to the other occupant of the elevator and Joe felt her hackles rise. Sarah Walker, dressed in a pair of elegant gray slacks with a gray sweater and a gray coat over it. Dark hair slicked back in a ponytail. Heels clicked when she walked over the floor.

She gave Isaac a cursory glance. "Although the purpose is still a mystery."

"Right." Isaac did not look comforted the least. He glanced at Joe and Erica in turn. "Who's that?"

"One of Joe's evil professors. She's a werewolf," Erica said easily and pushed past Joe to the inside of the loft. She sniffed. "Okay, you weren't kidding when you said this wasn't exactly the Hilton."

Head reeling, Joe glared at Sarah. "Where's your wife?"

"We had a," Sarah walked slowly towards the entrance to the loft, "disagreement." She paused next to Joe, looking down at the floor before continuing. "I'm only here to help."

For a while, Joe just stood in the doorway, idle on the threshold like Cora was idle between life and death. Function. You have to function.

Catching Isaac's disturbed stare, Joe shrugged with heavy shoulders. "I'm hallucinating pretty bad. I'm sorry. I wasn't lying on purpose."

"I saw her body. At the bank."

"I know. It feels real."

"Well, this is an unexpected surprise."

The sarcasm came from Peter Hale, who sat in the spiral staircase down in the corner. He descended slowly, giving all his undivided attention to Sarah Walker, who had stopped in the middle of the loft with her hands in the pockets of her coat.

"Peter Hale," she said, no kindness in her voice or eyes. "Dug your way back from the dead? Twice now, I believe? Explains the smell."

Peter grinned, but it never reached his eyes.

"You know her?"

Derek, who had remained quiet by Cora's bed, glanced at Peter. There was a defensive nature to his stance, arms crossed and back straight. It was easy to see how Peter and Derek both sized up Sarah. In the bed, the youngest Hale laid sickly white and breathing painfully. Black remnants on her lips, possibly after her body trying and failing to heal from the infection.

"I do indeed," Peter said and glanced over at Joe, tilting his head to measure her from the top of her frizzy braids to the bottom of her shoes. "Looks like Kali didn't eradicate her whole pack after all."

Subject to Derek's questioning glance, Joe sighed. "Yeah, I know. I've known for a while. Didn't think it mattered."

"Do you know everything?" Peter asked and there was something gleeful in his eyes. Like he was in on the joke.

Joe blew air out of her mouth in a slow order, ignoring Sarah's guilty look. "Yeah. I think I figured it out, and the parallels aren't lost on me. But I'm just not gonna deal with it right now. Doesn't matter. So, just wipe that smirk off your face, asshole."

"That's Uncle Creeper?" Erica guessed with her glittering lips twisted in a frown. She had taken a seat next to the unconscious Cora, casually holding the girl's hand. With a raised eyebrow, she looked at Derek. "Explains a lot."

"Have you figured out which side you're on, Josefina?" Peter asked, still smiling sarcastically. "It seems an odd coincidence you should come trekking with a member of your mother's old pack, no?"

Joe didn't need to watch Sarah to see the flinch — she had already known.

"Did Kali convince you to kill Cora out of mercy, to stop her suffering? Killing a Beta makes you stronger, right? And Cora was your Beta first."

"I tried-" Joe cleared her throat, still not stepping inside the loft. "I tried to push her away. I didn't want- I never wanted-" She'd stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket and now squeezed them into tight balls to keep them from shaking. A warmth landed on her shoulder and she realized Isaac had put his hand there. It gave her the strength to get her voice back and she looked at Derek. "Is she any better?"

Derek shifted a bit, turning his head to glance at Cora. "No. She's getting worse."

As expected, but still enough to take Joe's breath away. A ball of worry and sick rolled around inside of her, growing bigger with each unconscious whimper Cora let out.

"Can you help?" Derek asked Sarah with a calculated softness in his voice. He cast Peter a warning glare.

"With mistletoe-poisoning?" Sarah took a few tentative steps towards the bed, obviously inhaling the scent and making a face. She sounded genuinely upset. "No. Only a druid can. This is old power. The Darach-"

"Julia," Joe interjected, just to watch the resigned expression on Sarah's face. She hadn't known that, but suspected. "Julia Baccari did this." And plenty of other things she would eventually have to answer for. "What about Kane?"

Another slight headshake. "Bridget doesn't have that kind of power."

"And she won't help," Joe said. Not a guess, certain knowledge at this point. It was fine. She would catch up with her later. "What about Deaton? Marin?"

"The Alpha's Emissary?" Peter asked, sounding incredulous. "Really?"

"She's a druid first," Joe found herself weakly arguing. Gaining some resolve, she looked at Peter to avoid looking at Derek or the bed Isaac had referenced. "And the Alphas didn't poison Cora."

Peter scoffed and his tone was light and agreeable. "No, they just held her locked up for three months. With you." He dawdled off the staircase and held his arms behind his back as he walked up to her. Sarah's head swiveled as she kept her gaze trained on him. "You might think we are in some 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'-situation here, Josefina, but Kali's ultimatum still stands, correct? She still wants blood for Ennis' death."

Breathe, just breathe. "Let me deal with Kali."

"How?"

Breathe, just breathe. "I don't know yet."

"That's comforting. If Kali was willing to slaughter her pack for Ennis, you think she will hesitate for a second in killing Derek to avenge his death?" Peter came even closer, his arms folded as he tilted his head to fully look at her. Behind him, Joe could see Sarah slowly taking her hands out of her pocket as well as Erica rising. "Do you think she will hesitate to kill him just because you're her daughter and he's your mate?"

Breathe, just breathe. "If Deucalion calls her off, yes." Finding enough strength to tear her hands out of her own pockets, she folded her arms over her chest. Both Sarah and Erica looked ready to pounce and Joe did not have the capacity to deal with that right now. "Look, I didn't come here to justify all my choices and especially not to the likes of you, Hale. Coming back from the dead does not mean you get a free pass for the string of murders left in your wake before dying."

"That string of murders, as you so eloquently put it, was to revenge the decimation of my family and leaving me in a coma for six years, in case you forgot about that. I for one have not forgotten the slightest how the mastermind of that act is still at large, spared from death by those very trembling hands."

He'd glanced down at her arms and she immediately stuffed them back in her pocket. She bit out: "I'm living with that mistake every day."

"Yes, you are, aren't you?" Peter said and she got the distinct impression he could see straight into her brain. "Because that's who you see when you hallucinate, right? Makes you wonder exactly what Kate said to you when she lured you u-"

"Stop."

Derek's voice rang out in the loft and Peter slinked back with a sly grin. Joe realized she had her eyes activated, making them a deep blood red. Not a bright glowing red like Derek or Deucalion, but a muted burning crimson with a darker ridge, almost black in appearance. Like Kali. She shook her head, both to gain some control back and to dislodge the memories brought on by Peter's words.

He's goading you, she thought, but to what end? At least he backed off, giving only cursory glances to Sarah and Erica, both with glowing eyes and staring at him. Pack mentality and Joe did not have much to spare for that right now.

Erica dimmed her eyes down first and made a face at Peter. She sat down, probably subconsciously grabbing Cora's hand again. Pack mentality, again. "I don't like you."

"No one likes him," Isaac supplied from behind Joe. "But we're wasting time. I'm heading over to Allison and-"

He cut himself off as Erica's head snapped up. Her voice could freeze continents. "You're heading where?"

"Uh..."

"Erica," Joe sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Can we not?"

"No, no, say that again," Erica ordered and stalked over the floor to the entrance. Her glare trained on Isaac who fidgeted, but tried to stand tall. "You're heading over to Allison's? That's what I thought you smelled like, but I thought: 'Oh no, Isaac wouldn't do that, Isaac wouldn't snuggle up with the bitch who literally kidnapped and tortured us!'"

Joe made another weak attempt, although she gave Isaac a disappointed glare. "Erica."

Unfortunately, Isaac didn't make things easier on himself by having the guiltiest expression on the planet.

"You little Judas!" Erica shouted, and would have jumped Isaac if Joe hadn't casually thrown her arm out to hold her back. "You have any idea how many arrows she fired at us? Verne took like ten of them! She even shot my phone!"

"Okay, I know, she stabbed me like twenty times-"

"What?"

"-but she apologized and sounded pretty sincere!"

"Oh my God, Isaac, you have to stop confusing people hurting you for affection!"

Joe winced. "No victim-blaming, Erica."

"No fraternizing with the enemy, Isaac! Oh my God, if you thought I was dead up until now, she would have indirectly been the cause of that. Gross, Isaac!"

"No public exposure of people's traumas," Joe shifted her stance to come between her and Isaac, forcing the girl to look her in the eyes, "Erica!"

"Okay, but can we all agree that's sort of messed up?"

Peter raised a hand. "I agree."

Erica made a face. "Ew, no."

Joe rolled her eyes. "Back off, Erica," she hissed and Erica relented, taking a few steps back. Isaac looked genuinely distraught and the fighting wasn't helping anyone. "We don't have time for this."

Mumbling under her breath, Erica stepped aside when Derek crossed over the loft floor.

It had been just hours since Joe last saw him, since the kiss and it still took whatever remnants of strength she had left to look at him now as he stalked up to the doorway. He wore the same sweater as the hospital, easily recognizable by the uncharacteristic zipper and button combination in the neckline. A sweater that now held her blood and tears alike. They had fought until she broke down, then he had held her in his arms. And then they had kissed, hadn't they?

Derek looked tired. Joe was tired.

"What do you want to do, Joe?"

A million answers lined themselves up on her lips. Instincts drove her there. She wanted to see him. She wanted to help Cora. She wanted that he would kiss her again and block out all the noise so she could just get a few seconds of rest from her own mind. Now she was starting to worry she had imagined the kiss. It had been too good, too easy.

"I want my gun back," she answered instead, squashing all the other useless emotions down. "I'll go find Deaton or Marin, someone has to have answers other than Jennifer. There has to be something we can do."

With just a nod, Derek went to the side and retrieved the familiar 9mm pistol. Twelve rounds left in the clip, if her memory served correctly. Two left in the apartment, one used to split the twins from joining together, two lodged into the elevator at the hospital.

"Are you really sure that's such a good idea?" Peter asked from the side as if he couldn't help himself. Derek, still holding the gun loosely in his hand, only looked up at him. "Not to pass judgment on your track record with women, but you do know how to pick them, don't you?"

"Yeah, well, he didn't pick anyone," Joe said and snatched the gun out of Derek's limp hand. Avoiding either of their gazes, she placed it back where it belonged. "Let alone me. So we should be fine."

"Joe-"

"Don't," Joe said softly, barely holding it together as it was. "Not now."

Derek looked worried, but nodded. "Okay. Later."

"Later."

Sarah moved over the loft, snapping her fingers at Erica, who made another face. "We'll come with you." At Joe's equally disgusted face, Sarah sighed. "We'll cover more ground faster."

"I'll join you," Isaac said and Joe rolled her neck around. Pack mentality. Stupid bullshit.

"Okay, fine." She gave Derek her full attention. "One more thing: my dad arrested Jimmy yesterday and I haven't been able to get hold of either of them since. Our apartment's probably under surveillance," because Joe fired two shots there last night, "so if Jimmy shows up here, have him call me." Unable to help it, she glanced at Derek's drawn face. "I'm using my old phone."

"I know," he said in that familiar baritone voice. His expression softened a fraction. "You got my text, remember?" Right. The love declaration, one that he never returned. He held her gaze for a second before dropping it. Time and place were, as usual, not perfect. "I'll stay with Cora. Be careful, Joe."

"Yeah, you too."

"Hey. What about me?"

Derek sighed. "Be careful, Erica."

"Thank you, Derek." Passing Joe, Erica whispered: "I miss Jimmy."

Giving Derek an apologetic glance, Joe headed out with the rest of them.

Getting into the elevator only reminded her of Jennifer, so Joe closed her eyes when all of them sidled in. She leaned against the wall, waiting for the descent, only hearing the quiet bickering between Erica and Isaac. Closing her eyes made her fall asleep instantly.

Faces swam in and out of focus. Blurring into the background before bursting out into clarity. Neither seemed to hold their shape for very long, morphing into each other and themselves at uneven rhythm. Jimmy, Scott, Kali, her dad, Cora, Derek —all asking the same question.

"Do you trust me?"

No.

The heads conjoined into a larger one and the features shifted around until it settled into another familiar face. A mix between Robert Delgado and Kali. With his nose and jawline, with her eyes and mouth. Skin tone closer to Kali, hair color closer to Rob. It was Joe. It was her own face staring at her. Her lips moved, asking: "Do you trust me?"

"No!"

The elevator dinged and she woke up fully, blinking into the faces of the worried faces of the others. Doors opened to reveal the shining sunlight outside. Making sure to tuck the gun properly underneath the jacket, Joe went outside on the streets and blinked at the brightness.

Looking at the small pack, for lack of better words, she sighed. This was going to be a long day.

A little bit of pack dynamics, but in a time of crisis and confusion.

Joe needs sleep, but it's not looking too good just yet. Sorry for her weird mood, she's not feeling too good.

Thank you so much for the response on the previous chapter. It's grown on me since then and I feel more satisfied with it. This one is a little bit slower, but hopefully also enjoyable.

Lots of overtime for me this week, so a shorter A/N than usual.

Thank you for reading as always, please let me know what you think Stay safe, guys! ❤