I'll Be Forever Yours, Faithfully
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or Teen Wolf. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: Alex Potter relocates to New York, intent on a fresh start for herself and her godson. Derek Hale is haunted by the ghosts in his past, afraid to look towards his future. Together, they find hope, and healing, and so much more… Post Hogwarts, Pre TW Series, Soulmate AU. DH/fem!HP.
Rating: M for language, violence, character death, and adult themes.
Author: tlyxor1.
Chapter One:
Teddy's been grizzling for the last half hour, his routine thrown off by the emergency trip to the bodega down the street. He's tired and out of sorts, and by the time Alex Potter enters the foyer of their building, he's had just about enough of her nonsense. He howls his displeasure, tiny face red and streaked with tears, and Alex - exhausted, emotional, lonely - is tempted to join him in his meltdown.
Rather than do so, she steps out of the way of any potential foot traffic, carelessly deposits her grocery bags on the ground by her feet, wrangles herself and Teddy out of his carrier, and does her best to soothe her despondent godson. She's not up to putting up with the glares she'd likely receive from anyone forced to endure his wailing whilst in the confines of an elevator, and so she lingers in the foyer instead, rocks him and hums softly, and avoids eye contact with the strangers who pass them by until Teddy, eventually, falls asleep in her arms.
Once she's confident he won't wake if she moves him, Alex returns him to his carrier, shoulders the straps that will keep him against her front, and crouches to gather up her discarded groceries.
Before she can pick the bags up, however, someone else beats her to them, and Alex glances upwards, startled. She's usually far more conscious of her surroundings - a byproduct of her adolescence spent embroiled in a war - but apparently she's more tired than she'd thought, because she'd not noticed anyone approach, and attractive as he is, his presence is simultaneously surprising and alarming.
"Let me help you with those," he says, and as he straightens up to his full height, he hefts her three grocery bags as though they weigh nothing. He's tall and lean, with broad shoulders and a trim waist, and Alex nearly swallows her tongue. "It looks like you've got your hands full."
Under any other circumstance, Alex would proudly (RE: Stubbornly) inform him that she's a strong, independent woman who is perfectly capable of carrying her own groceries, thank you very much. She's been alone for most of her life, she's learned the hard way that people always leave, and she's rather proud of her ability to take care of herself.
Quite frankly, however, she's far too tired to make the effort. Between Teddy's nighttime feedings and her own nightmares, she's barely slept, her period has returned with a vengeance after 18 months of stress-induced, irregular spotting, and all she wants to do is eat a tub of chocolate ice cream and sleep until November. Moreover, Alex has had those words memorised since the age of 11, and the fact she's actually hearing them gives her pause.
Does she dare hope? She's had a couple of false alarms before - not many, because her soulmate's first words to her aren't that common - but enough to make her wary.
"Be careful," she says, attempting levity, but certain the effort falls flat. SHe's too nervous, her heart thundering in her chest. She's not sure she could muster up a genuine laugh if she tried, "With manners like that, I may just ask you to stick around."
He freezes where he stands, dark haired and strikingly handsome. The surprise on his face is obvious and promising, and as he tilts his head to study her, Alex rises to her feet, anxious and hopeful under his scrutiny. Teddy sleeps on, and the ensuing seconds seem to drag by.
He clears his throat, looks at her face and then his feet and then the room around them, and an endearing blush creeps up his neck, over his cheeks, reaches the tips of his ears. He opens his mouth to speak, closes it again, attempts to speak once more, and then frowns at the tiled floor beneath them.
"I'm Alexandria," she says, and it sounds loud and abrupt in the silence between them, "Or Alex, rather, and this is my godson, Teddy. Thank you for helping me."
"Derek," he answers, "And I'm glad I decided to. I'm happy to meet you."
Alex smiles, tentative, but hopeful, "Likewise."
They approach the elevators slowly, in a silence Alex isn't sure how to fill. Derek, at least, seems just as lost for words, and in his carrier, Teddy snuffles in his sleep.
"So, I gather you're not from around here," Derek observes. She presses the 'Up' arrow, and nods her confirmation, "How long have you been in New York?"
"I moved here at the beginning of August," Alex replies, "So about two months now."
"And how do you like America?"
"It's… Different."
"You hate it." Derek is amused.
"I don't hate it, per se," she denies, and the doors of the elevator slide open ahead of them. They both shuffle inside, and Alex presses the button for her floor, "Hate is a very strong word. I've never lived in a big city, so it's more that it's not what I'm used to."
"Well, for what it's worth, welcome to America."
Alex huffs a laugh. "Thanks."
On her floor, Derek follows Alex to her flat. She shuffles inside, but he hesitates in the doorway, uncertain.
"You can come in," she says, and prays she's not wrong to do so. They may be soulmates, but they've only just met, he's still a stranger, and for all she knows, he could be an axe murderer. She hopes he's not. "You can put the bags on the counter."
Derek does so wordlessly, and Alex carefully removes Teddy's carrier from her front. She relocates her godson, too, stretches him out in his portable cot, covers him in a blanket, and flounders for something to say to the man hovering by her kitchen counter. He's truly attractive, with a presence that seems to fill the space around him, and she tries not to stare.
"Would you like something to drink?" she asks instead, for lack of anything else to say, "I don't have coffee, but I have tea, juice, water…?"
"I'd love some water, thank you," Derek replies. He seems nervous, too, and Alex is glad she's not the only one. How did Fred and Hermione make the soulmate thing look so easy?
"You can make yourself comfortable," she says, retrieving a couple of glasses of water for them both. A lock of her hair falls out of the haphazard bun she'd thrown it into earlier, and she's suddenly, painfully cognisant of her frayed jeans, battered trainers, the old, care-worn jumper that swims on her thin frame. "I suppose we ought to talk."
"You said my words," Derek states, leant against the opposite side of the kitchen counter from her. His long fingers wrap around the glass she offers him, and he meets her gaze with his own, an indiscernible blend of blue and grey. "Did I say yours?"
"You did," Alex confirms. She can't suppress her smile for the life of her, because she's just met her soulmate, strong and healthy and delightfully, gloriously alive, "And I've no idea where to go from here."
"Neither do I."
Alex is giddy though, a bubbling, nervous sort of excitement for the possibilities that stretch out ahead of her - or them, rather. Admittedly, she is in no place to start a relationship with anyone - she's fresh out of a war, frequently plagued by flashbacks and nightmares, visiting a wizarding therapist three times a week - and she's self-aware enough to recognise it. Scientific and Magical research have both indicated, however, that a person's soulmate is more than just their perfect (romantic) match, that soulmates generally understand each other on an intrinsic, soul-deep level that can't be replicated, and to think she's found that person for her when she arguably needs them most…
In the wake of that, her period cramps, her exhaustion, the PTSD; They suddenly seem inconsequential, the world brighter and better and beautiful in ways it hadn't been that morning.
It's absurd, of course - Alex is far too pragmatic to believe the world can shift so drastically because of one person, - but it's something, and for once in her life, Alex - war weary, grieving, a little battered, a little bruised - chooses to embrace it with her whole heart.
"We can figure it out together?"
Derek smiles, hesitant, and it's like the first sight of sunshine after a year of rain, "I like the sound of that."
It's a good thing he does, because Alex really does, too.
-!- -#-
Chapter Two:
"I think I need a bit of time to wrap my head around this," Alex admits ruefully, her hands curled around her own glass, "I never actually expected I'd meet you. It's a little surreal."
Alexandria had spent the last few years confident she wouldn't survive the war, and in the years before that, she'd never spent much time contemplating what she wanted for her future. Her relatives had always discouraged any fanciful notions from her - like success and happiness - and by the time Hogwarts had rolled around, Alex was far too much of a pessimist to dream about her soulmate, to imagine their first meeting and wonder what he'd be like. Then there'd been no time to do so, no energy or inclination, either, and suddenly faced with the reality of him in front of her, Alex is completely at a loss of where to go from there.
"I think I need some time, as well," Derek replies on an exhale. He seems relieved by her honesty, but also a little lost, and Alex wonders about what he's had to endure to be the one the world thought could understand her like no other. Nothing pleasant, presumably.
"Perhaps we could take the day to process; Meet up tomorrow?" she suggests.
"I can do that," Derek agrees with an amiable nod, "Did you want to swap numbers?"
They do so, and then they make tentative plans for brunch the next day. It's a Sunday, and they're both free, but some days, Teddy feels under the weather, or Alex can't bring herself to leave the flat, or something unavoidable arises. She'll confirm in the morning, and hopefully by then, she'll have figured out what she wants from Derek, or at least what she wants to say to him.
"Did you want a refill?" she gestures towards his empty water glass.
"No, I'm okay, thank you," Derek replies, "I'd better go, actually. I'm expecting some guests, so…"
"Of course," Alex acknowledges, "I'll walk you to the door."
Without anything to carry, Derek walks with his hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders slouch and gaze downcast. In doing so, he seems smaller, less imposing, somehow diminished by the weight of whatever demons he carries on his back.
"Thanks for the drink," Derek says in the doorway.
"Thank you for helping with the groceries," Alex counters, "I really appreciate it. Especially since…"
"Anytime," Derek replies, a small, fleeting smile on his face. He blushes almost immediately after, right to the tips of his ears, and sheepishly averts his gaze. It's utterly endearing. "I'll, ah, text you?"
"I might text you first," Alex parries lightly. Derek doesn't seem to know how to respond to it, floundering for words as his blush deepens. He's spared from the uncertainty, however, as Teddy wakes with a wail. Derek glances over her shoulder, concerned, and Alex sighs with a sheepish grin, "But for now, duty calls."
Alex shuts the door on Derek's retreating back, and shuffles towards Teddy, who is rather disgruntled by the wait for her attention. As she talks to her godson, she changes his nappy, feeds him a lunch of soft fruit and yoghurt, watches TV as Teddy entertains himself with his mobile, and the hours drift by.
Eventually, Teddy goes down for his afternoon nap, Alex retrieves her tub of ice-cream and a spoon to eat it with, and Skype calls Hermione. They're due for a chat, but also, Alex needs to tell someone about the day's surprises before she implodes with it, and Hermione Granger is her best friend.
"Hi," Hermione greets her warmly. She's already in her nightgown, but she looks alert, an ink blot on her cheek. Despite being at home, she' still working, and Alex worries about burnout. "How are you, Allie? You look tired."
"Par for the course, isn't it?" Alex shrugs, nonchalant, and Hermione frowns. Her concern is obvious. "Teddy doesn't sleep through the night, but that's okay, because he usually wakes me up from nightmares. Nothing new in that regard, I suppose. How are you, though? Making waves? Causing trouble?"
"Of course," Hermione agrees blithely. She doesn't press the issue of Alexandria's insomnia - that will only result in an argument neither of them will win, and Alex is grateful for the reprieve. She truly doesn't have the energy for it. "I live to make traditionalists' lives difficult."
Alex laughs, and briefly regrets that she's not there to see the fallout. The feeling is fleeting.
At present, Hermione is working with Kingsley Shacklebolt to restructure the Wizengamot to include a body of elected officials, voted in by the general public. In the wake of what they've come to label as the Second Blood War, the survivors of the Order of the Phoenix and of the Defence Association feel it would be beneficial as a means of counteracting the near-absolute authority the Ancient and Noble Houses hold over Magical Britain's government, and it's been met with a great deal of opposition from the traditionalists. Hermione, Kingsley, and their allies, colleagues, and friends continue to persevere, regardless.
Alex, who has no interest in wizarding politics, does not envy them in the slightest. She worries, though; Such sweeping reform doesn't come without consequences.
"How's everyone?"
"Oh, we're getting by," Hermione replies, "As well as can be expected, I suppose. We all miss you, but I think we all understand. Actually, Parvati and Padma left for New Delhi a couple of weeks ago, and Blaise has been talking about spending some time in Florence. You may have started a trend."
"I can't say I'm sorry about it," Alex shrugs, unabashed. She misses everyone back in Britain, but the only other thing she misses about the place is the quality tea. Otherwise, she's glad to be far from the ghosts in the UK, from the people who continue to look to her to solve their problems, from the impossible expectations that had weighed so heavily on her shoulders. "Is anyone else talking about leaving?"
"Charlie's already left for Romania, as you know, and I think Ginny and Luna are making plans for an expedition when they finish school. Other than them, the only other people I know about for sure are Bill and Fleur," Hermione replies, "There's a dig in China Bill's looking at, and I guess Fleur's gotten tired of Mrs Weasley badgering her about grandchildren. Of course, Mrs Weasley isn't happy about it, but I think everyone's just ready to get on with their lives."
"Is she still pestering you and Fred about getting married?"
Hermione rolls her eyes, exasperated, and pulls an unhappy face at the reminder. "If it's not that, then it's living together while out of wedlock. I swear, I'll go mental one of these days. It's no wonder Bill and Charlie left the country as soon as they could."
Alex eats her ice-cream as Hermione updates her on everything in Britain, rambles about her entry level job in the Minister's Office, the on-going effort to mend fences with her parents, the reconstruction efforts at Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, throughout Greater Magical Britain until, finally, Hermione runs out of things to say.
"What about you? What have you been up to?"
"Not much," Alex shrugs. SHe's mostly been busy sorting out her inheritance and the like, but since it's no one's business but her own, she doesn't particularly care to talk about it. "I have some news, actually."
"Well, don't leave me in suspense." Hermione leans closer to the camera, intrigued, "What is it?"
"I've met my soulmate."
Hermione's eyes widen, mouth agape, and Alex grins despite herself. It's not often that she can surprise her best friend. "Please tell me you're not joking, Allie. I might die if you do."
"Not a joke, though your theatrics are appreciated" Alex assures her, "I met him earlier today. He helped me with my groceries."
Hermione nods thoughtfully. "That makes sense, with your words. Are you going to tell me about him?"
"Nope," Alex counters, "Not yet. There isn't much to tell, anyway."
Partly, it's because she wants to keep him to herself for a bit, unhampered by the expectations of others. It mightn't work out in the days, weeks, months to come - soulmate bonds don't always mean happily ever after - but for the moment, she wants to revel in the knowledge that Derek Hale is - or at least has the potential to be - her person, that her words have turned silver with his appearance in her life, that Lady Luck, or Fate, or Aphrodite was on her side today.
Beyond that, though, she's also afraid to get her hopes up. Derek represents the possibility for a future Alex has never dared to imagine for herself, and it's terrifying. She'd spent years certain she wouldn't live through the war, and four months after Voldemort's downfall, the future - a career, a home, a family - still seems so utterly impossible for her.
How can she possibly deserve that ending, when so many others will never receive it themselves? Moreover, what if a future with her is something Derek Hale doesn't want? Alex doesn't think she'd be able to bear that kind of disappointment, never mind the sympathy and pity of others on top of it.
Hermione, though, blows a raspberry, unimpressed by her friend's answer, and Fred appears in the screen behind her. He looks vaguely singed around the edges, his clothes smoking and his hair standing on end. It's a familiar - if still comical - sight.
Alex waves as Fred props his chin on Hermione's head, eyeing his former teammate curiously. "You look familiar. Do I know you?"
"Nice to see you too, Fred," Alex acknowledges, "I'm well, thank you for asking. And yourself?"
"Making mischief, as per usual," Fred answers importantly, but he sobers up a moment later, "We actually reopened this weekend, so it's been a bit of a madhouse. Business is booming though, so I suppose we can't complain."
As a means of healing from the Death Eater occupation of the year prior, Professor McGonagall has agreed to allow students the opportunity to spend weekends at home, or to travel back and forth from the castle as day students. It's a temporary measure - due to last only the 2008 - 2009 - school year, and it's provided Fred and George with an excellent opportunity to make a profit.
Probably other businesses too, come to think of it.
"Complain all you want," Alex advises, "It'll make you feel better."
Fred grins. "Expert advice, is it?"
"Of course," Alex replies, "I mastered the art of complaining during Fifth Year, don't you remember?"
"I think I missed that auspicious occasion. Must have been after we dropped out."
"Distinct possibility."
Hermione sighs, long-suffering but fond. "You two are ridiculous."
Fred shrugs. "I do try."
"What he said," Alex concurs. She can't remember the last time they'd bantered like this, far too consumed by the war and everything that had come with it, but it feels good to do so once more.
If the small, content smile on Hermione's face is anything to go by, Alex's best friend agrees.
"Some things will never change, I suppose," Hermione sighs, mock resigned.
"You love it, Granger," Alex counters, ""Pretend like you don't all you want; I can see right through you."
"Pleasant as this conversation is, I'm going to hit the shower. Good to talk, Allie. Take care, yeah?"
"You, too, Freddy," Alex acknowledges. She waves again, he returns it, and a moment later, he's gone. "I suppose I shouldn't keep you. It's getting late there, isn't it?"
"A bit," Hermione reluctantly concedes. The following day is a Sunday, but the brunette has a standing breakfast date with her parents, and she's something of a terror if she hasn't had enough sleep.
"We'll talk in a few days?"
"Of course," Hermione agrees, "And I'll keep mum about your news. I'm excited for you, though. You'll have to give me all the details later."
"Later," Alex confirms, "When I'm ready."
"When you're ready," Hermione agrees.
After their usual farewells, Alex disconnects the call, sighs to herself, and contemplates a nap on the couch. Teddy will be up soon though, requiring attention and whatnot, and so she instead opts to busy herself with a few chores. She puts on a load of laundry, cleans the kitchen and clears away her godson's scattered toys from the living room floor, and makes a start on dinner for herself and Teddy.
The entire time, Alex's thoughts are on Derek, on the surreal fact she's found her soulmate, and on the persistent question of what it means for her, going forward. A romantic relationship is out of the question for the moment - for both of their sakes - but alone in New York City, thousands of miles from her family, and haunted by the war that had nearly destroyed her, Alex could certainly do with a friend.
Alex doesn't know it yet, but Derek - isolated by demons of his own - could certainly do with one, too.
-!- -#-
Chapter Three:
Derek knocks on her door promptly at ten the next morning. He's dressed smartly, in a button-down, a deep blue cable-knit jumper, black jeans and boots, and Alex welcomes him inside with a nervous smile. She's ready to go, but she's yet to put Teddy in his carrier, and she's not sure she ought to.
"Are we going far?" she asks, "I wasn't sure if I should bring his pram."
"There's a cafe down the block," Derek replies, "I thought we could go there. It's good, but it's not overly crowded on Sundays."
"His carrier, then," Alex acknowledges, and proceeds to settle him inside it with the ease of one accustomed to doing so.
"I can carry his diaper bag, if that makes things easier?" Derek offers hesitantly. He waves as Teddy looks at him, an unguarded smile on his face, and Teddy's whisky coloured eyes glow gold. Alex is as startled by the sight as Derek - if for different reasons - and she laughs awkwardly. Derek is intrigued. "He's a werewolf?"
"He is," Alex confirms hesitantly, "Or he will be, I suppose. He doesn't transform yet, but in a few years, he will. How did you know?"
"Hard not to recognise my own kind," Derek replies mildly. He watches Alex intently as he does so, but Alex's only reaction is a mild sense of surprise. His apparent world-weariness aside, Derek doesn't exhibit any of the side effects of Lycanthropy she'd observed in Remus.
"Makes sense," she acknowledges, and concedes that she shouldn't be surprised at all. The building is a supernatural-friendly one, which means its made up of residents who are part of - or at least, who are in the know of - the supernatural world.
It also serves as a safe haven from those who would seek to do them harm, but that's another matter.
She shoulders the straps of Teddy's carrier, and reaches for his nappy bag. Derek takes hold of it before she can, tugs the strap over one of his own shoulders without pause, and gestures for her to lead the way to the door, "It must be difficult; Living in a city like this."
"It's not ideal," Derek admits, a rueful grimace on his face. His expression discourages further questions regarding the matter though, so despite her curiosity, Alex doesn't pry further. There's a time for such things, and when they've recently met each other is not that time.
Instead, Alex busies herself with locking the door of her flat, Teddy coos at Derek, and they make their way to the elevator in an awkward, stilted silence.
Derek speaks when they're inside the elevator. It's blessedly empty of other residents, and it descends quickly.
"Have you been to Samson and Sarah before?"
"Outside of appointments, I've hardly left the flat," Alex admits, mildly chagrined. She'd not always been such a homebody - on Privet Drive, she'd done everything she could to stay away from her relatives' home - but the war had left more than just visible scars. She can hardly stand crowds now, or open spaces, and she sardonically reflects that Alastor Moody would be proud of the veteran she'd become.
"You're in for a treat, then," Derek replies.
"How so?"
""The food is great," Derek explains.
"I am a big fan of good food," Alex acknowledges lightly.
The lift reaches the ground floor, and the pair traverse the foyer quickly. Teddy studies their surroundings, babbling to himself, and Derek holds the front door open as Alex passes through.
It's the early days of October, and Autumn has begun to make its presence known, so the weather is pleasantly cool as they walk the short distance to Samson and Sarah. They chat idly, about her short time in New York, her observations and impressions, and Derek shares his own from when he'd first arrived in the city, as well.
In the time it takes for them to reach the cafe, the topic distracts Alex from her nerves - she's rather anxious about the conversation ahead - but when she steps over the threshold of Samson and Sophie, her anxiety returns with a vengeance.
"Are you okay? Derek asks. Teddy, sensing her discomfort, fusses in his carrier.
"I will be," she replies.
Alex follows Derek through the restaurant, to a table tucked into a corner with an ideal view of the rest of the cafe, and a waitress arrives with menus, and also an enquiry regarding whether or not they'd like a highchair.
"That would be appreciated, thank you," Alex acknowledges. The carrier is set out of the way, beneath their table, and Teddy is settled in Alex's lap while they wait. Derek entertains him, pulling silly faces as Alex studies the meals the cafe has on offer, and their interaction - as Teddy laughs and Derek grins, open and uninhibited - is endearing.
Their waitress returns with a highchair, and Teddy goes into it reluctantly. Their orders are taken, too, and the waitress' departure heralds the return of yet another awkward, stilted silence.
"How old is Teddy?"
"Six months as of a few days ago," Alex replies.
"And you're his legal guardian?" Derek asks. He doesn't seem surprised by her confirming nod - just sad - and Alex wonders, once more, about what he's had to live through to be unfazed by the thought of an 18 year old guardian for a baby not her own. She doesn't ask - not yet - and Derek doesn't pry, either. Instead, he changes the subject, and asks, "Have you had enough time to wrap your head around things?"
"You don't pull your punches, do you?"
Derek shrugs, unapologetic, "Not really, no."
"The shock's worn off, I suppose."
"Yeah, that took a while," Derek huffs a laugh, self-deprecating, "I walked into my apartment and my sister said I looked concussed."
"It was a bit like that," Alex concedes. She fusses with her cutlery, unfolds her napkin, brushes a hand over the fine hair on Teddy's head, and flounders for a way to tactfully say what she needs to. As Alex glances anxiously at Derek though, she comes to the conclusion that there isn't a particularly tactful method, and so she bites the bullet, and informs him, "I'm not sure what you want from this, but I'm not ready for a relationship right now. I have a lot of things to work through."
In response, Derek exhales audibly. He looks simultaneously disappointed and relieved, and Alex has no idea what to make of it. She's glad to have it out there though, to have gotten it off her chest, even as the interminably long wait for his response will surely be the death of her.
"That's completely fine," Derek acknowledges.
Hesitantly, Alex says, "I could do with a friend though. I thought we could work on that, and maybe go from there?"
It's bizarre, discussing - even abstractly - the prospect of a future with Derek. They're strangers still, the only tie between them the words spelled out in silver across their skin, and neither of them have any guarantee of things working out ideally. The potential for happiness is there though - particularly if they're both willing to work for it - and as such, Alex tries not to get caught up in the surrealism of it all.
"Friends are good," Derek acknowledges. He smiles at her then, small but sincere, and adds, "I don't have a lot of those these days."
Alex's own responding smile is tentative. "Neither do I; Not in the same timezone, anyway."
Despite clearing that up, it's not immediately smooth sailing. The meal itself is an exercise in avoiding each other's emotional triggers, interspersed with instances of entertaining and feeding Teddy, getting to know each other, and eating their own respective orders.
Over their meal, Alex learns Derek is a few months shy of his 20th birthday, in his third year of an Accounting degree at NYU, that he lives with his older sister a few floors above Alex and Teddy. In turn, Derek learns Alex is 18, that she's sorting out her life after a few rather tumultuous years back in Britain, and that she has no idea what she wants to do in the future. They talk hobbies, film, TV, and music preferences, Alex's experiences and misadventures as Teddy's sole caretaker, and it's pleasant. A little awkward at times, but it's to be expected, and Alex is determined not to let it bother her.
Eventually, however, they finish their food, and Teddy grows restless in his highchair. Derek pays the bill, Alex insists on paying it next time, and once Teddy is wiped clean, he's placed in his carrier. They exit the cafe, retrace their steps to their building, and chat idly about their respective plans for the rest of the day, about the weather, about the people passing them by.
"Did you want to meet up again next weekend?" Derek asks in the elevator of their building, "We can do the tourist thing."
"That sounds great," Alex replies. The lift slows to a stop on her floor, and they both exit into the hallway beyond, "It gives me something to look forward to."
"Same," Derek concurs.
They part ways at her door, and inside her flat, Alex rocks Teddy to sleep in a daze. She'd not dared to hope brunch would go so well, but it had, and moreover, they'd plans for the following weekend, and also to stay in touch throughout the week.
She sets her slumbering godson down in his portable cot, and wonders if it's too good to be true.
She hopes it isn't.
-!- -#-
Chapter Four:
The Beckett Centre is a mental health and wellness facility located in the magical sector of Manhattan. It caters to a range of psychological illnesses, caused by genetics, by physical, magical, or emotional trauma, by addiction and substance abuse and the like, and Alex has been a patient since her first week in New York.
Thus far, the treatment has served her well. By no means has she moved beyond her issues - that, she has been reliably informed, will take time, effort, and patience - but she's at least identified and understood them, and it's better than anything anyone in Britain had provided her.
The thought still makes Alex grimace with distaste, bitter and disappointed and angry. There is far more to her homeland than the magical world - history and culture and a heritage she could and would never leave behind - but her time in Magical Britain had bowed and bent and broken her, had chewed her up and spat her out, and some days - most days, if she's honest with herself - it's difficult for Alex to look beyond all of the hurt and pain and suffering she'd endured there.
That said, she's not angry. Not really. Mostly, Alex is just tired - tired and sad - and she occasionally wonders if she'll ever be able to look back upon her time in Magical Britain with any sort of fondness, but it's not something she spends a great deal of time worrying over. Her life is in the United States now, her future is bright - brighter than it has been, in any case - and Alex has no desire to dwell on the things - Magical Britain's failings, specifically - she can't change.
"How have you been since I saw you last?" Alex's therapist, Dr Ana Lopez, asks. She's short and curvy, with an office done up in colours of soft creams, with accents of earthy green and brown. SHe's in her early 30's, patient and practical and professional, and despite her initial reluctance to seek help for herself, Alex has grown to like her.
"I've been good," she replies. It's only been three nights since her Friday morning appointment, but she hasn't had any flashbacks, hasn't spent her weekend in bed, consumed by her depression or anxiety or both. Her nightmares are as they've always been, she's still exhausted, still prone to dwelling on those whom she'd lost, but as she reflects on her answer, she's pleased to find she genuinely means it, "It's been an eventful weekend."
"Has it?"
Ana tips her head curiously, her pen poised over her notepad. Her chandelier earrings, extravagant and rather uncomfortable looking, jostle in the quiet room, but neither of them pay the jewellery any heed.
Instead, Alex glances briefly at Teddy, who is sprawled contentedly on a mat she'd brought from home. He's just about grown out of his mobile, but he's quite happily absorbed in his teething ring, frequently diverted by the bright colours of the mat beneath him, and kept from wandering off by a gentle perimeter charm. She smiles at the sight of him, all milkteeth grins and baby laughs, but returns her attention to Ana a moment later, her smile turned sheepish.
"I met my soulmate on Saturday," she admits, "It turns out he lives in my building."
Ana's surprise is obvious. The discovery of a soulmate is one of those things that happen with regularity - to friends, relatives, acquaintances, colleagues - but regardless, revelations and announcements concerning the matter never fail to be met with surprise and/or emotional outbursts and what have you. In that vein, they're much like engagement and baby announcements, or occasionally, like death notices, and Alex supposes she ought to get used to it. Ana's just the second in a long line of people to be informed, after all.
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
Alex does so. She explains the circumstances, the initial meeting and their resulting interaction, and Ana listens attentively, expression impassive. She asks about Alex's thoughts and feelings during the encounter, queries the reasons behind her decisions, and then asks if she still believes she'd made the right choice.
After some thought, Alex nods. "I am. I think intimacy is rather beyond me at the moment - emotional and physical both - and myself aside, I think he has his own issues to overcome, too."
Ana nods, satisfied with her answer. "With how you two have been honest about where you both stand, I think you've gotten off to a good start."
Alex smiles awkwardly, unsure of how to respond to a statement like that. It's nice to have her decision validated by a mental health professional, but the implication that she and Derek's brunch conversation was only the start of something - something ephemeral and a little unreal - makes her nervous.
Ana is preoccupied with her notebook, and doesn't notice. Alex leaves her to it, pulls faces at her godson as her therapist takes notes. Ana draws her back to their session, however, and over the next half hour, they cover the contents of Alex's nightmares, her thoughts and feelings behind them, their impact on her mental and emotional equilibrium. It's draining - the sessions always are - but by the end of it, Alex has facts, observations, and questions to consider, new goals for the week, and a confirmation of their appointment on Wednesday.
"Take care of yourself," Ana bids in the doorway of her office. She waves at Teddy, who coos in response, and Alex turns her feet towards the waiting room, thoughts already on her next appointment.
"I will. Thank you for your time."
"That's what I'm here for," Ana replies lightly, "And I'm only a phone call away if you need me."
"I know," Alex offers her a soft, sincere smile, "And I appreciate it. More than I can say, really."
They part ways, and once she's paid the requisite fee for her session with Ana, Alex leaves the Beckett Centre, certain to avoid the stream of patients and clients lingering before, after, or between wellness classes, group therapy sessions and the like. The Centre offers all of the above, but although the option is available for her, Alex is yet to partake in the amenities and services provided. SHe's not ready for that sort of exposure and scrutiny.
Perhaps she never will be.
-!- -#-
Apparation is illegal in New York City, as it is in London, Tokyo, and all of the other major cities across the globe. There are too many people and too many cameras, and even one incident of exposure would threaten the Statute of Secrecy in ways no one dares to even consider, never mind cares to endure. As such, portkeys and broomsticks are similarly restricted, and because her flat isn't connected to the floo network, Alex makes do with the New York subway system.
Mercifully, it's an uneventful journey home, spent avoiding eye contact with her fellow passengers, entertaining Teddy in his carrier, frequently checking for threats to she and Teddy's wellbeing. She's tired though, wearied by the session with Dr Cortez, and by the meeting she'd had with the goblins shortly thereafter.
It's a relief, therefore, to reach her flat, to relax in the comfort and safety of their warded home. Once she feeds Teddy, and leaves him to play on the rug, Alex passes the time with a novel, with a cup of tea, with an ongoing, sporadic text conversation with Derek about their respective days, about places Alex has visited - or would like to visit - in the city, about quality restaurants in the area and food and dinner plans. She informs him they haven't any, Derek invites her to join he and his sister that evening, and that's how Alex winds up meeting Laura Hale.