Isaac had taken her back to his place - or what she assumed was his house - and set her down on the couch in the living room. The rest of that day was a blank to her, consumed in her own thoughts. She was torn between holding it together and tearing apart at the seams. She's always torn. Between control and chaos; passion and tranquility. Between what's fated and what she wanted. She couldn't make a choice between chaos and control. Not because it had been made for her. But because there was no choice to make. It wasn't one or the other. They were both inside her. They were both a part of her. She was nothing without both sides. Take one away and she would fall. Part of her longed to take the plunge, to dive off headfirst and let the feeling of control evaporate on the wind. And part of her wants to be in a place where she'd never have to worry about that choice-or any choice, for that matter. Where peace and calm are the only things she'd feel.

Death was the only place she knew of where she could find peace and calm.

And it wasn't looking like such a bad idea anymore.

The thought filled her with grief, grief for the dreams they'd shared, for the love she'd felt, for the hopeful girl she would never be again. The tears that had threatened to overflow finally did, coursing down her cheeks, staining any and everything in their path.

Isaac didn't bother her, but he did keep a close eye on her, though. She didn't mind. It was nice to know someone was watching out for her.

She lost track of the time, Isaac sitting down next to her.

"You should eat something."

Automatic response.

"I'm not hungry."

Isaac let out a soft sigh. Derek had been right - she was stubborn beyond belief.

Claire just sat there, barely moving an inch on the couch. Derek's face would always be implanted into her memory. His face, the way his eyes saw right through her and his smile, the crooked smile that was reserved just for her. She wouldn't forget the protectiveness, either. She appreciated his protection, of course, but she was not sure if she wanted to be looked at... as if she were fragile. A thing to hold gingerly, as one holds a delicate rose, careful not to bump its silken petals lest they should spill to the floor.

Tears flowed freely again and this time, Claire did nothing to stop them. Isaac didn't either. He'd learned that when the heart is cut open, it's best to let it out before trying to sew it back together.

Time - and all the events held therein - plays out as it must. We cannot impose our will on it. The only true measure of strength is our ability to bear that which time demands.

Time.

Time was a bitch, he concluded.

Healing's not always natural. Healing's not always the way a body wants to go. Sometimes the body wants to run. Sometimes it can't think of anything but what might stop the pain. And though stopping the pain's important if you want a body healing, it isn't the whole. Sometimes that just keeps you broke.

Your life is a lot bigger than this moment. You need to remember that you can't let the trials you face right now derail your course forever. Her mind told her. She needed to find the other Alphas and take them down - it's what Derek was planning before he ... oh she couldn't say the word. What was the point of finding something worth living for in her life was no longer in her own hands? She couldn't hold Derek, tell him that she was sorry. She couldn't do any of those things.

Claire sniffed, trying to wipe her eyes as best she could. She failed, miserably.

"Isaac, can- can I ask you something?"

Isaac looked up from the spot on the floor that he'd been concentrating on and nodded.

His heart broke for her when she looked at him. "Can you stay... with me?"

"Of course." Isaac pulled the blanket off the top of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders as he pulled her against him. She snuggled up against his chest, his arm drapped lightly over her shoulders. There was nothing particularly intimate about the way they sat, but something about the scene made Isaac feel strange, like he'd heard an unpleasant statement and later forgotten everything about the words but the way they had made him feel.

Claire was asleep against him in moments, her restless thoughts taking her away.

She remembered when she was six and Derek had came over to her house after school, saw the cut just below her eye and nearly flipped his lid. He demanded that she tell him everything. And she did. She didn't know why she did, but she ended up spilling her guts to the seven year old.

The next day at school, the same thing happened. They thought Claire was strange, because her bat-shit-crazy father was in the local asylum and her mother was the local sheriff that was more sane than the rest of the department - and that made people question Claire. Was she crazy like her father or sane like her mother? Or a little bit of both? Sometimes, if she wanted to be alone, she'd pretend she was crazy just to scare the other kids.

Mrs. Hale was nearly always the one that came and talked the principal out of suspending her because her mother worked crazy shifts. Mrs. Hale could talk her way out of a wet paper bag. She was charming and gifted at making the best batch of chocolate chip cookies on the planet.

Before school was about to be let out, the bullies had come up to her again. But this time, Derek had stepped in, nearly crushing the six year old's wrist with his bare hand. She thought of him as a hero. The school didn't see her same view.

But still, Mrs. Hale charmed her way out of either of them being suspended or expelled.

At the age of sixteen, things hadn't gotten better. Her father was supposedly let out of the asylum because he was better.

Claire didn't think he was better.

She thought he was worse.

Her mother still worked crazy shifts so Claire was stuck home with her father.

That's when the abuse started.

Sometimes she spent more time at the Hale Manor than she did at her own home.

Her father beat her, bruised her, cut her with a knife. All the things a father wasn't supposed to do, he did it. And when she ran over to the Hale Manor and Mr. Hale answered the door, things went downhill. Mr. Hale had taken in her appearance and walked her back over to her house, confronting her father.

By the time Derek had gotten back home from school, Police and ambulances lined the street. Her mother had gotten the call and finally learned what her daughter had been keeping from her all this time. Derek saw his dad sitting next to her in the back of the ambulance and when he rushed over to her, she threw her arms around his neck and cried.

Mr. Hale had killed her father.

Not in cold blood.

But because he was protecting her.

Author's Note: A bittersweet chapter... with a bittersweet childhood flashback. Reviews are appreciated! And those of you that were a bit upset by the last chapter will be happy when the next chapter is posted! :)