Chapter 8: The No-Show

"Hey, good afternoon," Joe addressed Scott when he finally tumbled downstairs the next day. Sunday was the only day of the week Joe bothered with real breakfast, usually a cup of coffee kept her going until lunch, but now she was busy making pancakes. Scott did not even look at her, just plopped down by the table without a word. She made a face. "Okay, I admit that was a little too dad-joke even for me. Besides, who am I to call the kettle black, right? If I could sleep until 1PM every day, I would, ya know?"

It was hard to tell with all the hair hanging in his face, but she thought he rolled his eyes. Bad case of morning moodyness, she decided, and poured him a glass of OJ. He did not touch it and Joe raised an eyebrow as she turned back to the stove.

"So you never told me how that History-test went," Joe prompted and flipped a pancake. "Or that Chem-paper." The deafening silence told her all she needed. "Fine, but you know it's parents-teacher conferences tomorrow. Aunt Mel is gonna find out anyway." Joe began stacking pancakes on a plate. "How many do you want?"

Scott's chair screeched as he got up from the table. "You know what, I'm not hungry."

"But it's pancakes!" Joe held the frying pan up so he could see. "You love pancakes!" She watched him trudge back upstairs with an angry frown between his brows. "I'm sorry I asked about your grades!" Joe leaned out of the kitchen to shout: "It's coming from a place of love!"

He slammed the door to his room shut.

That might have been more than morning grumpiness. Looks like the Delgado-temper hadn't skipped Scott after all. Weird though. He'd been open about his poor grades before. Scott'd never been more than a B-student at best, and usually a C-average. This year though he was really falling behind, but it was not that far along in the semester that it couldn't be fixed. Hopefully meeting with his teacher tomorrow would be a wake-up call.

Hopefully he could spend a little more time studying and a little less time running in the woods with Derek Hale. She could still not wrap her head around that one. No point in asking Scott about it, he still claimed they were werewolves and Derek was helping him somehow. And, no matter which way Joe looked at it, that did not sound like the basis of a healthy functional friendship, shared delusions or not. Her best bet was still on drugs, but it was hard to fathom that Scott would be that stupid.

Or, y'know, Derek had a thing for young teenage boys. Always a possibility.

Joe poured herself a cup of coffee and nibbled on a pancake. She had made far too many, having factored in Scott's teenage metabolism, and it just wasn't the same eating them alone. Luckily for her, a figure appeared at the backdoor, and she only needed to see his twitchy silhouette through the lace curtains to recognize Stiles. She unlocked the door to let him in.

"Ooh, pancakes!"

Two large plates of pancakes later, Stiles was working on a third and waving his fork around while he explained just how many 2008 Nissan Sentras there were in California. "It won some sort of ranking on the best affordable car for college students the year it came out. The dealerships couldn't keep ut with the orders." He chewed with an open mouth. "Not green one-sh in particular, but Sh-entras."

"So we're probably looking for a younger person," Joe reasoned from a safe distance from Stiles' occasional pancake spray. "No way of narrowing it to county?"

He shook his head and stabbed another pancake piece that he dragged through syrup before popping it in his mouth. "The public listings were by state only, and I had to pay a 3 dollar fee to access it." Stiles' chewed and swallowed thickly. "I could ask my dad, but then there'd be questions and, y'know, stuff."

Joe let out a puff of air. "Well, if we could hack the police database and access to the CCTV-footage from across the street, we should be able to determine if the car was at the video store."

"That's a great idea!" Stiles' eyes bugged and he chewed faster still. "You know how?"

"No." She shrugged at the tired look he sent her. "I said if." Tapping her fingers on her arm, she remembered something. "It's probably just a coincidence, but..."

"But?"

"I sort of got an e-mail about the attack at the video store. That's the reason I went out there."

Stiles' brows were furrowed and he held both his utensils out to ask: "From who?"

"That's sort of the thing. It didn't have a sender."

She waited until he completed a full series of disbelieving body movements. Stiles communicated with his whole person. "So you were the target!"

"It could just be a coincidence!"

"Heck of a coincidence! Any other coincidences you have forgotten? Strange phone calls? Suspicious notes in the mail?" Stiles blinked in an exaggerated manner. "That was textbook set-up and you walked straight into it, baby." He deflated and mumbled: "Sorry."

She'd sent him a withering glare for the "baby". He might have outgrown her in height, but she was still an adult and he was in high-school. No need to forget about that. Even so, he had a point. She half-contemplated coming clean about the mysterious package of police files delivered on their doorstep. With his dad being the Sheriff it might not be such a good idea however. There was no doubt a connection though. Had the files been a set-up too? Was her benefactor in fact not that beneficial?

Stiles waved his hand in front of her face. "Hello? Earth to Joe?"

Her train of thoughts derailed into something that she could not help but feel was connected."What's going on with Scott? And don't start with this werewolf-bullshit."

"Uhhh..." The prolonged hesitation grew in volume and he rubbed the short hair of his scalp frantically. "Ehm..." He stared at the ceiling for more answers, found none, and returned to Joe. "Well..."

"Jesus Christ, Stiles, I know you're covering for him," Joe said with a roll of her eyes. "I just need to know how bad it is."

"Oh, it's not that bad. Not - uh - life threatening in any way. Or illegal."

"It's illegal?" Joe burst out and Stiles recoiled from her intensity, slithering away from his chair.

"No! I said it wasn't! Not illegal!"

"Your dad's in the police!"

"Whoa, hey, let's not bring my dad into this!" Stiles seemed to think and retracted a bit. "Not that it in fact matters as this is not in fact illegal."

"Stiles, my God, you're the worst liar in the world!" Joe threw her hands up and he practically fell backwards over the couch. She followed him as he tried to crabwalk over to the other couch. "What - is - going - on? Why can't you tell me?"

"Steroids!"

He could just as well have suckerpunched her. Joe's mouth fell open, as did her disbelieving eyes. No chance of forming any other thoughts or words than: "What?!"

"Steroids! Scott's on steroids!" Stiles exclaimed with a panicked expression. His eyes were wild. "Not a lot of steroids! Just a little bit of steroids." Stiles pinched his fingers together to show how little. "Just to help him with the try-outs."

Joe's brain seemed to scream at her and she put both arms over her head. "Derek's been selling steroids to Scott?"

"No! No, no, not at all! Derek's...Derek's helping Scott...to quit...steroids." Stiles struggled with getting the words in place, but Joe was too far in her own mind to notice. Steroids. Scott was on steroids. And Derek was helping him quit?

"He's just trying to look out for Scott," Joe mumbled to herself, paraphrasing Derek's own words from before. It made a weird sort of sense, except from where she fit in.

"Yeah, exactly! That's what all the running in the woods is about. Healthy, fresh air and - uh - detoxing the system and all!" Stiles gained momentum now that the truth was out. "Derek used to have a problem himself, y'know, when he was in school and then he found out about this steroids-thing in the lacrosse team and he couldn't look away, y'know? Heart of gold, and all..."

"Does the school know?" Joe asked. It did not make sense that the school knew and they hadn't been informed. "Aunt Mel?" Unless Aunt Mel had hid it from Joe, of course, which was unlikely, but not impossible. "What ab-"

"No, it never got that far," he said in a tiny voice. He propped himself up on the couch instead of sprawling like a starfish. "It's under control, now, actually. Wouldn't worry about. Or tell your aunt. Or my dad."

"Are you sure? That it's under control? I just can't believe he didn't tell me. I mean, he knows I...he knows everything about me," Joe muttered and stared at the chair Scott had left abruptly just an hour earlier. It fit. With the mood-swings, difficulties to concentrate, the abruptly altered physique made evident at the lacrosse game. "I should go talk to him and apologize for-"

"No!" Stiles slung himself across the other couch to grab at her sweatshirt. "He's super embarrassed about it!" Her fuzzy socks skidded on the hardwood floor as he held her in place. "And, y'know, he'll know I told you and he'd never forgive me."

Joe relented and sat down on the back of the couch. "Right." All the signs had been there, staring straight at her. Steroids. Jesus. All she knew about steroids was from back east at her old high-school where some of the guys on the wrestling team was caught getting jacked. Did you get addicted to steroids? Or just addicted to the results of steroids?

"I just can't believe he wouldn't tell me something like that," Joe whispered again, as if admitting it out loud would make it hurt less. "I mean, I knew lacrosse was important to him and all, but not like this!" She peered at Stiles, trying to gauge if his skinny build had changed lately. "You're not...?"

Stiles laughed and kissed his non-existent biceps. "No! These are au naturel, baby." His smile disappeared. "Sorry. Again."

"And Derek...if he's just trying to help Scott out, I owe him an apology." Joe stared out into thin air, both hands on the knees of her checkered pajama pants. "I just thought he was the biggest creep ever!"

"Yeah, well, he does have that whole creep-vibe going for him," Stiles agreed.

"But...you said he used to have a problem. Derek's not on steroids now?" Joe asked, with the vivid memory of last night where he jumped from a roof to a car and then somehow backflipped onto the ground again. Without breaking a sweat, let alone a bone."Wow."

Stiles shrugged from his place in the couch. "Yup. Wow."

Sometimes Joe had to type things into her search bar that she had the urge to follow up with "just for research purposes I swear, don't arrest me". Steroids was definitely in that category. Stiles had eventually sidled up to Scott's room after making Joe promise she wouldn't reveal that she knew the truth to Scott. It was a hard promise to both make and keep, she wanted nothing more than to stomp upstairs and have a real heart-to-heart with her baby cousin. And keeping it from Aunt Mel? Ugh. The worst.

In lieu of said heart-to-heart, she did what she already knew — researched. She found it all. Pamphlets from public health services, how-to guides, history of common drug use in the pre-war Olympics, advertisements, academic papers on the long-term effect...everything available just a few clicks away.

Apparently it was injected by needles, and Joe knew Scott hated getting even his flue shot, so he must have been really desperate. It did not appear to be particularly addicitive, at least not physically, but could develop into disordered use reminiscent of an eating disorder. Addicted to the gains, so to speak. It did not sit right with her to just let it slide with Scott, but either she had to catch him in the act or she had to betray Stiles, who had confessed under pressure. All she could do now was keep an eye on him.

On a whim, she added another keyword to the search: 'werewolf'. If Derek Hale had been on steroids in high school and Jimmy Carter was convinced he saw Derek 'change', could there be a link somehow? The search did not seem to lead anywhere. All she found was a forum post by user 'Player-No-1', who asked if there was a kind of performance enhancing drug called something like 'werewolf'. None of the replies seemed helpful.

Speaking of Jimmy Carter...

Joe tapped her fingers on her keyboard. She had not given the reporter turned blogger much thought after he had kicked her out. He had posted about the various happenings in Beacon Hills of course, but nothing that caught her eye as anything sensational. Joe just wondered what kind of car Mr. Carter drove. Stiles had said the car was top-selling among college students in 2008 and Jimmy Carter had been a college student in 2008.

"How to look up cars registered to person," she mumbled out loud as she typed the same words into the allmighty search engine. It was hard to find a list of everyone who had ever bought a Nissan Sentra, but if you had an address or a name, then maybe...A bit of scrolling later, she found a forum discussing how an insurance agency listed all cars belonging to an address when trying to give you a quote. Heart hammering, she entered Jimmy Carter's downtown apartment. Nothing.

She tapped her fingers again.

A quick detour to the yellow pages and then she tried his parents' house instead. 2008 Nissan Sentra, color: green.

Gotcha.

Aunt Mel raised her eyebrows high over her cup of coffee when Joe came downstairs the next morning. It was not often any of them got up earlier than they had to. Aunt Mel seemed to smirk behind her cup. "Good morning. You're up early. Are you wearing jeans?"

"Uh..." Joe looked down at her attire. She had foregone her usual combo of an oversized sweatshirt and black leggings for actual jeans and a slightly fancier sweatshirt. Apparently she looked like such a wreck most of the time the bar was low for impressing Aunt Mel. "Yes."

"Looks good," she said with a wink. Aunt Mel poured Joe a cup of coffee and slid it over the counter to her. "What's his name?"

Joe ruffled through her backpack, made sure her taser was charged and ready. "Whose name?"

"The guy you're seeing today?"

"Jimmy. Why?" Joe checked her cell-phone, it had a full battery, handy in case she had to call for backup. Because she lost her original phone and did not have the funds to replace it, she also had to bring her old-school audio recorder.

Aunt Mel smiled even wider and put her empty cup in the sink. She was already dressed in her scrubs and hooked her purse over her shoulder. "Well, say hi to Jimmy from me."

"Sure," Joe replied absentmindedly. She wished she had a spy-cam too. Gathering evidence was just as important as getting answers. Aunt Mel called out a goodbye and the front door slammed shut. It was really early, but a necessary evil to catch Mr. Carter off guard.

"I'm leaving!" she called from the hallway, hoping to rouse Scott from his slumber. "Don't oversleep!"

Grumble, tossing, and a muffled: "I won't!"

Satisfied, she got in her car and headed downtown. Because Carter obviously knew what kind of car she drove, she parked near the public library (free parking), and headed towards his apartment on foot. One thing these ugly old-school military boots had going for them — they were really comfortable to walk in.

She reached the front door of his building and shifted her backpack to the front while pretending to search frantically through it. This early in the morning, there were bound to be someone in the building leaving for work. Sure enough, within fifteen minutes, a man came rushing out the door with a briefcase in tow. They smiled at each other and the second he was out the door, Joe shoved her foot inside the entrance to stop it from closing. Oh yes, multi-purpose boots.

They were not sturdy enough to kick in a door, though, even if her rising adrenaline made it tempting. She stomped over to Carter's door and kicked heavily at the doorframe in rhythm with her beating fist.

"Carter!" she shouted and kicked again. "Open up, asshole! We need to talk!"

No response. With her blood boiling, she pressed her ear to the doorblade and listened for any movement inside. He might be out, of course, but Jimmy Carter struck her as the kind of guy who did not leave his apartment unless he had to. No sounds whatsoever.

"I know you followed me the other night! I just wanna talk!" Joe called again, tempted to cross her fingers behind her back. She wanted to do more than just talk. "I'm not going away! If you don't open up I'll just keep shouting!"

Nothing.

"Fine!"

She gave the door another kick, while her adrenaline still ran hot, and plopped down in front of the door with her backpack. Either he wasn't in or he was just trying to wait until she left. No matter, she had plenty of time. Joe opened up her laptop, got out all her notes on Jimmy Carter AKA Claudis Verity and began typing.

After fifteen minutes, she expected to hear some careful shuffling from inside. That's how long she would have waited to check if the other person was still there. No noise from inside. He might have more patience than her - or a higher level of paranoia. Fifteen more minutes passed, and still deadly quiet from the other side of the door. She wondered how thick the walls were or if the door was extra soundproof. When walking over, she had made sure there weren't any convenient fire escapes attached to his window. It was just the standard fold-out ladder that required a better physique than Jimmy's to climb down and would anyway most likely result in broken ankles, an acceptable sacrifice for not dying in a fire of course.

Hours passed without a sound from the other side of the door. She had finished both her thermos of coffee, and now sipped carefully from the water bottle to avoid any unnecessary bathroom breaks. Joe could sit her all day if she needed to. Once upon a time, she had played the same game with her dad, but then she had been the one locked inside of course.

Eventually people started coming back from work. Some gave her curious glances as they passed her in the hallway, where she had practically set up camp with her laptop outside Jimmy Carter's door. No-one said anything, and Joe got the feeling that this was nothing compared to the other weirdness associated with Jimmy. By now, she half-expected someone to come up to her and ask if she didn't know that Jimmy was on holiday or something. No-one did.

With the general commotion of people trudging up the stairwell, talking on their phone or rustling with groceries, she almost missed the tell-tale sound of a peephole cover sliding to the side. Fisheye or not, he would definitely not spot her on the floor. She braced herself, waiting for the locks to click open as he would probably want to get a better look if the hall was clear. That's what she would do. As expected, she heard one of the locks slooowly open with a barely discernable click.

Just then another neighbor — a woman in her late forties, maybe, who had the harassed look of someone always wanting to see the manager — came up the stairs and stopped squarely in front of Joe. Joe swore under her breath.

"What are you doing? This is private property!" the woman demanded and placed both fists on her hips. Something about her just screamed landlord representative, offical or otherwise. "You don't live here!"

"God damn it," Joe swore again as the first lock on Jimmy's door snapped shut again. She got up from her position on the floor, to avoid having the imposing woman tower over her. Her legs ached and tingled from sitting on the hard lineloum for so long. "I'm waiting for Jimmy."

"Jimmy? Do you mean James Carter? Well, he lives right there!" the woman said and indicated the door, as if Joe was an idiot for sitting outside it all this time. "Is he out? Did you try knocking?" Instead of waiting for an answer, the woman pushed Joe to the side and let her own pudgy fist hammer against the metal. "Mr. Carter? Mr. Carter! You have a guest!"

Joe sighed and pushed back her curls. She had almost had him! Staring staight into the tiny peephole in the door, she decided to humor the woman: "Hey, Jimmy! It's Joe, from Berkely!" Maybe mentioning the college would gain her some favors with the woman she could not help but nickname as Karen in her mind. "You in there, buddy?"

A faint shadow flickered behind the peephole glass and she grimaced. Coward.

"Well, that is unusual!" the woman huffed. The exortion of banging on his door left her out of breath. "I thought I saw his car in the garage, but maybe he's out for a walk?" Both of them paused at the unlikely image of Jimmy Carter taking a stroll through the city. "Oh, well. I'll let you know you stopped by, Miss... Joe, was it?"

"You know what? I'll just write him a note and slip under the door," Joe said and got her notebook out. At the same time, she noticed several missed calls from Aunt Mel. Her phone had been on silent to avoid detection by Jimmy. Karen waited patiently for Joe to scribble down a few short words. While she did, her phone blinked several times when Aunt Melissa tried calling again.

Joe gave Karen a polite smile, as if the woman had not busted her eight hour stakeout, and shoved the piece of paper under Jimmy Carter's front door. It said: "WE NEED TO TALK!" with several underlines and then listed her phone number, a fact she might regret if he turned out to be a psycho stalker. On the bright side, if he was, he probably had her number already.

"Thanks," she bit out to Karen who escorted her to the building's front door. Her phone rang again, still Aunt Melissa, and she picked up the second she was outside of hearing range from Karen. Joe started to walk down the street, glanced behind her to see Karen had left, and then backtracked to the side of the building so she could see Jimmy's windows.

"Hello? Sorry, I've had my phone on m-"

"Joe? Joe! Have you seen Scott?" Aunt Melissa sounded frantic over the phone. A lot of rustling in the background, as if she had the phone wedged between her ear and shoulder while multi-tasking. "I've called him over and over and he's not picking up! The parent-teacher conferences are in an hour and I need to make sure he's there! Are you home? Is he there?"

"I'm still out," Joe answered and checked the clock on her phone. Above her, the shades twitched in Jimmy's living room window. "You're sure he's not at practice or...?"

"Well, I called the school and they said he was a no-show today!" Aunt Melissa let out a laugh that bordered on desparation. "So I'm freaking out, okay? Can you go home, see if he's there? Or-or-or if he's at Stiles or that girl he's seeing, and tell him to answer his freaking phone before I ground him for the rest of his-"

"Okay, okay, okay!" Joe tried to calm her aunt down. She grimaced and gave Jimmy's windows a wave before starting the trek to her car. "I'll go find him, no problem."

Her aunt thanked her profusely while Joe tried to evade any gratitude. The knot in her stomach grew with each step closer to the Ford. She wanted nothing more than to tell Aunt Mel about Stiles' revelation from yesterday. She knew she shouldn't have ignored it! Skipping school the same day as parent-teacher conferences? Come on, Scott! Steroids was supposed to increase muscle gain, but apparently didn't consider the brain a muscle!

Their house was empty, where only the dirty cereal dish in the sink indicated he had been there after she and Aunt Mel left. Whenever she tried calling, it went straight to voicemail. Either his phone died — or he had turned it off. Next was the Stilinskis', but no-one was home. Stiles' Jeep wasn't in the driveway, and Stiles himself wasn't picking up his phone either.

"Oh come on!" she grumbled and jumped back into her car for the third time. Would he be at Derek Hale's house? No, wait, her aunt had mentioned that girl he was seeing. Allison Argent. Joe called the operator to get an address, who could find a listing for Argent Arms International in Beacon Hills and Joe decided it was worth a shot. The address did lead her to a stately house in one of the better neighborhoods and she recognized the pick-up Allison's father drove sitting in the driveway.

Which was why she had expected the senior Argent to answer the door when she rang, not this blonde bombshell somewhere in her late twenties. She looked too young to be Allison's mother, and too old to be her sister, and Joe furrowed her brows.

"Uhh...is this the Argent-household?" she asked and tried to lean backwards to see if there was any sign by the side of the door.

"It depends," the woman said, but with a friendly smile to indicate she was halfway joking. "Who's asking?"

Joe laughed, a bit embarrassed for being so spaced out. "Sorry. I'm Joe Delgado, I was looking for Allison. Or, I was looking for Scott, but I was hoping Allison might know where he is." The woman's brows were drawn together and Joe tried to smile even wider. "Sorry, again, I'm Scott's cousin."

"Oh!" the woman exclaimed and hung a bit on the doorframe. "I was curious, 'cause he never mentioned a sister and I couldn't help but notice you have those same adorable brown eyes." She straightened up and indicated herself with a wink. "I'm Kate. Argent, in case you were wondering if you got the wrong house. I'm Allison's aunt."

"Right," Joe said and they both laughed easily, clearing up the confusion on either side. "So, uh, is Scott here? Or Allison, for that matter?"

"Um, no, not yet," Kate said and smiled again. She had perfect teeth, and looked ten times more polished than Joe felt, even in her jeans. Kate wore a tight-fitting top with cut-out details and a pair of jeans that might as well have been painted onto her body. "You wanna wait inside? I just made a fresh pot of coffee."

"Yeah, sure." Figuring this was the place he was most likely to turn up, she accepted the offer. Fresh coffee sounded amazing too. She followed Kate inside and marvelled at the interiors of the house. It was just as elegant inside as outside.

"Sorry about the mess," Kate said and laughed. "It's not messy, I know, but my sister in law always apologizes for the state of the house and I thought I couldn't let her down when I was playing hostess in her place. Come on, kitchen's through here."

Joe had never lived a place where the kitchen, dining area and living room were separate rooms. The living room didn't even have a TV, which indicated another TV-room somewhere else in the house. Kate placed two cups on the granite kitchen island and gestured for Joe to sit down on the bar stool.

"Okay, so I don't usually do this too much, but my mom always served some sort of homemade cookies when we had guests." Kate's voice was muffled from where she rummaged through a cupboard by the fridge. "And I can't find cookies, homemade or not, so..." She popped back up with a package of miniature peanut butter cups. "This is the best I can do."

"Caffeine and sugar? You are spoiling me," Joe said in approval and helped herself to a couple of the chocolatey goodies. She smiled to show her sincere gratitude. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Kate said and waved her hand to replicate a Southern housewife. She sat down opposite Joe and cradled her cup of coffee. "So, Scott's cousin. What's your deal?"

"Uh, I'm a grad student at UC Berkely," Joe explained. "I'm getting my PhD in human behavior."

Kate raised her eyebrows. "Grad student? What? How old are you?"

"Twenty-three," Joe admitted, an usual low age for the PhD-program. "I - uh - had a heavy study load the first years."

"I'll bet! So, you're a prodigy..." Kate smiled again, so infectious that Joe couldn't help but blush at the praise. "Human behaviour, huh? Like a shrink?"

Joe shook her head and tried to explain. Patterns, cycles, how hive minds affected people in ways they didn't think of... She tried to keep it short, but usually people only asked about her field of study to be polite, whearas Kate seemed to be genuinly interested. They were both on their second cup of coffee, where Joe had done almost 90% of the talking, when Joe noticed Kate looking over her shoulder. Turning around, she saw Allison's father standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and a disapproving frown.

"Chris!" Kate said with a bit forced enthusiasm. "Come meet Joe, Scott's cousin."

Chris Argent entered the kitchen slowly, to stand on the far edge of the kitchen island. He gave Joe a tight smile. "So you're Scott's cousin?" At her nod, he made a half-shrug and addressed Kate. "We've already met, you see, didn't know she was related to Scott." Joe could see the family resemblance between the pair and recognized the non-verbal communication between siblings where Chris was trying to get something across to Kate without saying anything. He turned back to Joe. "Aren't you one of Derek Hale's friends?"

For some reason, Kate's head swung towards Joe with rapid interest. Joe shrugged. "I wouldn't say we're friends."

"But you know him?" Kate leaned over the counter, an almost calculating look in her eyes. If Joe thought Kate had seemed interested before, she seemed absolutely fascinated now.

"I know of him," Joe corrected, without really knowing why.

Chris asked: "You went to school together?"

"No, I went to high school back in New York," she said and smiled, hoping he would be more friendly if he realized they had some common ground. His accent was also faintly New York. It didn't seem to make any difference.

"So how do you know him? Know of him, sorry," Kate asked and tilted her head. It was like being measured up by a tiger, if pouncing on her would be worth the effort.

"He - uh - helped me out when I had car trouble," Joe said, not a complete lie. The events from the gas station came back, along with the smashed window and Chris Argent's obvious hostility. Admitting any familiarity with Derek Hale would not do her any favors. She shrugged like she was just a helpless clueless girl. "Bad starter, stuck gear? Or something. I don't know."

She checked her phone and realized it was getting dangerously close to when Scott needed to be at the school. "Uhm, looks like Scott's not coming. I should get back home, in case something's wrong with his phone."

"Scott's missing?" Chris Argent cocked an eyebrow and between the pair of them, Joe wanted to shrink and disappear into the ground.

Joe eased herself down from the bar stool and grabbed her backpack. "Not missing, exactly, he's just not answering his phone. Probably forgot to charge it or...something." She nodded to Kate, who had done a complete personality change when her brother arrived. "Nice meeting you...both." Chris Argent did not return her smile.

Kate snapped out of her acute attentiveness and darted around the kitchen island. "I'll walk you out."

Joe was aware her shoulders were so tense they could serve as ear-warmers, and Kate seemed to notice too. She walked Joe back to the front door and sighed.

"Sorry about that. My brother's..." she pointed her thumb in the direction of the kitchen and lowered her voice. "He's a control freak. He's not really onboard with the whole Allison's dating Scott-thing. Don't take it personal."

"Oh, no, don't worry about it," Joe feigned nonchalance. Scott had not seemed to be the problem, not compared to Derek Hale. The question of how Kate knew Derek was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it. "I should really get going."

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Hey, listen, I don't really know too many girls my own age here and I love Allison, but the high school drama can sometimes get a little monotone," Kate said and opened the door for her. It was getting dark outside and the outdoor lights cast Kate in a golden glow. "You wanna get coffee sometime? Like, at a coffee shop? I promise I'll be less weird."

"Uh, yeah, sure. I have a really tight schedule though..." Joe agreed before she could think it through. Kate had been very nice before Chris came along. And Joe didn't know many girls her age either, even if Kate just barely fit into the category. She was at least five years older. "But I'm sure we can make it work."

Kate's face split into a huge grin. "Awesome! Say hi to Scott for me! And drive safe!"

Joe nodded and made a motion to indicate that she would. Kate stayed in the doorway until Joe drove off. Almost a mile down the road, Joe finally took her first proper breath in a while and leaned against the seat. Why would an international arms dealer have a problem with Derek Hale?

And where was Scott?

It's a two chapters kind of week, in honour of Rayne91's awesome review :)

A guest asked about Derek's age in this story and I forgot to answer earlier. Now Joe revealed herself to be 23 in this chapter, and I have estimated Derek to be either 23 or 24 in the first season too. For the record, I'd say Kate would be around 28, at least closer to 30.

So yeah, please leave a review telling me what you think. I love feedback about the plot, my OCs or if you think I'm writing the show's characters really OOC. Derek is really hard to write, because he's a man of few words and subtle expressions. He's either angry or confused in the first season, and kinda awkward in some of his interactions (and I love him so much).