Chapter 22: The Runaway
"...and it's like he vanished in thin air. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I tried calling the firm he worked for, and it says the number's disconnected. That's suspicious, right? It's not just me?"
Joe nodded and made a noise of confirmation.
"Right! So, maybe he's involved in some illegal medicine trading, it's not unheard of, and he split when he found out my ex-husband and brother works for the feds? At least that means he left because of him, not because of me or the fact that I skip gym almost half the times I sign up. I get it, a federal ex is a dealbreaker for a lot of guys, it's indimidating!"
"Also, he's then a criminal, so..."
"Yeah, well," Aunt Mel waved her hand to indicate how that was a minor issue compared to other things. "No one's perfect. When you get to be my age, you gotta be willing to deal with some dealbreakers."
Instead of answering, Joe took another large swig of the beer and stuffed her face with nachos to get rid of the beer taste. The generic romantic comedy kept rolling in the background, but Aunt Mel was more interested in dissecting where it all went wrong with her one-date-fiasco with Peter Hale. Joe drank more than she talked, afraid she would spill the beans to Aunt Mel, and then realized that was exactly what she risked if she got drunk.
"Oh thank God," Joe murmured when Scott rushed in the front door.
"Hey! You're late!" Aunt Mel called in her strict mom-voice and tapped her wristwatch. "Curfew was twenty minutes ago."
"Sorry," Scott said, clearly out of breath. Had he ran all the way here from the Argents or wherever he and Allison kept meeting? His face was flushed, but not really looking like he just came from a heavy make out-session. He swallowed. "Sorry. Uh, Joe, can you, uh, help me with-"
Scott swallowed again and gestured towards the stairs. "The homework for the, uh..."
"Sure!" Joe declared, glad of the reprieve, and handed Aunt Mel the bowl of doritos. Beer in hand, she followed the antsy Scott upstairs into his room. He shut the door after them and seemed to listen intently, probably making sure Aunt Mel hadn't followed them. Even Joe could hear the movie playing downstairs with the melody of some kind of makeover-scene. "What's up?"
Scott still had a wild-eyed look and paced around in his room. He rubbed the back of his neck intently. So jittery, it worried Joe. "Did something happen?"
"Yeah." He drummed the hands on his front thighs. "Yeah, something definitely happened." Seeming to catch his breath, he rubbed his head again. "If I tell you, will you promise to not freak out?"
"You're already freaking me out!" Joe exclaimed and tried to numb the feeling with another swig of beer. "What happened? Did you find the missing girl?"
He shook his head 'no'. Apparently Sheriff Stilinski had been called out on some sort of disturbance in a car after the funeral. Something attacked an ambulance and tore up a DOA - dead on arrival. "Some sort of homeless looking werewolf-guy. Derek called him an Omega."
"Wait, wait, wait, Derek was there?" Joe asked, struggling to keep up with Scott's erratic story telling. "But not the girl?"
"No, she was there too, but not at the beginning."
"So did she attack the ambulance?"
"No, the Omega did!" Scott exclaimed and gestured locations with his arm. "The ambulance attack was down by the edge of the Preserve, enroute to the hospital. Then I chased the Omega almost to the Hale House. Then he got caught in a trip wire-"
"Who's setting trip wires in the Preserve?"
"The Argents! And before I could get him down, the Argents are already there and they-"
"Did they try to catch you?"
"No, no, they didn't see us, because Derek tackled me to the side and they were too busy with the Omega-"
"Wait, when did Derek get there? And what's an Omega?"
"Oh my God, Joe, would you just let me finish? Derek was tracking the same Omega as me, and he saved me from the Argents when the Omega got caught in the trip wire. Then Allison's granddad shows up and he has a sword and he cuts the Omega in half!"
The near empty beer bottle slipped from Joe's hand. "I'm sorry, who did what? He decapitated him?"
"No! No, he used a sword and cut him in half at the waist. Allison's dad called it hemi-corpo-something."
"Hemicorporectomy," Joe corrected and flopped down into Scott's chair. "Are you sure? I mean did you see it?"
"Yes, I saw it!" Scott wailed and now tears were rimmed in his eyes. "I just saw a man get cut in half by my girlfriend's granddad!"
Joe rose without thinking and hugged Scott, staring wide-eyed behind him. How much strength would it take to chop someone in half at the waist? Through all that tissue and organs and spine? With a sword? Scott's breathing came in short bursts and she patted his back awkwardly. Thank God Derek had been there or...or else...or...
"You have to stop seeing Allison."
"What?" Scott barked and took several steps back. "Why?"
"Because her family's trying to kill you!" Joe exclaimed like it was obvious. "Maybe not Chris, but-"
Scott looked down as he admitted: "No, Chris pulled a gun on me too last time he caught me and Allison."
Joe stared at her cousin for a few seconds. "I'm sorry, what? Chris Argent already caught you and you're still seeing her?"
"I love her!"
"Oh my God. Sixteen, Scott! You're sixteen!" She held her hands up to stop whatever retort he planned. "Okay, fine, not too young to love, but too young to die! Can't you, like, wait until she's eighteen and moves out or something?"
"No!" Scott rubbed his head again, messing up his hair. "I-I can't, okay? I can't. I already lost her once and I don't want to feel like that ever again! It's like I can't breathe when I- I can't, Joe, I just can't!"
"Okay, okay," Joe said gently and picked up the discarded beer bottle from the floor. She pursed her lips before asking: "Is she your...mate?"
At least Scott stopped pacing. He wrinkled his brows like he hadn't heard her. "What?"
"What?" Joe repeated in a too high voice.
"No, she's just my girlfriend," Scott explained, still with a wrinkled forehead. He gave her a weird look. "I don't think werewolf mates is a thing."
"Right," Joe said and tried to push all those thoughts firmly to the back of her mind. "But you do see how dating the granddaughter of a slice-happy hunter could prove kind of risky, when what he is hunting is in effect, you?"
"Yeah, I know." Scott flopped down on his bed and stared forlornly at the ceiling. "We gotta be extra careful." Before Joe could point out that they had to start being careful at all, as their sneakiness hadn't been anywhere near sneaky, Scott sighed. "Derek says they're declaring war."
"Against?"
"Us."
Not wanting to worry Scott more than necessary, Joe decided to not tell him what she discovered at the hospital. Also because she still was not sure what she actually had discovered. Did someone break into the hospital to kill or save Kate? The footage of the nurses rolling the body out was useless, as they'd covered it with a sheet. No way of confirming the identity. It would probably take her from six to eight hours to dig up the grave and it would attract a lot of unwanted attention.
Fake body, fake funeral...how much money or influence would it take to pull of something like that? How much mony or influence did Argent Arms International have?
It sounded like a conspiracy theory worthy of Jimmy Carter himself. That was a simpler answer, wasn't it? That Jimmy snuck in, killed Kate — just unplugging her oxygen supply would probably have been enough — and then messed with the surveillance tape. How did he get past the cops though? It was the only way into the room and the surveillance tape editing confirmed something had happened.
No simple answers...
The girl, Lydia Martin, was taken back to the hospital according to the Beacon Post. And her bite wound was healed when she was found in the woods according to Scott. It was paraphrased from Stiles, who had actually been the first to find her, but was not coherent yet as she'd been completely naked.
Healed, but apparently not a werewolf. She hoped the Argents came to the same conclusion before another female torso was discovered in Beacon Hills Preserve. Nothing on the news about the Omega, whatever that was, that the Argents killed. Either they covered their tracks better than the late Peter Hale or they relied on the sheer size of the Preserve to conceal the remains long enough.
Joe jolted when Aunt Mel suddenly paused their movie. She turned to Joe with a raised eyebrow. "Either you're more jaded than I thought and really hating this near-happy ending, or you're not watching the movie and thinking about something else."
"I'm watching," Joe mumbled and gestured to the bright screen where a couple was going to actually kiss for the first time after several untimely interruptions. Apparently her dark thoughts had reflected onto her face and Aunt Mel was really empathetic. "I am!"
Aunt Mel looked less than convinced and nodded towards the actress on the screen. "Uh-huh, why is she in a clown costume?"
"Err..." Joe squinted and noticed the woman was indeed dressed up as a clown. "Halloween party? Okay, fine, I'm sorry, I drifted."
"Mhm, what is it?" Aunt Mel had a no nonsense voice, the one she used to make people confess their sins. "The funeral? Was it hard?"
Joe slumped back in the couch with a groan.
"Kate was a monster...she killed all those people. Innocent people. Kids." Closing her eyes, she could almost feel the electric grind riding her body when Kate tortured Derek over and over again. She could almost see Kate's disinterested look when aiming the gun at Scott. She could almost smell the hot blood pouring out of Kate's neck when Peter slashed it.
Aunt Mel sighed and slumped back on the couch too, but only in order to put an arm around Joe's shoulder. She smelled of disinfectant and soap, the generic kind from the hospital. "You know, our family are healers-"
Joe snorted.
"No, I'm serious. I'm probably the first one with an actual degree, but your grandma and great-grandma were the go-to's in their town for midwifery and setting broken bones and all that. Your grandpa in the war was a medic, never fired a gun."
"And my dad is an FBI-agent."
"Your dad," Aunt Mel squeezed Joe's shoulder, "took a month of sick leave the first, and only, time he shot a suspect. He didn't have a choice, not a real one, because the guy had a hostage. Either Rob took the shot or..." She sighed and rested her head on Joe's. "He hasn't fired his weapon in service ever since."
"My point is, it's not in our nature to let someone die. You did the right thing trying to save her. If you kill a killer, the number of killers in the world remains the same."
Joe sniffed. "Who said that? Gandhi?"
"Batman."
"Oh."
"And her death wasn't your fault, Joe. You did what you could." She stroked Joe's hair gently, like a mother would, and that made Joe bite her teeth together to keep from crying. "Are you seeing that mental health counselor at the school? There's a therapist at the hospital too if you need to talk to someone neutral..."
"I'm fine," Joe mumbled and closed her eyes. She wasn't feeling guilty for trying to save Kate, she was feeling guilty because everyone thought she did it out of the kindness of her heart. She kept her alive because death was an easy way out! Because she should face justice and know the world condemned her actions! Dying at the hands of a werewolf made her some kind of martyr...
One that the Argents would go to great lengths to avenge.
"I'm just gonna go to bed." Joe slipped out of Aunt Mel's arms and took the empty bottles with her to the kitchen before she trudged upstairs, returning Aunt Mel's good night over her shoulder. She rubbed her forehead. Things were making less sense than ever.
She made a detour to Scott's room and knocked gently. His sleepy grunt of affirmation came through the door and she opened it a few inches wide.
"Joe?" he groaned and squinted at her from the bed.
"Sorry, I just- I forgot to ask you before. The Omega...what color was its eyes? When he was, y'know, not fully human."
"Uh...yellow. Why?"
Joe swallowed. "No reason. Go back to sleep. Night."
"Night."
Not Derek. Not the girl. Not the Omega. It must have been Jimmy in her backyard the other night. But why?
The expensive leather of the chair creaked every time Joe shifted, which she did too often. Damp ringlets hung around her face, still not dry after her hasty shower that morning. She tried to discreetly rub under her eyes in case the mascara smudged when she applied it in the car at a traffic light. Because of her two week leave, she'd been lax in checking her e-mail and thus only saw the meeting notice an hour before she had to be in Professor Walker's office.
Professor Walker was everything Professor Kane wasn't, except for female. A tall, statuesque woman with an immaculate long bob, discreet jewelry and dressed in a modest, but tailored gray dress. Racially ambiguous, as her deeply tanned skin did not match her facial features that suggested she should be darker.
Her office was just down the hall from Professor Kane, but it looked to be on a different planet. Professor Kane believed in an organized chaos in terms of decoration — it looked like a combined souvenir and bookshop, with various papers and binders littering every possible surface. The only paper visible in Professor Walker's office was the printout of Joe's academic resume she held in her hands. Manicured fingernails, Joe noted, but no bright nail polish. No ring either.
"Bridget tells me you consider changing fields," Professor Walker said after a while and put Joe's resume to the side. She sat perched ontop of the desk instead of her chair and regarded Joe over a pair of slim, streamlined glasses. "Her reasoning, as most of her research, was a little vague. From your course list, I see you took my introductory to psychology when you first came to Berkeley. You have, however, chosen a slightly different path than my other candidates...We're almost halfway in the spring semester, Miss Delgado, what made you change your mind about cultural sociology?"
"I was, uh, having second thoughts about my career options," Joe said, trying to piece together what she only had in fragments herself. "Criminology sounds a bit more useful than a purely academic vocation." Professor Walker raised a thin eyebrow at that. Realizing what she had just said, Joe grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut. "Sorry, I didn't mean-"
"You want to help people," Professor Walker simply said and got up from her desk, pacing on some black kitten heels on the soft carpeted floor. "You interpret 'useful' to mean directly applicable, whereas our 'purely academic' endeavours are more, how can you say, ancillary and long-term." Professor Walker was the kind of person who could make the implied quotation marks heard in her spoken words. "Bridget tells me you were recently involved in a traumatic episode?"
That was another thing Professor Kane and Walker seemed to have in common. Blunt questions coming out of the blue.
"I, uh...yes."
"Elaborate, please."
"I don't think I'm allowed to-"
"Oh, I don't care about the practicalities," Professor Walker said easily and waved an elegant hand in front of her. "I can get that from the newspaper. While my speciality is not in fact within trauma, it does not take a doctorate to see that your field-change stems from your recent experiences with a psychotic criminal?"
Joe remained silent. She only barely remembered Professor Walker from that Psych Intro-course when she was a young and hopeful freshman who took a double courseload to get ahead. From what she could remember, Professor Walker could carry on a conversation by herself by guessing what the other person was thinking.
"And herein lies my worry, you see. Criminology, as given by the name itself, is as you know a study of criminal psychology and sociology. And while the law declares criminals to be inherently 'bad', we must from a 'purely academical' perspective be able to keep ourselves objective. Past trauma can cloud your research and judgement."
Joe's throat tightened up and she could not have answered if she wanted to.
Professor Walker took her place on her desk again, folding her long legs across each other. "Your academic record is, however, impressive, I must admit. Administratively, there is nothing holding you back from changing between cultural to criminal sociology, it's all part of the same institute. That said, I don't take on students I don't believe in."
"I understand," Joe croaked out and almost rose from her chair when Professor Walker waved her down.
"I was not quite finished. Bridget gave me the latest draft of your paper intended for publishing." Professor Walker nodded towards her slim laptop on the desk, apparently not a fan of printing everything like Professor Kane. "Even though the recent events in Beacon Hills have been revealed to not actually be 'animal attacks', there is still a case there eligible for study."
Joe's head reeled. "You want me to..."
"Change your problem statement befitting my field. If I'm convinced you can keep neutral in your assessments, I will take you on." Professor Walker gave a wane smile at Joe's shocked expression. "Questioning the ethical aspect because of your involvement? There is more to a murder than the killer, Miss Delgado. An interesting perspective could be the police's handling of the case. Should a multitude of homicides fall under the jurisdiction of a Sheriff's station perhaps best equipped to deal with public indecensy or bar fights?"
"I'm not sure I can-"
"Those are my terms, I'm afraid. Think about it. Bridget seemed more than happy to keep you on herself, you always have a choice. Thank you, Miss Delgado."
Leaving the office in a daze, Joe found herself going the long way around just to avoid bumping into Professor Kane. She had pushed the paper so far back into her mind lately, technically she was still on an academic leave, but...how could she go through with it knowing that Kate wasn't even the killer? She was a killer, but all those other murders, starting with Laura Hale, was Peter in his shape as an Alpha.
Helped by Jimmy Carter, who was still out there. Unless the Argents already got him. Nothing in the newspapers about some unfortunate hikers stumbling upon the remains of the mutilated werewolf-corpse of the Omega yet. If the Argents covered their tracks that well, would she even find out if the Argents killed Jimmy?
Back in Beacon Hills, Joe headed for the street she had found listed online earlier. Hoping to catch them off guard, she had not called ahead and instead marched straight up to the front door and rang the doorbell. A small happy sign next to it listed the occupants as 'The Carters.'
A short and plump man opened the door with a big smile. "Hello?" He must be Jimmy's father, only based on their shared sense of bad fashion. The senior Carter wore a tartan-colored sweatervest and corduroy pants.
"Mr. Carter? My name is Joe Delgado, we spoke briefly on the phone the other day..."
"Ahh! Jimmy's friend! Come in, come in!" the man exclaimed happily and opened the door wide for her. "Can I bother you to take your shoes off? The missus is very particular about the hardwood floor, you see, and it's all this sand this time of year..."
Joe obliged while the man, who introduced himself as Albert, gave her the whole history of the neighborhood and the homeowner's association he and his wife both were dedicated to.
"I'm really sorry to bother you," Joe said after being placed in a floral-patterned couch with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. "I was just wondering if you heard from Jimmy lately?"
"Not since Christmas, no," Albert said happily and pushed a platter of assorted cookies under her nose. "Cookie? Made them myself this morning!"
"Thank you, Mr. Carter. Uh, you haven't talked to him since Christmas, you said? That's over two months ago..." She tried to keep the judgement from showing through in her tone. "I mean, his apartment's just downtown, right?"
"Yes! It is indeed. Lovely location, lease is in my name, of course, for tax purposes. Have you been there? Magnificent view of small-town America at its best!" Albert kept smiling and Joe wondered if he was on some medication. "But yes, Christmas is correct. Hang on, let me see if I can find it..." Albert Carter darted up from his own seat and rummaged through a stack of papers on a nearby desk. "Aha! Here!"
A smooth multi-page document was thrust into her hands and she blinked to focus her gaze onto the page. From what she could deduce, it was a contract between James Carter and his parents. "...retain solitude for a minimum of six months, maximum twelve," she read aloud and raised her eyebrows at the sum defined as a monthly allowance. "...in order to conclude the literary endavours. I'm sorry, Mr. Carter, but what is this?"
"A book contract!" Albert dabbed at his lips after finishing one of the cookies. "Jimmy is an amazing writer, but he found that our presence hindered his creative flow, so we made a deal we would fund his living expenses with a moderate sum each month in order for him to finish his book. Contact only in cases of emergencies, as listed in second to last paragraph on page five."
"You...wrote a contract with your son of paying his bills and leaving him alone?" Joe questioned, wondering why she never thought of that.
"For six to twelve months, yes."
"But...what if something happens to him?"
"Like what?" asked Albert with the same happy smile. Joe found herself smiling stiffly back. 'Like in case your son turns into a werewolf, Mr. Carter' did not sound like the foundation of a rational discussion. "We're listed as his emergency contacts, so if he is unable or unwilling to contact us himself, the hospital or family lawyer will do so in his stead."
"So no phone calls, no e-mails, nothing?" Joe blinked. Family photos littered the entire living room — nothing gave the vibe of a bad family dynamic, except the parents' apparent willingness of giving Jimmy complete privacy for a year.
"Nope!" She must have looked so lost that Albert Carter giggled. "Miss Joe, my wife and I trust our son completely. He has never given us any reason not to! I must say I was surprised when you called, Jimmy doesn't have a lot of friends unfortunately, but if he has cut contact with you, may I daresay it is because you distracted from his writing?"
She agreed numbly that maybe that was it. Refusing any further offers of cookies, sandwiches, a cup of tea, she left their house in the end with a small cellophane bag of homemade toffees they still had left after Christmas. In the driveway, she turned to stare at the strangely quaint house and found Albert Carter waving good bye to her from the window.
Her smile felt like a death mask, but she tried, and grimaced when she finally got back into her car. Six months to a year without contact with his parents. Did he already know before Christmas that he would get the bite soon and need to take off? How much had he planned for?
The radio turned on when she started the car and jumped straight to the local radio station. "...police are working to confirm the identity of the body found downtown in Beacon Hills this morning. The Sheriff's department says it's too early in the investigation to determine if foul play was inolved and that more can be said after an autopsy is performed. This is only the latest in a long string of..."
Another murder in Beacon Hills.
Joe was so fixated on this that she almost missed an SUV driving slowly next to her still parked car, as if trying to get a good look at Joe. Must be that homeowner's association that felt her old Ford didn't quite fit into the neighborhood. Tinted windows, so no way of confirming. It never stopped, but Joe watched it until it disappeared from sight around a corner. Strange.
Last chapter in a good while with no Derek in it. Sorry, not sorry, Joe needs some time with her family.
For the record: I accidentally gave Professor Walker the same surname as Meredith Walker, which was completely on accident. By the time I noticed, it felt weird changing it, but there's no relation so you don't have to wait around for some big twist that's not coming. There are plenty of other twists though :)
Thank you so so so much for the reviews! Thank you to those who like that Joe's getting this degree, and to those who agree that Derek and Joe are so emotionally stunted they are made for each other, and to those who just say they like the story. I finished writing the end of season 2 and I am SO excited to post it when we get there.
Reviews make me post faster, if possible, so please leave one! Thank you, much love :)
EDIT: Guys, I posted chapter 23 but the site is being glitchy. If you want to see it, you have to type in the number 23 in the address-field (where it says 22 now). That should work, I hope...
EDIT 2: There's a bug for the whole website, it's not just this story. If you want to read chapter 23 before they fix it, I cross-post to AO3 under the same pen-name. You're welcome to join me there :)
EDIT 3: Last one, I promise. Apparently the chapter is available if you access the story through the Fanfiction-app, either Android or Apple. Some say it also works on the regular mobile-site, some says it doesn't. The view counter seems to be broken anyway and I have no idea how many actually have read the latest chapter. Waiting to update with new chapter until the problem is fixed. Sorry 'bout this. We just have to be patient. Much love!