Chapter 59: The Red
No matter how long Joe stared at the notice from the LAPD (Los Angeles Police Department), it did not make sense. She watched her dad wrap up the map with the post-its and marks, folding it into a neat square that he placed in his briefcase. She had claimed a chair in his borrowed office and perched on it like a gargoyle, both feet up.
"So that's it?" she asked, after finding her voice.
"Sorry, kid. Supervisor's calling me off for the time being. We got what can possibly be a serial killer down in Orange County and he's pickin' up speed. Local office is begging for support." He zipped up the briefcase with efficient movements. It had been a few days since the full moon, a few days Joe used to recuperate and do her college work before daring to come back into civilization. Her dad must have caught her despaired look and he sighed. "Nothin' I can do. Description matches Erica to the tee."
"Yeah, but..." Joe said, not knowing how to continue with the sentence. The notice from LAPD about picking up a young girl for petty theft did match Erica, right down to the name the girl had given. Erica Reyes, blonde hair, brown eyes, five-seven, no priors. Skipped bail. It had to be fake, but how could she explain that to her dad? That the description missed a very vital part: partially shapeshifts to include sideburns, yellow eyes, and large fangs?
"We notified she's a missin' kid from Beacon," her dad said as Joe never finished her sentence. "If she's picked up again, she'll be handed over to Beacon County."
"Okay," she said, wanting to argue, but knew she shouldn't. This was good, right? For her dad to drop the case and go hunt for less dangerous people, like serial killers in Orange County? To stop chasing the impossible here in Beacon Hills?
Her dad sighed again and put his hands into his belt. "Look, kid, I'll try to stop by the precinct that picked her up. See if they have anyone on the streets that might know where she's holding up these days. But all things point to Erica doin' what most runaway kids do. Hang out on the beach and enjoyin' freedom for the time being. Maybe that phone call was just a prank after all."
A nice dream, but just that, a dream.
"When are you leavin'?" her dad asked, breaking her out of her thought process.
After a lot of consideration, she had decided to do the fieldwork. With the internet and a laptop, there was nothing to hinder her from keep looking for Erica even on the road. "Oh, uh, tomorrow I think."
"Talk to Mel yet?"
"No, not yet," Joe admitted. The girl's night was on hold for now as Joe had tried to rid herself of distractions for a while. She planned to tell Aunt Mel everything, but wanted some time to prepare herself. "I'll stop by when I get back, I'm only gone for a couple of weeks."
"All right," her dad said again as if he just said that enough, it would become true. "You look good, kid. Eight hours a night agrees with you."
"Yeah, whatever." Clearing her throat, she dug into her pocket for the polaroid and held it out to him. It was only that she was out of tears that prevented further crying at Dad's softened face as he made no move to accept it. "You said you only had one, right?"
"Keep it."
"Dad-"
"I don't need that one," her dad said and cracked a smile. He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. "I got this."
Joe hesitated at putting the polaroid back into her pocket, but did so anyway — compartmentalizing the feelings connected with it for later — and leaned over to look at what her dad was trying to show. A smile came over her lips as well. "Oh, really? The pigtails and all, huh?"
"Yeah, it was a good look on ya."
"It was the only 'hairstyle'," Joe used air quotes as she picked up the wallet to study the small picture closer, "you could pull off. What am I here, seven? Eight?"
"I dunno, how many teeth are ya missing?"
Joe snorted and tried to count. It was a school picture from probably second grade judging by the visible gap where one of her front teeth should have been. Tanned skin and a lot of freckles on her face, the frizz from her hair evident even from the small photo — her dad had had no idea how to tame her curls, even with Aunt Mel's exasperated instructions. Without thinking, Joe took out the polaroid again to compare. It was the same smile, give or take a few teeth.
"What is she? Or was, whatever?" Joe asked and tried to sound casual. That night had ended in a lot of snot and tears, making it difficult for her to ask all the questions she had. "Latina? Afro-Latina?"
"Dunno. Mixed," her dad said, obviously gauging Joe's mental balance at the moment. "Not sure if she knew herself. Her Spanish was worse than yours though."
"Hey, you're the one who let me learn it on the block," Joe mumbled absentmindedly, "instead of teaching me yourself."
"Puelto Rico," her dad mimicked the distinct accent and Joe rolled her eyes as her dad laughed at his own imitation. "Your mom spoke French too, so I'm betting she was from one of the islands at least."
"You don't know where she's from?"
"There was a lot of things I never learned about her and everythin' I did was fake. Call it a whirlwind romance. Or gullibility, whatever floats your boat. She had me fooled for a good year."
Joe nodded, still looking for comparisons. It was easier doing it on an old picture of herself than in the mirror right now. Second-grader Josie was both happy and clueless about what really existed in the world. Maybe this was even before she started asking questions, before Uncle Raf dubbed her Nosy Josie, a nickname that somehow transferred even into the school setting.
"Listen, kid," her dad leaned on the table, "I was thinkin' I could come back up here when I'm done in OC. We can talk some more. Maybe," he shrugged, "look into some family therapy. Get an outsider's perspective, work out a few things."
"Family therapy?" Joe repeated, distracted from the pictures. She smiled. "You gone soft on me, Dad?"
"Yeah, well, what can I say? Old age and all," Dad said with a grin she mimicked. "I'm serious though. Think it'd be good for us. We used to be a team, Jos- Joe. I miss that."
After a few moments of stunned silence, Joe recovered. "Yeah, okay. We can do that." Still with the photos in her hands, she hesitated. "What did she do? Specifically? I mean, you said she killed someone, but was it self-defense or..." Her words faltered as her dad's smile fell. "Not self-defense, huh? Murder? And she never got caught?"
"Things were different back then. The investigation was botched from the beginning — they never even found the body. By the time I realized what was going on, it was too late. Far as I know, they never got enough evidence to make her a suspect. She went off the grid, case was buried, and I was just happy she was gone, to be honest."
"Never resurfaced?"
"Not once in twenty years. She's either dead or long gone, kid."
"No wonder I never found anything," Joe mumbled, feeling so stupid for the countless hours she had spent on that project. "Who- who did she kill?"
"Mija... "
"I'm not gonna go digging into this," Joe said, at least hoping that was the truth. "I just, I dunno, I guess I'm looking for something to make it make sense."
Dad kept quiet for some time. "When I get back, I'll bring the old case files. You can see for yourself." He held his hand up. "I know you got questions by the dozen, kid, but I don't have all the answers. Parts of this don't make sense. There's a good chance we'll never find out exactly what happened."
"Maybe you got it wrong? Maybe she-" Joe faltered again at his expression. "Sorry, looking for redeemable qualities or something. I mean you loved her once, right? She wasn't all bad?"
He had told her how they met, how they fell in love, how fast all had happened. That was the nice part of the story. It had gone south from there and the blank slate Joe had held on this pedestal for all this time had been filled in with the face of a cold-blooded killer. Alleged, anyway, but her dad was pretty positive about what had happened. Apparently, she had pretty much confessed to him, and he was more worried about keeping her away from Joe than to report her to the police.
Surreal did not even begin to cover how Joe felt about this. It still felt like a dream or a bad nightmare, not entirely real.
Like Kate, Dad was certain Joe's mom had left the country when she left him and Joe. Good riddance.
"She wasn't all bad," her dad echoed Joe's words back to her and winked. "She gave me you."
"And she was really pretty," Joe commented, tapping the picture in her hand.
"Beautiful just like you."
"Laying it on too thick here, Dad." Knowing she would have to accept facts — both the truth about her mom and that her dad was now leaving town again, something she found she didn't exactly look forward to like she normally did — she handed him back the wallet. "Do you think she was a spy or something?"
He snorted. "World's not a movie. I'm not that kind of agent, kid."
"You weren't any kind of agent back then." She glanced at the polaroid, grinning again. "That why you kept this picture? To prove you were cool once?" Instead of the crew-cut she had grown up with, her dad sported a long mane of dark hair reaching his shoulders. "Very Fabio."
"I kept it," her dad said and snatched it out of her hands to tap against the little bundle of cloth in the woman's arms, "because of that. You."
The glint in his eye told her he was being sentimental to rile her up. Joe took the picture back. "Whatever. Who's this other chick?"
"Your mom's friend. She hated my guts."
"Sounds nice."
"Don't push it, kiddo." The office was packed up and her dad handed her a cardboard box to carry before he picked up his backpack and briefcase. "Come on, walk with me."
One arm around the box, she fiddled with the cords of the hooded sweatshirt she wore and followed her dad out of the temporary office at the Beacon County Sheriff's Station. He smiled and waved at the deputies on his way out, joking that he hoped he wouldn't be back here just yet.
Well into May now, the weather became increasingly warmer and her dad always ran hot-blooded, so he shrugged off his suit jacket en route to the rental vehicle.
"Dad, I'm..." Joe sighed. It was so difficult to talk lately. Like now that there wasn't any immediate danger, she'd fell in some sort of dormant waiting-mode, running on less than half capacity. Her dad was in the midst of putting his briefcase in his car, but turned with an expectant frown on his face. The tan he had when getting here was not fading yet. Joe took a deep breath. "Dad, I'm really glad you told me the truth, but I need to ask you one more thing."
"Okay?"
"Did you know?" she asked, biting her bottom lip as she watched her dad wince. "Before I got sent to Tryon, did you know what I found? Was that why I was sent to Tryon?"
She hadn't told him. Seething with anger, she'd barely talked to her dad after she found out her mother hadn't died in labor. After she was released from juvie, she avoided him to the best of her abilities, going through the motions because she was still financially dependent on him. Working her ass off to graduate on time, she moved cross-country the first chance she got. It was Alex who called him out on it, both about his initial lie and the fact that he should have realized what she found.
"I didn't want to know," her dad answered now and Joe realized it was complete honesty from his side. And that Alex had been at least partially right. "But a part of me knew. Things hasn't been the same since and-" He shrugged desolately. "I know there's no making up for lost time, kid, but I want to be there for you. As your father, as an agent, however you need me."
Without really knowing how to respond, Joe gave him a nervous smile. "I think this is the longest we've gone without shouting at each other. It's a new record. How much are you paying your therapist? You should double it."
"Josefina," he said, the Spanish rolling off his tongue, and smiled. "If and when you're ready to talk more, call me. Any hour of the day, I know you're a night owl, just like your old man. We'll talk, okay?" A heartbeat passed as he waited for her to answer and he pushed: "¿De acuerdo?"
She smiled a bit and agreed. "De acuerdo."
"All right," he said again and nodded. He opened his arms for a hug, letting her make the decision, which she appreciated. Small steps. Rebuild slowly, from scratch, as her therapist said. Joe walked into his embrace and he kissed the top of her head again like she was eight years old and nothing bad had happened between them. It was nice. "Take care now, kid. And take care of your aunt!"
"I will."
Joe watched him get in the car and waved him off as he drove, leaving her alone on the curb in front of the Sheriff's station. Not for long though. As her dad's station wagon disappeared around a corner, she dashed for her own car, heading for the apartment.
Jimmy was up, unexpectedly early, but unlike herself, he might not have slept all night.
"Oh good, you're back," he said when she finished locking up behind her. "I have a draft of an article I wanted to post, there are some strange happenings in Mexi- what is this?" She had handed him the notice from LAPD. "This must be fake, but is remarkably well done. Where did you get this?" His eyebrows were up high by the time she finished the explanation. "There is a serial killer in Orange County?"
"Oh my God, Jimmy, focus! Who has the motive and the means to pull something like this off?"
"Am I a suspect?"
"Well, you got some sort of police contact you still haven't come clean about," Joe pointed out. And some other stuff, but she wasn't getting into that right now — she hadn't told him she had overheard his little seance with Derek. "If this wasn't you, and it's obviously fake because I don't think Erica would let herself be arrested for petty theft without putting up a hella more fight than the LAPD would expect, who's trying to throw the Feds off their tracks?"
He tapped the notice with his hand and she knew what he was going to suggest even before he said it, judging by how he tried to watch her reaction. "Der-"
"Right? I'm not crazy?" Joe asked, cutting him off, not really interested in hearing the name. Easier to ignore for now. Wait for her to gather her thoughts and find out how she was going to apologize or explain or...whatever. "It's got to be him?"
Him, who she still hadn't seen since her disastrous attempt at distracting herself. Jimmy had divulged a little detail about the apartment, how he had it fitted to be essentially werewolf-proof from the outside unless you had the keys. The door was apparently made of some special kind of supernatural-repellent wood. It was very technical, so Joe couldn't really follow. She was more concerned if it was Kate Argent-proof, but then again, she was a werewolf now, so that was probably the same thing. Bottom line, Derek Hale could not enter unless let in. Not that he had tried after that first night, correctly interpreting her radio silence to that she needed some space.
She still had the urge to go talk to him, but it was squashed by her mortification of having to see his face again. Before, when she thought of him, she just saw his handsome scowl, the simmering anger always present. Now, she only saw the expression he had when he had to physically break off the kiss. Ughhh, Delgado, focus!
A couple of weeks on the road doing Professor Walker's work sounded good by now. If this was Derek's work, if he wanted her dad — and by extent her — off the chase, he got what he wanted.
"Are you back?" Jimmy asked and she guessed she had zoned out, only now becoming aware that she paced the length of their desks. She nodded and he continued: "I was asking how things are faring between you? I am more than happy to deny him access to you, but you have yet to disclose what happened."
"Things aren't faring, Jimmy," Joe muttered and went over to the coffee-machine, wondering how long the current coffee had been sitting in the pot. It smelled okay. Nothing a little creamer wouldn't fix. "Things aren't faring at all."
"You must be the mate-pair that have resisted the bond for the longest in the history of time." His comment came drily, not intended as anything more than an observation, but Joe did not have the mental capacity to consider any kind of 'bond' right now. "Makes you wonder how much your human side is obstructing the process."
"Yeah, well, we'll never know, so..." She ignored the pointed look he sent her. Tried to at least. "I'm not becoming a werewolf, Jimmy, stop looking at me like that." Under her breath, she muttered: "Already got enough trouble controlling my impulses."
Jimmy looked at her until she gave him the finger to make him stop. His lip twitched. "The Alpha Pack is a real thing though. Got word back from some of my associates-"
"Conspirators."
"-and it is as the name suggests, a pack made up of Alphas. The Alpha of the Alpha Pack-"
"The Alpha-Alpha?"
"-is an individual by the name of Deucalion," Jimmy finished, not bothering with her quips.
Joe kept quiet for a while, sipping her slightly rancid coffee. "Like, Greek Mythology Deucalion? Like, Greek Mythology's version of Noah's Ark's Deucalion?"
In the legend, Deucalion was the son of Prometheus and along with his wife, Pyrrha, were the only survivors of the human race when Zeus decided to flood the entire world. Together they repopulated the world, but it was after consulting some Oracle, which did not fit with how the entire mankind had died already, but that was Greek Mythology for ya. Riddled with plot holes.
"I assume," Jimmy said with a shrug. "Probably not a name he chose for himself. If you were going to go with Greek Mythology, there are far better names to be had. Lycaon, as an example. Apollo is also a good choice, he is the Lord of the Wolves."
"I'd go with Fenrir." Joe nodded in agreement; Deucalion seemed like a stupid name. "From the Norse Mythology. Swallow the sun and that whole shtick. Way cooler than getting cursed by Zeus. Everybody was getting cursed by Zeus."
"True. Anyway, that is all I have been able to find out about this pack of Alphas. I got the impression that most didn't want to talk about them and if they did, they only referenced rumors."
"Super helpful."
Jimmy sighed and turned back to his computer. "I tried my best. Are you leaving tomorrow? Kelly says she's excited to see you again."
"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask," Joe said, giving up on her coffee and pouring it into the sink. "How are things, uh, faring between you two?"
"We have an established text-based communication for now and plans to have coffee the next time she is at Berkeley. I assume the rest you will find out tomorrow, as she will undoubtedly tell her side of the story. It goes without saying I will appreciate your discretion regarding my condition."
"You make it sound like you have cancer. Don't worry, I'm not gonna go around telling any of my college friends about werewolves." Joe had both hands on her hips, thinking of how little she had prepared for the trip. "Shit, I have to get to Berkeley and sign those expense-forms." And have a little chat with Professor Kane when she was there. "I'll look over your article when I get back."
Leaving Jimmy with his half-finished article about whatever was going on in Mexico, Joe trudged down to the apartment complex' parking lot where her Ford stood these days.
"Shit."
The word came unbidden and she could tell even from this distance how Derek raised his eyebrows at her exclamation. He leaned against her car like he had been there for a while, with crossed arms and sunglasses on. Even if the apartment was werewolf-proof, the street was not. She nearly turned on her heel and ran back upstairs, just seeing him at this distance making her stomach churn.
If she thought he had looked unimpressed with her before, this was a whole new level.
"Joe," he called as she had frozen on the curb, not sure where to go or what to do. "Can we talk?"
"Can we not?"
Hugging herself and keeping her eyes locked downwards on the ground, she crossed over to her car. She went the long way around, keeping as much space between them as possible, and unlocked the driver's side.
Before she could open the door, Derek was by her side again and held it shut with his arm as he leaned against it, towering over her. He'd taken off his sunglasses. "I think we're gonna have to, Joe."
Head bent, she tried to focus on anything but the smell of him. She studied their shoes instead, her worn sneakers that had at one point been white and his black basketball shoes. A strange choice of footwear, but she supposed werewolves did not need that much arch support when running in the woods anyway.
"I'd really rather not," Joe mumbled, not even blushing, just feeling her whole body prickling. Numb and overwhelmed at the same time. Seeing him, smelling him — it was too much.
He sighed, but did not move from his position, only folded his arms. "Joe, it's not that I don't," Derek seemed to search for a word, "want you. I do, so much it's..." Now the blush did come at record speed up her back, but she could not bring herself to look at him, to see his expression or his eyes. "So much I couldn't take the chance of seeing you yesterday, during the full moon."
It was hard to breathe and she had to fight for each word to get out. "Derek, this is so not about that-"
"You know I want this, Joe, and you know I anchor in anger to stay in control and I'm sorry that made it seem like I was rejecting you. But you were upset. Not thinking straight. I could smell the anxiety all over you."
"Oh God," Joe muttered and tried to look even further down, studying the frayed edges of her jeans. He was not telling her anything she didn't already know. "That doesn't make it okay. You get that, right? That it's not an excuse for how I acted? For what I did?"
Which was how she had acted with Alex, back in the day, wasn't it? A distraction from her own ever-spinning mind. The easiest way to find peace and then sleep.
"Joe..." His voice low and he uncrossed his arms, his fingers near hovering over her arm, but he dropped it without ever touching her. "I just didn't want you to do anything you might regret. I didn't want that being a thing you'd regret. Ever. I can't, remember?" A small intake of breath. "And Isaac was just up the stairs and that room is decidedly not soundproof yet."
Joe could not even feel her own ears anymore, the heat detaching them from her head. She wouldn't mind her whole head detaching itself from her body. It could just pop off for all she cared and roll under her car, so she would be spared the temptation of looking at him. She was not sure if her body felt several sizes too big or her clothes too small, but the effect was the same, her skin itched at his proximity.
"You want me to ask or back off? About what happened before you came to the loft?" Derek crossed his arms again as if he couldn't keep still. "Up to you." When she kept quiet, he said: "Remind me what you said about communication again?"
She snorted in the direction of her own knees. "Yeah, uh, about that — what are you not telling me?" Without waiting for a reply, her turn now to anchor in anger, she pulled out the notice from the LAPD and finally managed to look at Derek while handing it over. "Great work, by the way. You got what you wanted. My dad's been pulled off the case, he's already left town."
His bright eyes moved as he skimmed the text. "This wasn't me."
"Who else has motive? Who else has an interest in keeping the Feds away from werewolf-business? Of getting my dad to leave town?"
"Are you," Derek's brows pulled together softly, "upset he's left?"
"Can you stop trying to tailor your responses to my goddamn chemosignals? Can't you just answer me?"
He closed his eyes briefly as if resetting his mind and recalling her question. "The Alpha pack. Maybe your dad got too close." A short glance to the notice. "Or maybe Erica really is down in LA." Something must have given away her skepticism, either her face or her scent, as Derek sighed. "I didn't do this."
"Really?"
"Joe, I've never lied to you."
"I have no way of knowing that," Joe pointed out and crossed her own arms again. "So if it's not this, there's something else you're not telling me. I overheard you talking to Jimmy."
Derek cast a short dark glance in the direction of the second floor of the building.
"I'm not trying to keep things from you," he started and Joe swore, because that was an admission of guilt from his side, "I just don't know how to explain things in a way that makes sense to you."
"Have you tried?" she challenged and watched his jaw flex. "Right. Okay, well, you got three weeks to figure it out." She pulled on her door, but Derek's mass kept it in place. He drew back and let her open it an inch. "We can talk when I get back."
His hand slammed the door shut again. "Back from where?"
"I told you before. Fieldwork for Walker," she said, not looking at him, rather at her car door. She tugged on the door handle again, but he didn't budge. "California crime lab interviews."
"Are you sure leaving is a good idea?"
"Can't think of a better one right now."
"I meant leaving Beacon Hills," Derek explained with uncharacteristic patience. "It might not be safe."
"Why not? Erica's living the life in LA apparently."
He didn't rise to the bait. "Are you taking Jimmy with you?"
She finally looked up, only to scrunch her brows together. "If I'm taking Jimmy with me? Derek, he's my roommate, not an accessory." He rolled his eyes and Joe anchored in the annoyance, feeling it flare to anger. "Did you not hear that I'm visiting 'crime labs'? Most of the people working there are cops, it'll be plenty safe." It was a struggle to look at him, but she managed without her breath getting too shaky. "Now can you get off my door?"
With an excessive eye roll, he did and she opened the door fully and got in. When she tried to pull it shut, she found his hand yet again holding it in place as he leaned over her car.
"We have an instinct to seek each other out if we're hurt."
Joe paused at his words, peering up at him from the seat. It sounded like a fact and not a conversation starter.
"You've acted on it a few times already, so I thought you knew. It doesn't differentiate what kind of hurt." Derek's eyebrows lifted slightly, but his face remained neutral otherwise. "If you're confused why you came to see me."
"That makes sense," Joe said slowly and pulled on her door again, "except I used to do the exact same thing to Alex." She ignored both her own rush of newfound guilt and the tightening of his jaw. "Look, I wish I could claim that some supernatural force made me do it, but nope, it's just me and my unresolved issues. And I'm not sure how to apologize yet, so I'm also taking three weeks to work that one out. Okay? We'll talk then, I promise."
"Joe, you don't need to apologize."
Hard to tell if it was her scent or her expression that made him roll his eyes.
"Can you at least turn your phone back on?" he asked tiredly and she was struck with that same sensation she had so many times before. How he kept running after her, keeping her safe because he felt like he had to. Not because he cared, but because he felt responsible.
"My phone is on," she bit out and pulled the door so hard a normal person would get their fingers squashed. Derek was not a normal person and he withdrew his hand before her door slammed shut. Doing her very best at ignoring him, just like she did his text messages, she started the car and drove off. Not even looking at him in the rearview mirror. Well, she looked, but he was already gone by then.
Good job, Delgado. You are officially a mess. Claiming to need time to think and then spend all your time trying not to think. See the paradox here, Joe? Already compartmentalized most stuff about your mom, haven't you? Not like Dad had said anything you didn't know or suspect. Of course, your money was on drugs or something, that she was a junkie. Or she left for another man, another family. Not that she had straight-up killed someone. Although with the lack of details around that, there could still be drugs involved.
Three weeks without thinking about the supernatural would do her good. Give her perspective. And Kelly could definitely help her figure out what to say to Derek when she worked up the nerve to answer his texts.
"Derek stopped by."
In the middle of deciding how many gray t-shirts to pack, Joe looked up at Jimmy who leaned against the doorframe of her room. She sat on the floor, stuffing relatively clean clothes into her bag. "What?"
Jimmy nodded and studied his hands. Sometimes it struck her how different he had become after the bite and how alike he was still. "He wanted to hear how I felt about you leaving, and I quote, without protection."
"I'm guessing he wasn't talking about condoms. And? How do you feel?" Joe asked while rolling her eyes, something Jimmy seemed to take some pleasure at.
She was in a sour mood after Berkeley. Neither Professor Walker nor Professor Kane was on campus today. She'd see Walker tomorrow, but after Kane had insisted they took the less-conventional-academics talks in her office, she hadn't been able to reach the woman. The finals were coming up and probably took up most of her time, but it was bad timing for all the questions that had built up.
"I will admit I feel a bit uneasy about the prospect."
"Oh, come on."
"You know I will not agree with Hale unless necessary. If the Alpha Pack kidnapped his betas because they were his betas, who's to say they won't go after his mate next? Can you please stop making that face, it is highly unattractive."
Joe did not even try to clear her features. "How are they supposed to know I'm his mate anyway?"
Maybe she had the werewolf-equivalent of a sign on her back. Doctor Deaton had said it was easy to tell when you knew what to look for. And Peter had obviously known almost before Derek did because of the police files delivered on her doorstep. Joe told this to Jimmy, who shrugged.
"To the trained eye, maybe. I'm not sure I would be able to tell if I didn't know it beforehand. How you smell sweeter when you think of him — I swear, Delgado, I will stuff a pillowcase over your head if you keep sneering like that." Not an empty threat and Joe ducked her head so her grumbling displeasure was not as obvious. "And that he will always turn his head in your direction even before you enter. He's almost always masking his scent, but there are small clues in how he talks about and to you. So maybe it is easy to tell if you know what to look for."
"Yeah, well, I don't," Joe said, responding to the last part, trying to cover up the blush rising at his other comment. She hadn't known that. Failing to fold a pair of leggings, because she was fumbling so much, she demanded: "Since when are you on his side anyway?"
Jimmy shrugged. "When it concerns your safety."
"Okay, you see how that's weird, right? Derek's my uh, mate. He doesn't have a choice but to worry and let's face it, his backstory leaves him prone to be kind of overprotective." And her backstory left her prone to being a bitch. "But you're my roommate, Jimmy."
"And your friend." He rolled his eyes. "Stop smiling like that."
"Dude, I'm sorry, what kind of face do you want me to make?" A suspicion crept over her and she narrowed her eyes. "Are you just saying this so I'll ask you to come along so you can meet Kelly? Hoho, stop making that face, Jimmy-boy!"
He threw his head back and she saw how his Adam's apple bobbed. "It is...a contributing factor, yes. As I already told you, my meeting with Kelly was by chance, but I rather like her. And as far as I can tell, she likes me as well. For more than just my new appearance, which is, I suppose, bittersweet as I did expend a lot of time, effort, and pain to look like this."
"You ever gonna tell me all about that?"
"Oh, how could I ever try to explain old Celtic rituals to a post-grad in cultural anthropology?" Jimmy asked, effectively dodging the question and Joe rolled her eyes again. "Then it is settled? I will join you on your trip to Sacramento. If we can establish no one or nothing followed you out of Beacon, you can continue on your California-tour alone."
"I'm only covering Northern Cali," Joe mumbled, not seeing the use in arguing. Kelly was based in San Diego and only meeting Joe at the California Criminalistics Institute's main office in Sacramento for the kick-off meeting. Who knew when she would be up here next time? Despite the initial red flags, Jimmy had proved to be nothing more than a sweetheart to both Kelly and Joe — it was a small favor to bring him along.
They left before dawn the next day, neither's sleep schedule too synchronized with the sun to be bothered too much by the fact. A quick detour to the hospital to say bye to Aunt Mel, and they were on the road in her indefinable blue Ford Fiesta. Joe would need her car and Jimmy said something incredibly vague about a bus back to Beacon Hills. She suspected Kelly was going to Berkeley after the meeting and he hoped to catch a ride with her.
As they passed the Beacon Hills-sign, she bit her lip in thought. Looks like Derek would get his way after all: she would stop looking for Erica and Boyd and she wouldn't leave Beacon Hills 'unprotected', which she wasn't anyway. Joe put her hand under her seat to confirm the location of the shotgun.
How Jimmy was supposed to establish no one was following them while snoring in the passenger seat was beyond her, but Joe secretly appreciated the company. Jimmy got her. And he got her fear of Kate. Even as a fully shapeshifting Demi Alpha werewolf that had gone through weird ancient Celtic rituals, he was scared of Kate. Joe wasn't sure if that thought comforted her or not. Validating was maybe the right word.
Eureka, Redding, Chico, Santa Rosa, Richmond, and Central Valley — it would be a busy few weeks. She hoped her car would be up for all the driving and that the university reimbursed her for the gas on the bi-weekly basis that Professor Walker promised. Joe scrunched up her nose at the thought of the ten-page questionnaire she wanted to be answered by the relevant technicians at the lab. Part of the analysis was noting down subject behavior when answering as well, so she hoped Kelly had done her job as a liaision; she would need a dedicated meeting room, supervisor approval, snacks as a reward for even showing up. It could've been worse, Joe supposed, criminologists often interviewed criminals.
As the sun crept over the horizon, the heat caused a mist to rise from the near-empty road. No traffic yet, just the occasional truck passing them, but Joe had to squint to make sure she stayed in her lane. The mist turned into fog and gave all the nearby trees a skeletal silhouette, making it far creepier than it should be in May.
Joe kept her foot on the gas pedal — this was a straight stretch of road. If she just could push past this fog, it'd be an easier drive from there. She remembered the existence of wild animals and eased up a little. Not that it helped, if the fog got any denser she would have to just stop the car. Leaning forwards, so she could keep an eye on the road markings to make sure she even stayed on the road, she kept driving a good bit under the speed limit.
"You're slowing down." Jimmy sounded groggy, but straightened up in the seat. "In California in the early spring, there are pale yellow mornings, when the mists burn slowly into day." It sounded like a quote and he gave her a half-smile. "Robert Hass."
"Right." Contemporary poetry was never her thing. Or any kind of poetry. That sounded more like Derek's deal, with all the books he read and referenced during their date. A date where she could forget almost everything about werewolves and near-death traumas and just focus on him. No wonder it seemed like a different life.
Aware of Jimmy's eyes on her, she turned slowly to glance at him with a deadpan expression. "My scent?"
"Sweet like Californian wine." He smiled, obviously still half asleep.
Joe rolled her eyes. "You're so full of shit, Carter, I can't-"
She cut off, as she swore she saw a shadow move alongside the road in the mist.
"You can't?"
"Can't even," Joe finished, half her focus on the trees. Had to be a trick of the light, there was nothing there now. The mist cleared ahead of them and she picked up speed. "Hey, can I ask you something?"
"You have my undivided attention."
"Why can't you just say yes like a normal person?"
"Was that the question? Because the answer is that I can smell the irritation instantly and it's quite amusing."
Glaring as much as she could while still driving, she huffed. "Yeah, okay, whatever. I overheard you talking with Derek the night of the full moon. Or the dawn after the night of the full- you know what I mean." As Jimmy only raised his eyebrows politely, obviously waiting for a question, she sighed again. "What are you guys not telling me? What did he mean 'what happened at the warehouse'?"
"Oh, that," Jimmy said and stretched in his seat, proving that the car was not made for someone his size. "I'm surprised you haven't asked before. It's another sad tale, are you emotionally prepared for that?"
"We- we are talking about the warehouse when all that stuff with Jackson, Kate, and Gerard happened, right?" Joe asked uncertainly. "How much did I miss?"
"I suppose you were busy with being held at gunpoint," Jimmy commented drily. He pulled in a deep breath."And I was busy cowering in the corner. That is what happened. For all this muscle, power, and strength I've gained lately, the second Kate Argent entered, I froze. Completely. Scared out of my fragile little mind of a half-raving madwoman with a shotgun."
They let the confession marinate as Joe continued driving. With everything that had happened, Joe hadn't thought about Jimmy before the kanima had her in a chokehold.
"Jimmy, she tortured you-"
"Oh, I know it's a completely justifiable and understandable response," Jimmy sounded completely unbothered, "but I am also allowed to feel ashamed of my lack of reaction as well. It was like I forgot I had all this power, that I was strong enough to take her down if I only could get myself to move, but I suppose the abuse she put me through gave her some kind of hold on me."
Joe turned over the information in her mind to find an appropriate response. "I didn't expect you to come to my rescue. You froze up, it happens."
"You didn't."
"Yeah, but I..." She trailed off and blinked at the road in front of her. "I'm gonna go on a limb here and guess you haven't exactly been in that kind of situation before, right? Have you ever actually fought someone?"
He shifted a bit in his seat. "I've done extensive research."
"Yeah, okay, but that's not the same. There's a reason first-responders have so much hands-on training. Theory only gets you so far. People react differently to stressful situations. And with you, I guess it's double up because you're more aware of your instincts and sometimes I guess the instincts go towards hiding instead of engaging. Bro, I'm not blaming you for anything."
"No, I don't expect you do, but Derek does, at least somewhat." Jimmy sniffed, looking out the window at the bright morning sky. "But it might be because he froze up himself."
Those words made Joe hesitate. It did not sound like Derek. "He was paralyzed from the venom, right?"
"You assume that. Have you asked him?"
No, she hadn't. But if there was anything in this world that could make Derek freeze up, it would be Kate. Especially Kate who he thought was dead. It was one thing that he knew she wasn't, it was another thing to witness it. And maybe, a specific part of Joe's brain added, Kate who had gone after Joe again, this time on his watch. She recalled the difference between the sheriff's station and the warehouse — he'd been paralyzed both times, but at the station, he had dug his claws into his thigh to push out the venom. At the warehouse, he'd just...stared. Ugh, they had a lot to talk about when she got back. She was not gonna let him harbor any more guilt on her behalf, it wasn't healthy.
And Jimmy, she thought and glanced over at him where he had donned a pair of sunglasses, silent after asking his last question. He'd become a werewolf for power and strength, probably not expecting to feel weak ever again. It proved that the bite did not change someone's personality. Scott had always tried to help people, even as a skinny asthmatic kid, the bite had just given him the right tools. Jimmy was still Jimmy. She had no doubt he would fight if provoked or attacked, but there's that slight difference between defending yourself and actively attacking.
Had Derek blamed him? Maybe somewhat. Joe had a feeling it was a form of implicit bias from Derek's side. Werewolves were strong and powerful, humans were weak and fragile. Jimmy was a werewolf, Joe was human. He probably just unconsciously expected more from Jimmy than Joe.
As much as she itched to ask about the other stuff Jimmy had hinted at — that Derek would have to tell her everything at some point — she wanted to give Derek the chance to explain first. Although she had to admit, this whole forcing every single piece of information out of him was getting old.
"Are you sure this is the place?" Jimmy asked as they pulled over to a roadside diner and truck stop. "This is where your professor wanted to meet?"
Professor Walker had scheduled a brunch and preparation meeting before the kickoff in Sacramento. Joe checked her e-mail on the phone and the description of both diner and address matched. She shrugged. "Maybe they have really amazing milkshakes or something?"
"Then it must be a well-kept secret," Jimmy mumbled and Joe could see his point.
Only a few other cars in the parking lot outside and no trucks at all. The building itself looked to be from the sixties maybe, slightly rundown and with old-school sun-faded signs — didn't exactly match with Professor Walker's elegant appearance. Joe would have expected some fancy coffee shop in downtown Sacramento and she was on the verge of calling Walker to make sure there wasn't any misunderstanding when the Professor herself came out the main doors of the diner. She waved their way.
"Good morning, Miss Delgado," Professor Walker said when Joe and Jimmy got out of the car. Her sharp eyes trailed Jimmy's form with obvious disapproval. "Didn't know you brought a chaperone." She extended a hand. "Hello, Sarah Walker, I'm a professor at Berkeley."
"James Carter."
Squinting against the bright morning sun, Professor Walker checked her wristwatch and beckoned for them to join her inside. "As you are well aware, Miss Delgado, accommodation only includes a single room. If you want to upgrade to a double, you will have to pay the difference out of your own pocket."
As Joe sputtered protests, she realized Professor Walker did not care either way.
Early in the morning, there weren't that many other people in the diner. A cook and a waitress greeted them when they entered, but none of the other patrons glanced up. The handful of people in there looked deeply invested in their food, coffee, or newspaper. A pretty light-skinned black woman gave Joe a warm smile over the cup of coffee she nursed at the counter and Joe was too perplexed to return the sentiment. It might have been Jimmy she smiled at though.
Professor Walker led them over to a booth where a half-drunk cup of coffee revealed she had already been there for a while.
It quickly became apparent this was more a preparation meeting than a brunch as Walker methodically went over all the details they should have covered earlier if Joe hadn't been so distracted by her own private investigation. They ate the standard breakfast-plate offered by the diner as they discussed practicalities — Jimmy quickly lost interest and spent most of the time on his phone.
After the waitress cleared their plates, she returned with some cups of coffee, where Jimmy was stuck with some generic tea brand.
At least it left the table free. Professor Walker also had a big briefcase with her that she now propped up — it contained the sound-recording equipment with the accompanying laptop Joe was going to use for the interviews.
"This is the microphone here, but it is designed to pick up an entire room and not just one speaker. The software will typewrite the speech to text, will have to go over for inaccuracies of course, but it color-codes different speakers. To the best of its abilities, of course, the technology is still not fool-proof."
She had Joe set it up several times and then suggested they left it on as they talked so Joe could see how it worked in practice. Professor Walker kept checking the time, which was a bit strange as they still had hours until they were scheduled to meet Kelly and her superiors in Sacramento.
"Apologies," Professor Walker said with a thin smile when she was caught checking her wristwatch again. "I am not too fond of leaving things to the last minute."
At their side, the computer recorded and subsequently typed Professor Walker's words. Yellow words on a black background.
"Yeah, uh, I'm sorry, I should have made the time to get all of this done earlier. It's just been really busy. The last few weeks, or months, have been really busy. It's been a lot to deal with, but I'm really grateful for this opportunity, Professor Walker. I promise I won't let you down."
The professor's hard stare made Joe shift a bit uncomfortable in her seat. Eventually, Walker nodded, sleek hair bobbing along with her movement. "That is appreciated. Bridget always spoke highly of your prowess." She turned to address Jimmy. "Mr. Carter, I am sorry for the inconvenience, but I need to discuss some academic details with Miss Delgado and the content is, for the time being, confidential. Is it too much hassle to ask you to wait in the car? I promise it won't take long."
Jimmy glanced at Joe first, but eventually nodded and stalked outside. From the window, Joe could see him settle into the passenger seat of the Ford, still texting on his phone.
Despite Professor Walker's request, she initiated a round of small-talk first, and Joe could see the recording software typing down each word as they spoke it. Not perfectly, but it sure as hell beat listening through hours of recorded interviews and typing them for hand as Joe had done for her master's thesis. Her words were in red.
It was nice to have the opportunity to get to know Professor Walker slightly better in a more relaxed setting than her office. When you got past the incredibly dry humor, she had that in-depth knowledge about the world that Joe had only encountered in college professors and Aunt Mel. Joe could see why Kelly sang her praises so often.
At one point, Joe let it slip that Jimmy was tagging along because of Kelly. It made Professor Walker's face freeze in a tight, neutral expression.
"Oh," she said and tucked the glossy hair behind her ear. It seemed almost like a nervous tick and she followed it up by checking her wristwatch again. "That is- Hm, okay, I am glad you told me. It would have complicated things if I didn't know."
At their side, the laptop continued to record the conversation and Joe found herself focusing on the fact that there was a lot more red than yellow.
"Professor?" Joe asked, not understanding the strange comments about Jimmy. "Complicated what?"
"Nothing." Professor Walker smiled, but it looked strained. "I only assumed he was your man, not Miss Brooks. You saved me from making a social 'faux pas'." She took a sharp breath and gestured to the papers in front of Joe. "I trust you have had time to look over the questionnaire? Do you understand the reasoning behind each question?"
Even as they went back to the business at hand, Professor Walker kept checking her wristwatch. Joe looked at her phone to see what time it was and if they were running late, but was distracted by another unopened text from Derek. Aware that Professor Walker was still talking, Joe's finger hovered over the cell-phone screen. Was he angry? Or worse, was he not angry? It would be easiest if he was angry, she could handle angry-Derek better than thoughtful-Derek.
"Miss Delgado?" Professor Walker realized she had lost her audience and tried to get her attention back. "Josefina? Are you alright?"
"Hm? Yes, uh, yeah, I'm fine," Joe said and before she could overthink it, she opened the text from Derek. "Just a- just a text."
Lobito: Drive safe.
Oh yes, she could definitely handle angry-Derek better than sweet-Derek. Three weeks seemed a bit excessive now, to be honest. The other texts were just questions if they could talk and if she was okay. Three weeks was definitely too long without talking. She could call him after the meeting in Sacramento.
"Josefina?"
"Oh, shit, sorry." Joe hastily put the phone on the table, face down as she realized she'd zoned out again instead of listening to her mentor. "I'm sorry, I'm just, uh, sorry."
The Professor gave her a knowing smile that was tinged with sadness for some reason. "Don't worry, we have all been there. I was young once too, you know." At Joe's blank and slightly panicked look, Professor Walker tilted her head. "That was your man, wasn't it? Derek Hale, right?"
"Yeah, it was..." Joe trailed off again, eyes narrowing. Had she ever mentioned Derek to either Professor Walker? Or Kane for that matter? No. "How did you-"
"Do you have what you need?"
Joe looked up to the side of the table, expecting to see the middle-aged waitress from before. Instead, it was the woman who had smiled at Joe before — up close she was more than pretty, Joe realized, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Shiny pin-straight black hair, dressed immaculately in a pair of linen slacks and a white shirt she looked as out of place in the diner as Professor walker. Joe furrowed her brows — no way did this woman work here.
"Yes," Professor Walker said to answer the woman's question. "I think that would be sufficient. There is one out in the car as well."
A chill went down Joe's spine as she looked between the two women. Her eyes traveled the entire diner, finding it completely empty. Cook and waitress were nowhere to be seen.
Something was wrong, every instinct screamed at Joe to get out of there.
"He's already taken care of."
"What?" Joe snapped and tore herself around to stare out the window. The driver-side door of her car stood wide open, no sign of Jimmy. She turned around to look at the woman. "Wh-"
A cloud of yellow dust hit her in the face.
Coughing and sputtering, she tried to dislodge the tiny particles, but they got everywhere. Up her nose, in her eyes, down her throat. Waving her hand only seemed to add to the density and her eyes watered. For some reason, she thought of Christmas, which was a surefire sign she was losing it.
Fighting her way out of the booth, she found her legs giving away under her. Like the ketamine, her muscles were heavy and limp and she more or less sagged down to the floor instead of falling. Her cheek hit the cold tile, vision spinning around. Not again. She was not getting kidnapped again.
"This was the best way, Sarah," the mystery woman said somewhere above Joe.
Professor Walker sounded vexed beyond belief. Or scared. "We're even now. I never want to hear from you again."
"You do your part," the words seesawed in and out of Joe's mind, the smooth voice of the second woman making her dizzy, "and we'll do ours."
Not getting kidnapped. Not getting kidnapped. Not getting fucking kidnapped. The words went on repeat inside Joe's skull, everything she could think of and the sheer anger at someone trying to kidnap her again fueled her muscles to move. She reached for her phone, but remembered it was still up on the table.
"I need your word," said Professor Walker. "You're going to leave me and my wife alone."
Urging her muscles to work, Joe clawed her hand up in front of her on the floor. If she could get to the car, to Jimmy, to the shotgun, to Derek, she would be fine. She would not be kidnapped. She was not getting kidnapped.
"You have our word, Sarah. Remember, this is the easy way. No one else has to die."
Joe continued to struggle over the tiled floors. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered how dirty it was, how many ketchup-stains and oil smears she was wiggling across. Didn't matter. She was moving, she could see the door, she could get away.
"There is too much blood on your hands already for you to say that." Professor Walker did not sound convinced and neither did Joe. Her head swam, vision blurring, but she was still moving. Professor Walker spoke softly now: "Do they know who she is? That she's Rob Delgado's daughter?"
Dad. A fact she could ponder later, now she just had to move. Arms were working best, but her legs had overcome the initial heaviness as well and she army-crawled towards the exit.
"Don't worry."
A third voice. Male, faint remnants of a British accent. It barely registered, along with Walker's surprised gasp, as Joe forced herself to keep moving at a snail's pace.
"I know exactly whose daughter she is."
She became aware of a slight tapping noise on the tiled floor, moving closer, faster than she was able to slither with half her body still fighting whatever the hell had been in that dust.
"Have you gotten your herbs mixed up, Marin?" the man asked, sounding more amused than annoyed. "It would seem young Josefina here is resisting just as the Demi outside."
"If I had known he was a Demi," the mystery woman, obviously named Marin, answered in a calm voice, "I wouldn't have used wolfsbane." A shadow fell over her as the woman's heels clicked on the floor. "It is curious though, why this one is resisting the mistletoe."
A gentle hand pushed Joe onto her back where her eyes struggled to focus on the moving shapes. Her gaze landed on Professor Walker, who was clutching the laptop to her chest. Words slurred, she asked: "Wh- why?"
The full question was: Why are you doing this and who are these people and oh my God you are a lesbian and can you believe that Kyle has a better gaydar than me and what the hell is going on anyway and why is everyone always trying to kidnap me?
Professor Walker looked down. She addressed the man who was still out of view from Joe. "Do I have your word you won't kill her?"
On her back, Joe's body still listened to that one incessant command going on repeat: Not getting kidnapped, not getting kidnapped, not getting kidnapped and she scooted backward.
The beautiful face of the woman named Marin came briefly into focus. It disappeared behind another cloud of dust, this one purple. Purple, like Jimmy's eyes. Like wolfsbane.
Already weak, she had no chance of fighting it. She tried, fingertips clawing onto the tiled floor, grasping weakly for a holding point.
"Kill her?" The man sounded amused and another shadow came over her. "Why would I want to do that?" His face was a blur, but she caught sight of sandy blonde hair and a pair of glasses he now removed. "I'm not a simple psychopath, Sarah. I'm all about," his eyes opened and Joe was helpless not looking into them, "new talent."
Not getting kidnapped, Joe thought and tried to move. Her body didn't listen. Not getting kidnapped. Joe only saw red. Not getting kidnapped. Red red red. Not getting kidnapped. Not Derek's red, but still red.
She was not getting kidnapped.
Was not...kidnapped.
Not...
No.
Eyes rolling back into her skull, Joe fell beneath the heavy wave of unconsciousness. She still saw red.
Alpha red.
...
dun dun dun DUN!
How's that for a cliffhanger?
And to make matters worse, I'm taking a week off posting now, meaning the next update will be January 21st (and hopefully the US will still be standing by then).
Obviously, the Halegado-ship's gonna have to weather one more storm before it's smooth sailing.
Have patience with them, please, and trust that I (sort of) know what I'm doing here. We're moving onto the final act.
Also, Joe is embarrassed as hell if you couldn't tell and she's not really sure how to deal with it regarding Derek. Have patience with her especially. Although I'm really happy you guys approved of the oh-we're-not-just-glossing-over-all-the-bad stuff in the last chapter! JoyDG, to answer your comment on Joe being more concerned about Derek's feelings this time, it's simply because of the immense guilt she's feeling if that makes sense.
Thank you so much for reading, guys, please let me know what you think! I love love love your thoughts, theories, and occasional questions!
Feel free to PM me as well :)
Stay safe and healthy!