Chapter 61: The Returned II
Ah, there she is, the True Mate.
Numb, tired, and hurt, Joe found herself just staring at Derek when she slipped back into the hospital room after talking with Aunt Mel.
He hadn't known.
No change in either his or Jimmy's condition. Both completely out cold. Scott had told her what happened as they cleaned the morgue earlier — Derek had locked himself into the boiler room of the high school to hold off Cora and Boyd, to stop them from tearing apart a teacher or something. Instead, they tried to tear apart Derek.
Just the memory had her pull the t-shirt away from her own skin. It had felt like she was butchered alive. At least the little she could remember before everything went into a white-hot rage.
He hadn't known.
With conflicting emotions, she continued to watch him. It was not fair someone should look that good while exhausted and asleep. His t-shirt had splotches of red on it after Joe caught him with her blood-stained gloves. Thick black hair in disarrayed spikes on his head, more stubble coming in even after they woke up...together. No matter what happened, she could live a while on that memory. Of the kiss on the inside of her wrist, gentle as a butterfly landing.
She wanted to touch him. Every instinct craved it. Touch him, feel him, smell him, taste him. Looking at her own hands, she flexed them. Washed them several times already, but still felt the blood coating them. Things had gone wrong last night. Really wrong. Did not want to touch him with these hands. Dirty hands.
As absolutely perfect as the first moments after waking up had been, there had been something missing. Now she knew what. He didn't know. She had no idea how he didn't know, but he obviously didn't. How was she going to tell him? Hadn't she spent countless moments in endless guilt for how her absence must affect him? How he was undoubtedly blaming himself? Again, like he was always shouldering the blame for everything that happened?
He hadn't known.
And, if she was being honest, wasn't the realization that they hadn't even noticed she was gone burning a scream into her lungs that threatened to escape?
Derek stirred when Aunt Mel popped back in with a small bundle of clothes and a pair of sneakers for Joe. After she was done lecturing Joe, she had offered to get her a bra and some shoes, asking something about if things had improved between Joe and Derek.
"Listen, I gotta get back to work, but I've called in a favor from the nurse's station that I'm the only one responding to the emergency cord in here, okay? Okay."
And with that, Aunt Mel slipped back out. Joe locked the door behind her.
Dead tired, Joe realized as she met Derek's heavy-lidded eyes. He was not up to speed yet. The room filled with the sound of Jimmy's assisted breathing while Joe just held the clothes in her hands, still numb from the previous realization. Derek didn't know. And the second she told him, he'd lose that soft friendly expression in his eyes when looking at her. He'd know how bad things were, how bad things would get.
If they didn't know, it was because the Alphas had gone to great lengths to keep them from knowing. Why? To what end? What was Deucalion's endgame? He was always ten steps ahead and Joe needed to figure out how to play the game. She needed Jimmy, but he was still unconscious. She hoped he would be human when waking up.
A modesty screen sat next to Jimmy's bed, but she didn't bother with it. Jimmy was out, Derek's eyes drooping shut again and they had both seen all of her at one point or another. With her back to them, because she wasn't going to force them to watch her either, she pulled the t-shirt over her head. Muscles ached, but just from expenditure, not damage.
The bra was her size — she and Aunt Mel wore the same size in most things — and Joe slipped on the conservative wireless bra with as much sex-appeal as a toilet brush. Work bra, Joe thought, but it gave the support her modest assets needed. Pulling the t-shirt back on and taking her matted curls out from where they stuck in the collar, she felt watched.
Sure enough, Derek had not drifted back to sleep and was watching her when she turned around. Tired expression, nothing dark or enticing. Mostly worried. Angry? If he had thought she had taken mountain ash-pills since she left Beacon Hills, that was understandable. The thought was almost enough to make her cry. Almost. Hadn't cried in a long time now.
She wanted to touch him so bad. And it was selfish, but she could allow herself to be selfish for just a few minutes more, right? As Joe passed him on the way to the other chair, she ran her hand over his cheek, over the stubble growing more into a beard. It was meant as a fleeting caress, but he caught her hand and subsequently halted her movement.
Confusion, anger, tenderness — somehow his face seemed to hold all of that at once. "What happened last night?"
He deserved to know and Joe swore she was going to tell him, but the words that came out were: "I don't know."
Because the second she told him, it was over, and couldn't she please just have this a while longer? This peace and resemblance of normalcy? She doubted the motive from keeping her friends and family in the dark was so she could return without drama, but it was her motive right now for not telling him. If she could have these moments until she figured out why and how...
He regarded her, but she was not lying outright and he was tired, so he eventually nodded. "We still need to talk, Joe."
That had her drop her hand from his face and she bent down to put on socks and sneakers, avoiding his eyes. "I know."
He didn't know.
"It's been three months."
So how didn't he know?
"I know," she said, which was true because he just told her and now she did know. It was almost like she thought she had slipped into an alternate dimension. How could she have been gone for three months and no one had noticed? Why had no one sounded the alarm? Joe knew she was good at cutting people off, but not that good. Right?
Had they really thought she left them? Just like that? Did they really think she cared so little about them? That hurt worse, she realized. That hurt a lot.
"That's it?" Derek asked, eyebrows raised in slight anger. "You know?"
Too many unknowns, too many variables — Joe was losing the game. She risked a glance at Derek. "I'm sorry?" It sounded like a question and she realigned her mind. "I'm sorry. For...everything. I messed up."
An understatement so wild it could be considered sacrilege.
She sighed as she watched Jimmy, still completely out cold. Because of her. Everything because of her. "You okay, Derek?"
He didn't answer. His face drawn in a frown, he also watched Jimmy now, whose intubated chest moved up and down with the sound of the machine. "What was he doing in the woods?"
She shrugged, which was not an answer and she hated herself for it. She had to tell him. She had to tell him everything, but was that what the Alphas wanted? Or did they want her not to tell him? This game...she hated it. A game with changing rules and endless repetitions. Every plan, every tactic, every move they had pulled — everything failed.
Derek glanced over at her. He knew something wasn't right, he just didn't know what yet. "If the Alphas came after Jimmy, they might come after you too. You might be in danger."
"Yeah," Joe said, watching Derek watching Jimmy again. He didn't even know half of it. He didn't even know any of it. "I know."
Like I told you, I'm all about finding and developing new talent.
A loud scraping noise as Joe's body spasmed involuntarily and she opened her eyes. Noise just from the chair moving on the linoleum floor. Blinking to get her eyes open, she sat up. Must have dozed off. Shaking off the voice and sleep, she found herself staring straight into the scrutinizing eyes of Cora Hale.
"Jesus Christ," Joe muttered and pulled away from her questioning gaze. That was a lot to stomach when just waking up. "Personal space, Baby Hale."
"What?"
As she blinked, the eyes grew brighter and turned out to be Derek's. Accompanied with a raised brow, as usual.
"Did you just call me 'baby'?"
She shook her head. Cora's eyes were brown, Derek's green, but apparently similar enough for her to get confused. They were in the hospital — her mind had taken her back to the vault. "No. Sorry, I just..." Joe rubbed her face and blinked again. "Sorry."
Glancing over at the bed, she nearly fell off the chair. Empty.
"Where is he?" she asked and got up, already heading for the door. The intubation tube laid next to the bed, disconnected, and with pink blood splotches. No sign of Jimmy. "Derek, where is he?" She got out, peered down either side of the hallway, feeling the blood rush start to her head, the tightening in her chest. "Where-"
"Melissa took him to the showers." Derek gave her a worried glance, one she probably earned, and gently pulled her back into the room. "He was covered in blood and antibacterial gel —complained about the smell."
"He woke up? Why didn't you wake me?" she demanded, chest still heaving with hard-earned breaths. "Was he healed? Was he-"
fit for fight?
"Partially," Derek said slowly and closed the door after glancing out of it. "He's right down the hall."
Joe nodded, even though she didn't mean it. It wasn't okay. "You can hear them?"
His mouth tightened, but he nodded. Thank God. If Derek could hear them, they were okay. Joe rubbed her face with both hands, ran it through the matted strands of hair, leaning back to get more air into her lungs. It almost felt like it was her lung that collapsed now. Her rib cage caving in after a desperate, angry strike.
"Joe-"
Derek reached out for her, but she involuntarily flinched away. Hard. Too hard. The flicker of worry in his eyes as he dropped the arm and Joe swallowed. He couldn't know. He had no way of knowing. And still, in his face, she saw understanding. Her chemosignals, probably. He could smell how nervous she was.
"Sorry," she said breathlessly and hugged herself, wishing it was him, knowing it couldn't be. "Sorry, I'm just jumpy."
He kept his distance, but nodded. Looked worried. Not a look she liked.
Eventually, Jimmy returned and Joe could breathe a little easier when she saw him walking on his own. Wincing with each step, hard of breath, but at least walking even with Aunt Mel hovering nearby, ready to catch him if he fell. Light brown hair wet on top of his head, jaw flexed — he'd gotten rid of the beard a while back. Aunt Mel had put him in the hospital scrubs and he looked like an orderly.
"Can either of you make him turn it off?" Aunt Mel asked with a desperate smile, gesturing to her own eyes. "Makes for an awkward icebreaker, if you know what I mean."
Grumbling, Jimmy looked up — his eyes glowed purple. "As much as I approve of the effect, talking about me in the third person will not improve matters." He sat down on the bed, aided by Aunt Mel and Joe. "My body is still on high alert, hence the eyes."
"What happened to you?" Derek asked. He'd gone back to vigilant and watchful, standing with crossed arms in front of the bed.
"I got between an Alpha and its prey," Jimmy said easily, although he did grit his teeth and glance at Joe, who tried to ignore him the best she could. She did not worry about Jimmy outing her just yet, he hoarded information like gold. "This time, it proved less fatal."
Now Derek shifted his alert gaze to Joe. "They attacked you both?"
She shook her head. They hadn't. Derek gave an uncertain nod — he knew something was wrong now — but refocused on Jimmy.
"Okay, can you lay back for a sec? I gotta check your bandages," Aunt Mel told Jimmy, not caring about the staring competition between him and Derek. "Joe, a hand please."
Keeping an eye on Jimmy in case he lashed out — he had every reason to be angry — Joe stepped forward to help him lay down on the bed. His purple eyes were even more disconcerting than Derek's, especially at this proximity, and he met her stare evenly. He was not happy, but that might be because Aunt Mel had lifted the gauze of his chest and prodded the surrounding flesh.
"It's not a hundred percent there," Aunt Mel admitted. "But it's a lot better. How is your breathing?"
"Strained," Jimmy bit out and lowered the t-shirt back to cover himself. The glow disappeared as he blinked slowly. "It will take days before I am fully up to speed."
Joe bit her lip, forgetting Derek should have been able to feel it. They did not have days.
"But you will heal, right?" Aunt Mel took off her gloves and gave another nervous smile. "Not to kick anyone out here, but if you're staying, I have to admit you as a patient."
"He can stay at the loft-"
"No!" Joe and Jimmy chorused and then glanced at each other. Jimmy took over. "Just take me to my apartment. It will be safer."
Joe could feel Derek's eyes bore into her again. She looked at Jimmy before nodding. "Apartment is safe. I'll go with you."
As they were filing out to leave, Jimmy and Derek glaring daggers at each other already, Aunt Mel pulled Joe aside for a quick hug, one that Joe clung to like a lifeline for a little longer than necessary.
"Not really how I pictured your welcome home-party," Aunt Mel said with a short laugh and Joe tried to fake a smile to go with it. She didn't know. They didn't know. "But we have to talk. I'm sorry, I know you hate those kinds of talks, but you owe me a good explanation and I want to hear everything. Including how you spent two months in San Diego without getting a real tan. In fact, I don't think I've seen you this pale before. You've really been busy, huh?"
Joe's smile grew stiffer. "Yeah."
"Okay." Aunt Mel tilted her head, making sure to get eye contact. "Okay?"
"Okay."
Trust me, I have a good eye for such things.
It was an awkward car ride to the apartment. It seemed like Derek cut every corner he could and every time, Jimmy let out a soft wheeze as his body contracted in the backseat. Joe just rested her head on the passenger-side window, looking at Beacon Hills zoom past. Nothing had changed. A sobering realization that she could be out of the equation for several months and the world moved on without her. Derek moved on without her.
She could feel him glancing over at her, concern written all over his face in a font she suspected only she could read. With Jimmy in the car, she was at least spared the awkward conversation.
Despite the tender moments with Derek at the loft, she could feel the anger seep into her system at the thought of several months where he hadn't even tried to look for her. That he didn't even know she was missing. It threatened to suffocate her. They hadn't known. And they still did not know.
Three long months gone and she could really only remember two if she tried. Joe touched the back of her neck, an old reflex, but there were no scars. Healed.
What had he been doing for the last months? Not biting any other self-deprecating teenagers by the looks of it, but that might be because Beacon Hills was all out of those. Not building his pack, not gathering strength. Unless... Now she glanced over at him. More muscles. Stronger? Preparing for a fight? Did he know something?
"Feels weird to be back here," Joe murmured when they pulled up outside the laundromat because someone had to say something. Everything looked the same, except for the posters on the laundromat wall that had changed to include the summer concerts and events that she and Jimmy had missed. It had been months.
Parking on the curb, Derek left the car running. Obviously not staying, which was a relief on its own, because she really needed to talk to Jimmy. She got out as Derek did, and pulled the passenger seat forward to let Jimmy out. His eyes still glowed and Joe glanced around, but there was no one to see. This time of the day, downtown Beacon Hills was empty.
Making sure Jimmy saw her movements, she leaned in to help him out.
Derek came around the car and nearly rolling his eyes, put his arm around Jimmy to help him walk before Joe could issue a warning.
"Get off me!" Jimmy spat and pushed Derek with more force than strictly necessary. His teeth gritted as Derek heeded his request, eyebrows coming up in surprise. "I can walk just fine, Hale."
They watched Jimmy force himself to the front doors, fumbling with keys they had pulled out of his old clothes.
"Sorry, he's..." Joe cleared her throat, not sure how to explain right now. "Sorry."
Without thinking, she went to follow Jimmy, but Derek carefully held his arm out — not touching her — to have her pause.
"We still need to talk," he reminded her and when he was sure she wasn't going anywhere, he crossed his arms and leaned on the side of his car. "What happened with Jimmy? How did he end up in the woods? When did you get to the loft?"
Too many loose ends. He deserved answers, but she feared it would break them both. Separate them for good. Everything breaks under enough pressure.
"Can we talk later?" she asked, trying to remember the person she had been before. "I'm way overdue for a shower. You're being polite, but I know you can smell me pretty well."
"I like how you smell, Joe," Derek said with a tilt to his head, but no discernable emotion in his voice. Listening for lies on her end, but she wasn't telling any. "Last time you said we'd talk later, you left town. And you said three weeks, not three months."
Three months. Three months. Three months. So many questions. Why hadn't he called? Why did no one look for her? How did no one realize something was wrong? It all felt like some kind of prank or a hidden camera-skit. Scott, Aunt Mel, Derek, Dad... she needed more answers before she could get angry. Because she wanted to get angry.
And she was lucky he was tired because he was understandably pissed off. Everything made more sense now, even if it didn't.
"Can you give me three hours?" Joe asked and her heart ached at the tired huff, a sharp exhale from his nose as he looked so unimpressed with her that she wanted to die. "Please?"
She had missed him so much and he thought she had been traipsing around in San Diego all this time. Had she been that angry with him when she left? He had thought she'd gone back to the goddamn mountain ash-pills, so maybe. He hadn't been angry when they woke up today, but he had mentioned something about accepting her apology. Probably thought that was her motivation for climbing into his bed, which was humiliating on its own, but not a point she could focus on right now.
If she could tell him the truth the right way, maybe the fallout wouldn't be so bad? Maybe she could help him? Maybe they could get through it?
Again, all the things she wanted to say to him pressed themselves against her mouth. All the things she promised she would tell him if she got out alive. All the things he deserved to know. And yet, she swallowed them, buried them. Daydreams and fairytales. He hadn't even known she was gone.
"Where's your car?"
Stuck in her own mind, she realized Derek was scanning the laundromat's parking lot. It was a good question. She had no idea. But it wasn't here where he had expected it to be.
"Professor Walker probably has it," Joe tried and hated that she was bluffing. It was close enough to the perceived truth that he would not pick up on the lie. If nothing else, the last three months had taught her how to lie to werewolves. It did make her feel awful though, so she sighed deeply. "Um, thank you, again, for helping Jimmy. I know you're not his biggest fan, so..."
Instead of answering, Derek tilted his head at her again. "You okay? You want me to stay?"
No matter what she answered now, it would be a lie. She desperately wanted him to stay and at the same time, she needed to talk to Jimmy first. Needed him to make it make sense.
Shaking her head, and without thinking, Joe stepped forwards and looped her arms around Derek's neck to hug him. Served both as a distraction from his question and a way to get her instincts to stop nagging her.
His body stiffened at first, surprised, but it molded to fit hers and his arms squeezed around her waist. Warm and safe and she had missed him so much. Joe leaned her head into his neck, the strongest source of his smell, and resisted the temptation to bite her lip when it filled her mind. She had missed his smell.
Except... Her brows furrowed from the mixed signals to her brain. His scent had a weird lingering aftertaste if that made sense. Almost tainted, like her.
"Thank you," she said again and pulled away, letting his burning hands slip from her waist to his sides as she looked everywhere but his face. "I should get up there in case he passed out on the stairs or something. No, it's okay, I got it." She gestured to indicate Derek should get in his car. "I'll see you later."
He nodded, but she felt his eyes on her as she powerwalked into the apartment building where Jimmy had propped the front door open. Joe made sure the door closed behind her properly. It felt like it was over, but they were still out there. She could be playing right into their hands for all she knew.
The floorboards squeaked as she trudged up the stairs, down the hall, and into the apartment. For some reason her heart pounded in her chest — she was still on high alert, even if her eyes didn't glow like Jimmy's.
An intense sensation of deja vu came over her as she saw Jimmy sitting in his usual spot by his computer. The machine was off though and Jimmy was just staring into thin air, looking as lost as she felt.
Locking up behind her, Joe took a few tentative steps into the apartment and hopped up on the kitchen island. Neither said anything, but she recognized the look on Jimmy's face that he was using more than his human senses.
"He's gone," he said eventually, probably meaning Derek. Joe nodded and again, just let her focus drift over the familiar layout of the place. It didn't feel real.
Simultaneously, she and Jimmy looked at each other with blank faces. For a while, they just stared. Having the chance to breathe and think, Joe found herself not really wanting to.
"I don't-" Jimmy cleared his throat and tried again. "I don't think I've ever had a plan fail at literally every step."
He shifted around to accommodate his still-healing wounds. The plan. Joe had almost forgotten about it until now. They'd had a plan and Jimmy was right, it had failed. Even if they were out, if Cora and Boyd were out, it had failed.
Not sure what to say, Joe kept quiet and looked out the windows at Beacon Hills.
Eventually, Jimmy asked: "What the hell happened to you last night?"
Joe filled him in; what she remembered, what she had been told, and everything that had gone wrong. She stopped when Jimmy let out a low, rumbling growl.
"Sorry," he said when he caught himself and she saw his jaw shift as the canines retracted. "The good news is that Cora and Boyd are, presumably, safe." Both looked down — those were the only good news. He cleared his throat again. "At least the boiler room explains why you lost it. And why you left me in the woods earlier. Thank you for that, by the way."
She recalled the rustling that had spurred her hasty getaway from the creek. "Shit. That was you. Sorry, I was-"
"Terrified, I know, you reeked off it. Unfortunately, I lacked the lung capacity to call your name." No point in correcting him, Joe had accepted that she would 'reek' occasionally to werewolf-noses. In an uncharacteristic gentle voice, he asked: "Do you remember everything that happened?"
A scream blocked her throat, so Joe only nodded. Complete silence reigned in the apartment, apart from the slight buzzing of the refrigerator still running.
"Do you," Jimmy hesitated, "feel different?"
"No." Trying to keep a neutral tone, she said: "Thank you for, you know, trying to stop me." Her mind conjured up images she pushed down again, images of yellow eyes fading to hazel and then to nothing. "And sorry for, you know, trying to kill you for trying to stop me."
He hesitated again. "I know a few things about losing control, Delgado. You should not harbor any guilt on my behalf. Thank you for taking me to the hospital instead of performing field surgery on me yourself as I'm sure you would have."
After a moment of silence, enhanced by the weird feeling of being in the apartment, Jimmy sighed. "This wasn't your fault, Joe."
"Then whose was it?"
"The ones who set you up in the first place." Both waited as Jimmy got his mouth back under control, as another snarl had erupted. "Have you told Derek what happened?"
An unbidden harsh laugh came from Joe. "No."
More silence, Joe just trying to come to terms with this new reality. Now the three previous months felt like a dream — or a bad nightmare. Not entirely real. Or was it this that wasn't real?
"Joe?"
"No," she repeated. "They don't-" Joe had to force herself to talk in a normal volume. It was surreal to be back here. Downright surreal. "They don't even know where we've been." She explained it as best she could and he listened. "I don't know how, but there's no way they know what happened."
At least she hoped not. She waited for a reaction from Jimmy, ready to coax him back if he went too feral, but he let out a long sigh instead.
"I see," Jimmy said and slipped off his chair onto the floor to lie down.
"You see?" Joe snapped, pressing down on that scream now permanently lodged in her throat.
"Well," he said patiently as he addressed the ceiling, "we know no one would be looking for me. But it does seem strange no one looked for you."
"Strange," she repeated, voice shaking. "Strange? That's it? Strange?"
"If you give me a few hours I promise you I will approach the problem with utmost rationality. As of now," he winced and his shifting indicated he found it hard to relax, "I am not entirely sure I can get back on my feet unassisted so I will lie on the floor for a while," he groaned "and wallow in misery."
Unable to sit still anymore, Joe hopped off the counter. Her eyes fell on a few coffee mugs in the sink, half-filled with brownish water. Everything seemed too normal and it was freaking her out. "Are you sure this place is safe?"
He made a noise of contentment. "Probably the most werewolf-proof place in town after the vet clinic." Volume grew as he snapped: "No, wait, don't-"
Still feeling the prickling in the back of her neck, Joe had opened the fridge to distract herself. They had been gone for three months. The food had waited patiently for their return and decided to undergo mutation in the meantime.
It reeked of rotten eggs and mold.
Gagging, Joe slammed the door shut and she could hear Jimmy retching on the floor. If that smelled bad to her nose, it must have overpowered him completely.
"Sorry! Are you," Joe put her arm over her face as she gagged again, "okay?"
Jimmy, coughing and crawling away on the floor, retched again. "Fine."
Waving her hand in front of her, Joe hurried to put on the exhaust fan, hoping it would help.
"Are you gonna vomit?" she asked, feeling the urge herself, but Jimmy was too busy coughing to answer. "Do any of these windows open?"
"N-no."
"What is the point of windows you can't open?!"
"They open, but it'll-" Another retch. "It'll break the seal," Jimmy croaked from the other side of the room.
"So it's either werewolves or vomit?"
They stared at each other, Jimmy on the floor with his eyes watering and Joe with her collar pulled over her nose. Complete silence for a few seconds, before they both burst out laughing.
It was not funny. It was not funny at all and it was that kind of desperate laughter where the only alternative was crying. Joe could still feel it in her chest, the intense sobbing threatening to escape, the scream at the absurdity of it all. Was this real?
Their laughing echoed in the apartment and Joe slid down to the floor next to Jimmy under the wall where the map of Beacon Hills still hung, plotted with the runaway betas' last movements.
"I'm sorry," she repeated, still laughing, and Jimmy just shook his head, still coughing
The laughter died out into a tense silence, only punctured by Jimmy's labored breathing and the still-running exhaust fan.
"I have to go back there," Joe eventually said. There was nothing left in her, nothing but numbness and despair. Jimmy's purple eyes glowed in the growing darkness of the room. "I have to go back to the loft."
"Tomorrow." Jimmy adjusted himself again. "You should sleep first. Rest. Fresh perspective."
"You think I'm gonna lose it?" Joe challenged, hearing the bite in her tone. She shook her head, trying to clear it. "I have to check on Cora and," she gasped for air, letting it out slowly, "somehow tell them. Everything. Or do I not tell them? What do the Alphas expect me to do? What does he want?"
"Doesn't matter what you do. He's a master strategist with decades of experience. We don't even know his real age. Whatever you choose to do, he will have a mitigation to account for it." His words sent a chill down Joe's spine. "I'm still not entirely sure we're out because we wanted it or he did."
Her voice felt raw. "I played right into their hands last night." Glaring at her trembling hands, she flexed them, hoping to convince her body they weren't covered in blood. "She trusted me, Jimmy, and I failed her."
"We both failed her." A groan of discomfort as he sat up against the wall. "And for the record, I think we're both going to lose it sooner or later." He hesitated. "Do you want to cry?"
She did, but the absurdity of the question made her laugh instead. "I gotta go to the loft."
"Tomorrow," he repeated. "We have been gone for nearly three months, what does a day's difference make?"
"Maybe nothing," she admitted and pushed herself off the floor as she pushed all the bad thoughts away. "But we both know I won't be able to sleep anyway. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm three months overdue for a real shower."
Reluctantly, Jimmy let her help him to his bedroom so he could pass out in his bed instead of on the floor.
The bathroom was still messy from when they left. Down to the toothpaste laying with the cap open and an empty toilet paper roll sitting on top of the trashcan instead of in it. Surreal. Looked the same, felt different.
She stripped slowly out of Derek's clothes — they didn't smell like him anyway, just of her rancid sweat. The fact that he had managed to hug her with his enhanced sense of smell proved their mate bond more than anything.
Joe paused in front of the mirror, showing her from the hips up, nude. Prodding her stomach, the newfound baby abs, how taut it laid over her hip bones. No burgers the last few months and it showed. The second Jimmy was up and running, they were definitely ordering take-out. Her hair had gotten long too, so that it covered her breasts when she stood upright. Apart from that, she looked the same.
With a wry grin to her reflection, she leaned forwards and bared her teeth, pushing up her lip to check for canines. Nope. Nothing. She made a growling face at the mirror, but laughed at how stupid she looked. The laughter turned into sobs. Gripping the edges of the sink, she leaned forwards, wanting to smash her head into the mirror. Her chest ached as she tried to hold it in; no use worrying Jimmy, no use being a crybaby.
She looked the same!
She looked exactly the same as the girl who'd wandered out into the hallway one night and found a strange man there talking about Scott. Exactly the same as the girl who had chased what she believed was a murderer around town, uncovering conspiracies and accidentally discovering werewolves. Exactly the same as the girl who'd thrown herself headfirst into the fight against kanimas and werewolf hunters. As the girl who'd tried so hard to find Erica and Boyd.
Well, she found them. Haha. Ha.
Joe didn't feel the same. She didn't feel like Joe.
Her eyes fell to a pair of scissors Jimmy used to trim his beard, back when he still had one. She glanced back at herself in the mirror. One hand gripped her curls, the other reached for the scissors.
You know, losing my sight enhanced my other senses...
"I'm not saying you're not entitled to a little self-realization haircut," Jimmy said as he came out of the bathroom after she was done, "I just wish you didn't do it over the sink. There is hair everywhere, Delgado."
With a growl, he held up his toothbrush as Exhibit A. His healing must have accelerated from when he slept, he seemed to be feeling a bit better. Or she had spent longer in the bathroom than anticipated.
At the sight of her pulling on a pair of jeans, Jimmy rolled his eyes. "What is it with girls and thinking getting bangs will be life-changing?"
Joe inhaled deeply, trying to prepare herself for going back to the loft. "Sorry."
His voice came from the bathroom again. "This is disgusting."
Drama queen, she thought, as she did get most of her hair out of the bathroom. She'd cut off probably twelve inches of her thick dark curls, leaving it just below her jawline, and then proceeded to give herself bangs. So there had been a lot of hair in the bathroom. The bangs turned out better than the last time she tried the same in juvie, where she ended up looking like Courtney Cox in Scream 3.
"I give up. I'm getting the vacuum. You owe me a new toothbrush."
She didn't pay him attention, just picked up a pair of her own sneakers from the back of her closet. In the midst of putting them on, she heard Jimmy come up behind her. It occurred to her that Jimmy was making noise when he moved and she wondered if he did it for her benefit.
"You don't have to do this today," he pointed out from where he lingered in the doorway to Joe's room. "It will drain you completely."
"I have to tell him before Cora or Boyd," Joe offered as an explanation. Both her and Jimmy's eyes flickered down to Joe's hands — they were not steady, but not downright trembling either. "And I want to know how this could happen. I need to know."
She needed to know there was some sort of explanation. She needed it to make sense.
...and there is something just underneath the surface with you.
The second she stepped into the loft, she knew this was going to go south.
First of all, Scott and Stiles were still there, just like Peter was. That meant no chance of a quiet, private conversation with Derek where she could lay out everything in the gentlest possible way.
All of them, including Isaac, stood around the table where she could see dried spots of blood after Jimmy's short visit. All of them gave her a strange look. Alarm bells started going off at once. Had they figured it out? Was she too late? Did they already hate her?
"Hey," she said, shrinking under the joint scrutiny, and she scanned the room for other occupants. No Cora, no Boyd. "What's going on?"
Why did Derek look mad? He had a tightness to his jaw she hadn't seen for a while — well, she hadn't seen any of him for a while — but this was reminiscent of how he looked in the locker room when Joe had accused him of being a failure.
Hard to tell if it was his anger she felt or if it was her own, but she felt herself bristle in response. He had no right to be angry with her.
"Really?" Stiles questioned, also looking annoyed. "You couldn't just have said you were on your way?"
Phone in his hand, she realized. It was a clue.
"Nice hair," Derek said and his voice was sharp. His arms were folded and he had his body turned halfway away from her at the table. "You have time for a haircut, but not to unblock my number?"
Oh, he was pissed off. Her blood boiled in her own veins and she met his glare evenly. Another clue, she thought, about his number. She narrowed her eyes, about to reply, but Scott cut in front of her.
"Are you okay?" Even he sounded a bit vexed, but doing his best to hide it. "Did Jimmy tell you what happened? Was it the Alphas?"
She shook her head — it was an answer to all his questions.
At least Scott caught on that something was not quite right — Derek too busy sulking by the windows — and he tilted his head, brows pulling together in puzzlement. "Did you drive all night? Only, you have this look in your eyes you only get when you don't sleep and I haven't seen you like that since before you broke up with-"
Scott cut himself off, maybe because of her expression or he sensed Derek's increasingly building anger.
Alex? Was that another clue? She couldn't help the short laugh that escaped — had Derek thought she had run away to be with Alex? Was Alex in on it as well? If Professor Walker could betray her, who's to say Alex couldn't too? Or Kelly? Or Kyle or Maddy anyone else she had ever met in her life? Could she trust anyone?
The laugh died in her throat when she noticed what was on the table. Blueprints. For Beacon Hills First National Bank. The name caught her attention because she remembered the case; it had been shut down after a robbery a few years back.
Abandoned bank. Bank vault. Vault.
Not even considering her audience, she stepped up and traced the drawings, finding the vault easily. Beacon Hills. They had kept them in Beacon Hills this whole fucking time. Her veins filled with ice at the thought — so close and so far away all this time.
The vault. Scott had only told her bits and pieces to fill her in earlier, that they somehow got Cora and Boyd out of the vault.
"How did you get in?" she asked carefully, looking for more clues.
The walls were at least two feet thick and made of solid moonstone, the door even thicker; bank vaults were known for being hard to break into. And where had the Alphas been in the meantime? Ennis and the twins had taken Joe and Erica out to the abandoned mall — she shuddered at the memory — but Deucalion and Kali would still have been at the bank.
"Derek, uh, punched through the wall," Isaac supplied. She was aware he was watching her carefully, more perceptive than Scott, and less distracted than Derek.
Derek had punched through the wall. The thought went on repeat inside her skull.
"Really?" she said, feeling her heartbeat intensify at the thought. Her glare met Derek's as she tried to keep breathing. So many things had gone wrong last night. "You punched through the wall? You didn't see the sign?"
At least Derek had the foresight to be confused instead of lash out. "What sign?"
"The sign that spelled trap?" She wasn't even aware of how her palm slammed onto the table. "The sign that said it might not be such a good idea to break the seal during the full moon? To release two moonstarved werewolves during the full moon?" Her voice rose in volume as Derek's eyes widened. "Did you do absolutely no reconnaissance? Did no one consider why they kept them in there in the first place? For several months?"
Peter raised a hand lazily. "I did."
"Shut up," Joe barked, not in the mood for him at all. Her glare trained on Derek as she saw how his nostrils flared in badly suppressed anger. "They could have killed someone!"
Or worse, he could have killed them.
To her surprise, it was Stiles who snapped back first: "Well, maybe if you hadn't been too busy being busy all over California and been here to help, we would have had time to do better reconnaissance!"
Busy. There was that word again.
"So I hope you had a nice vacation! Want to know what you've missed?" Stiles listed on his fingers with harsh movements. "Animals are going crazy and committing mass-suicide all over the place! There's an Alpha pack in town and they're sacrificing virgins-"
"They're what?"
Stiles' eyes bugged out of his head. "Are you serious? Are you on drugs or something? How could you not remember that when I called to tell you literally less than twelve hours ago?"
"You talked to me?" Joe asked slowly, head reeling from the important bits of information that made no sense yet and anger burning at all the pieces that did. "Really?
"Yes, that is what people usually do when they answer the phone. Talk."
Scott's brows furrowed. "You okay, Joe?"
Twelve hours ago she would have been fast asleep in Derek's bed and she realized Derek had reached the same conclusion based on his suspicious frown.
"No," she answered Scott before she tilted her head at Stiles. "Are you sure? You talked to me? Not a text, not a voice mail, you talked?"
"Dude, I called you less than ten minutes before you got here!" Stiles' gaze shifted slightly to Derek behind her and his voice came in a rushed tone: "Only because you, uh, apparently blocked Derek's number. But yes, we talked then too."
The phone — a definite clue. Who had her phone? Professor Walker? Her heart hammered almost up in her throat now. "Are you sure you have the right number?"
"Yes!"
"Are you-"
"Oh my God, okay, fine, I'll prove it. If I'm sure-" Stiles sputtered and fought to get his phone back out of pocket. He recited the number out loud as he punched it in — should she worry he had it memorized? — put the phone on speaker, and showed her the screen with a triumphant look.
They all heard the rings on his end.
Scott's face wrinkled in confusion — nothing rang in the loft. "Is your phone on silent?"
"Hello?"
It felt like a layer of ice coated Joe's organs. They all heard the voice picking up on the other end. They all heard Joe's voice picking up on the other end. Joe — the real Joe — stared at the screen showing the caller-ID — her name, her number — and the active call ticking along.
The whole room froze as she held up a finger, not wanting anyone to reply.
How was this possible?
"Hello?" Not-Joe repeated. "Look, I told you I'm really busy right now." Sound of typing on a keyboard. "Can't you send me a text or something? I gotta go. Bye."
It sounded exactly like Joe.
"Call it again," Joe ordered, cutting in front of everyone else who wanted to say something. Stiles just stared at her, wide-eyed and perplexed. She became aware of Derek coming up behind her, touching her back gently, probably sensing her rising panic. Or panicking himself and needing some reassurance this was not some strange dream. "Call it again!"
"Okay, okay." He hurried and re-dialed. This time it rang two times.
"I'm serious, Stiles. Text me. I don't have time to talk," Not-Joe spat before she — presumably a she — hung up.
Joe's mouth was dry. "Again."
This time they didn't pick up.
No one said anything. Everyone either stared at the phone in Stiles' hand or at Joe.
"Who was that?" Scott eventually asked. "Did someone steal your phone?"
"Someone who sounded exactly like you?" Stiles added.
Joe shook her head, unable to answer, because she had no idea. She found herself turning to Derek, saw the confusion and raw anger on his face, saw how it was replaced with concern the second his eyes met hers. He shook his head too, almost like he did not want to believe, his hand still on the small of her back.
And Joe began to laugh. It was not funny. It was not funny at all and she laughed so tears sprang, so her stomach began to ache, so much that she doubled over, stumbling backward until she met the reassuring bulk of Derek's chest and she was dimly aware of how he grabbed her and held her so she wouldn't outright collapse when her legs buckled.
It was the shrill, desperate laugh as before, a hair's width away from sobbing and through the blur of her tearful eyes she could see how Stiles rubbed his head, Scott's mouth hanging open, Peter's head tilted to the side and Isaac's eyes widening with realization. She was glad she couldn't see Derek's expression, because she could feel his anger. He knew. Now he knew.
"You- you haven't been in San Diego, have you?" Stiles eventually asked, his hand holding the phone dropping down.
Through the breathless idiotic giggles, she shook her head and forced out: "No. Didn't even make it to Sacramento."
Now Scott looked at her, his eyes — so much like hers, at least she used to think so — open and wide, lined with panic. It was like he was seeing her for the first time, noticing all the little differences she had seen in the mirror: pale skin, drawn face, wild eyes. "Then where have you been?"
"The vault," Derek answered for her, his voice flat and dead, even if his arms tightened around her. Like she would disappear if he did not actively hold her. Claws extended slightly on his hands, pricking into her arms without piercing skin. He was probably not aware of it, practically vibrating with rage. "She's been in the vault."
At least someone managed to connect the dots.
And the fact that he knew did not make anything easier. It was just the beginning.
Just the thought made Joe's laughter turn into sobs and she could feel tears stain Derek's shirt as he continued to hold her up. She cried into his chest, like at the clinic so many months ago. Ugly, open-mouthed, desperate crying. This was not how she had planned to tell them.
What was going on? Was this even real?
With a weak nod, Scott stumbled back and sat down on the steps, looking more battle-worn than someone his age should be able to.
Peter tilted his head while watching her with a contemplative smirk on his face.
Aaand we're back. Sorry for the confusing last chapter, guys. Not sure how many answers you got in this one, but hopefully things make sense as we go along. There are few easy answers in life and definitely not in this story. On the plus side, you can always count on getting an extra helping of new questions!
Thank you so much for the feedback on the last chapter too! Glad to see there are some of you who want to stick with the story, even as it goes a little dark :)
And thank you to the Guest who reminded me of the Spotify-playlist! Can't post a link, but the playlist is creatively called "Joe Delgado". It's mostly a character-playlist, if that makes sense, where I listen to it to get into Joe's personality. Anyway, if you want, send me song-recommendations (especially for Spanish/Latino music!) that you think might fit Joe :)
Thank you for reading as always, please let me know what you think! Stay safe and healthy, my friends!