Chapter 62: The First Beta II

Something waiting for the right, hm, motivation to emerge.

The blame-game started almost immediately. Before Joe could fully wipe the tears from her eyes, she was acting as a physical barrier between Scott and Derek.

"You knew about the Alpha pack for months and you didn't tell me!" Scott shouted at Derek. "Did you know they took Joe as well?!"

"Of course I didn't know! You told me this was just the way Joe was!" Derek retaliated immediately, held back by Joe's hand on his chest. "That she just needed time! How was I supposed to know something was wrong?!"

"You can literally feel her pain!"

"I thought she was taking the pills! The same pills you tricked her into taking in the first place!"

Joe could feel Derek's heartbeat under her palm as he moved forward — he could crush her arm like dry wood if he wanted, he was held back by pure symbolism.

"Hey!" Joe snapped, putting her other arm up to make sure Scott didn't make things worse by initiating a brawl. "Do you know what's gonna get better if you two fight right now? Absolutely nothing!"

She looked between the two of them, also noting how Isaac had risen from his chair, ready to intervene.

"Also, why are you guys angry when I'm the one who's been locked up for three months without anyone even noticing?"

That made both hotheads take a step back, but they were still glaring more at each other than looking at her. It was infuriating.

"Guys, guys!" Stiles said, hands up with one of them still holding the phone. "Maybe we should worry more about the fact that Joe has an evil doppelganger-"

"That wasn't her," Derek snapped and Joe got the feeling he was seconds away from glowing red eyes. His nostrils flared again. "It was similar, but not identical. It wasn't her."

"Dude, it sounded exactly like Joe."

Even Joe had to agree, but she watched Derek carefully in case he was losing control, almost like she had done with Jimmy for the last month or so.

"I know Joe's voice! That wasn't her." His glare never wavered from Scott. "And you'd hear that too if you had any idea on how to use your senses! If you'd spent a fraction of your time practicing instead of pining over your hunter ex-girlfriend all summer!"

Scott flew forward, only stopped by Isaac pulling on his jacket. "Maybe I'd practice if I knew we were under attack! If I had any idea Joe was in any kind of danger! Danger she's only in because of you!"

"Hey!" Joe yelled to drown out the snarls and shouting. Her hand pushed against Derek's chest, she could feel his strong heartbeat under her palm. "No fighting, guys, are you serious?" She forced herself to take a deep breath, to regain some calm. "Also, again, don't talk about me like I'm not here!"

"Well, you haven't really been here for three months, it's a hard habit to..." Stiles's voice died out as he innocently looked to the side, but Joe wasn't sure if it was her or Derek's glare that made him stop. He huffed and put his hands to his hips. "I knew you wouldn't just blow off virgin sacrifices. Did the Alphas mention anything about that, you know, when you were, uh, held captive?"

She blinked at him, trying to keep up with this turn of events as her hand fell from Derek's chest. "I'm sorry, virgin sacrifices? Like, random virgins? Doesn't sound like their style."

"What- what is their style?" Isaac asked after gently releasing Scott, obviously determining there wouldn't be a fistfight just yet. "Exactly?"

"Uh, ultra-specific targeted long-planned assaults."

"Lovely," commented Peter lazily from where he had gone to lounge in the velour couch, keeping his distance from the near-imminent werewolf scuffle. "What I personally would like to know," he indicated himself with nonchalant movements, "is what the Alpha pack wanted with you." He looked straight at Joe. "I mean, why go through all this trouble to keep your abduction a secret? For three months no less."

"Don't ask me, I literally thought you guys were looking for me this whole time," Joe said, not realizing how bitter she sounded or how everyone but Peter flinched at her words. To be fair, she was allowed to feel bitter. "Great to know you guys think I would just up and leave without warning for three months." Hugging herself, she muttered: "Guess I need to work on my image in that department."

"But it doesn't make any sense," Scott said, sounding and looking lost still, like he did not really want to believe. Like he waited for Joe to yell 'sike' and have a good laugh about it. "How did they pull this off?" He gestured to Stiles' phone. "We even talked to your professor!"

"You talked to Professor Walker?" Joe blinked at the pair of her favorite morons in the world. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Stiles said as Scott nodded fervently, looking close to crying. Stiles held his hand a bit higher than Scott's hair. "Yea high, wears a lot of gray, super intense woman."

"So you met her in person?"

Scott swallowed, sensing an outburst."Yeah?"

"Scott," Joe began icily, rubbing her face again, "what is the point of having all these werewolf senses if you can't even tell when someone's lying? Professor Walker was the one who set me up in the first place!"

Behind her, she heard Derek let out a small annoyed groan and something that sounded suspiciously like: "Idiot."

"Wait, wait, wait, your Criminology-professor set you up?" Stiles wanted to clarify, head hanging loose on his neck, eyes wide like he couldn't believe someone teaching Criminology could ever be bad. "Why?"

"I don't know, Stiles!" Joe shouted and threw her arms up. "She didn't do a whole evil villain-monologue! She just lured my dad out of town and then had me meet in a really suspicious diner in the middle of nowhere and yes, now that I'm saying it out loud it does sound like a trap, but I had no reason to distrust her! Kane is the werewolf-expert, not Walker!"

Rubbing her face, she tried to think back; it felt like a different life and she had stopped trying to analyze what happened at the diner a month in.

"I think they were blackmailing or threatening her or something. She obviously had some kind of history with them. That's all I know."

Joe had unwittingly turned to address Derek as she talked as if he could help her make sense of everything.

He had been watching her in turn with guilt written all over his face, but now his gaze shifted to something behind her. His face softened and she turned to see what he was looking at and nearly collapsed at the sight.

"What's with all the yelling?" Cora Hale, the slightly smaller and female version of Derek, asked as she shuffled out from the top of the spiral staircase, wearing the same as she had last time Joe saw her, a ratty tank top and some jeans. If Derek still looked exhausted, Cora looked to be near death. Her dark hair hung limp around her face where her skin sagged with heavy bags and a frown. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

"Me cago en na'," Joe swore under her breath in relief when seeing that Cora, although beat, was otherwise unharmed. Joe sagged against the table and looked up to where Cora stood squinting down at them. "Cora, ¿estás bien?" Are you okay?

"I could ask you that," Cora said, switching seamlessly to Spanish.

She didn't seem surprised to see Joe, but Joe had stopped being amazed at what it took to throw Cora for a loop. Even though their initial introduction in the vault had been rocky, she had accepted facts without much argument after a short while.

For a second, Cora looked inclined to ask something else, a flicker of emotion passing over her face. She switched gears though and crossed her arms with a slight head-tilt. She wanted an answer.

Joe answered with a shrug, not really sure if she was okay or not. Which was a lie, she was not okay.

Derek's gaze went from Joe to Cora, remaining soft. "Go back to sleep. You're still healing."

What had Cora said? It'd been at least six years since she last saw Derek? Hell of a reunion though. Joe wondered if he saw how alike they were and if he noticed the slight change in Cora's posture. If he noticed her knee-jerk reaction to challenge his order just because it came from him.

Instead of going back inside to whatever sleeping arrangements was upstairs, Cora nodded at Joe.

"Te ves súper jodida," she said, which loosely translated that Joe looked like shit. Her accent was heavy and it almost sounded like she was singing at times. "¿Cuándo fue la última vez que dormiste?" When was the last time you slept?

Rolling her eyes — it was always the same question — Joe tried to count back to when she woke up, but was distracted by the sight of Scott obviously spelling the words under his breath. He wasn't the only one.

"Okay, uh, can we switch back to a lingua franca here?" Stiles asked, looking between Joe and Cora in confusion. "Some of us are only passing Spanish thanks to señor Google Translato."

"Traductor. And Spanish is a lingua franca," Cora said icily, not looking impressed. "Idiot."

Stiles took half a second to recover. "Oh, you are definitely Derek's sister."

She definitely was, Joe thought and peered behind Cora to see if Boyd had woken up as well. If he had, he wasn't visible to her at least. And she hated the sense of relief she felt at that.

"Are you guys done yelling?" Cora asked in English now, giving the loft a standard Hale-glare. Joe also hated noticing Peter's suspicious eyes watching both her and Cora in turn. "What are you yelling about, anyway?"

"Uh, well, Joe apparently hasn't been touring the Californian crime labs and ignoring us all summer like we thought, she apparently has an evil twin answering her phone, her professor is also apparently evil and," Stiles pulled in a breath, "animals are going crazy all over town and the Alphas are killing virgins."

For a second, Cora just watched Stiles in case he was going to add something else. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would the Alphas kill virgins?"

"Because it's a part of some ancient evil werewolf-ritual? Because they are evil?" Stiles suggested and scanned his crowd to see how his pitch landed. With a raised eyebrow, Peter gently shook his head and Stiles deflated. "Okay, but someone evil is killing virgins!" With newfound hope, he turned to Joe. "Could your professor be killing virgins?"

"Why are you asking me? I don't know shit about current events. I don't even know what date it is-"

"August eighteenth," Scott said quickly, obviously trying to help.

"Holy shit." It was hard to breathe all of a sudden. Hearing it like that made it more real somehow. Three whole months gone, robbed from her life. A lump lodged in her throat as she looked at Scott. "Oh my God, I missed your birthday."

"No, no, no! You didn't!" He held his hands out, trying to diffuse immediately. "You gave me this jacket and you sent me a happy birthday-text," he winced, "but I guess that wasn't you and it was Mom who gave me Uncle Rob's jacket, but she said it was from you and-"

"Scott." It was Derek who stopped him, probably picking up on Joe's elevated heartbeat, and he ran a hand over his face. Doing what he could to remain in control, even though Joe noticed the tension in his neck. Sucks being the Alpha sometimes. He addressed Cora with strained patience: "We're done yelling. Go back to bed."

"You okay?" Joe couldn't help but ask Cora again, even though she felt like a fraud for doing so. The name Erica Erica Erica Erica went on repeat inside her skull. Cora wouldn't ask, but Cora also knew what the Alphas had planned. Knew what had happened.

With a sigh, Cora got up and went back into the darkness of the second-level. "Alive." She called over her shoulder: "Tu cabello se ve bien."

"Gracia'," Joe replied and sighed as she watched Scott try to work this one out.

"Something about hair?" he asked slowly. "She likes...your hair? Oh, oh, okay!" His face cleared and he gestured at Joe. "Your hair looks great!" For some reason, he turned to Stiles and Stiles also started with frantic nodding, eager to agree.

"Yeah, awesome," Stiles said and gave her two thumbs up. "Suits you! A lot."

Only able to stare, she was torn between how much she had missed them and how stupid they sometimes were. They were not getting it and how could she blame them? What capacity did they have to fully understand where she had been? How could she even begin to explain?

Luckily Derek came to her rescue.

"Okay, everyone out," Derek said, reaching the end of his patience. "Now. You guys need to go home. Isaac, you're upstairs. You," he turned to Peter with thinly veiled distaste, "I don't care, just get lost." Before she could go too far, Derek grabbed her wrist gently. "Not you. You stay."

Unlike Joe, Scott and Stiles hadn't moved.

"Okay, but, uh, what do we do about..." Stiles shook his cell-phone.

"Nothing," Joe said and shrugged at his confused face. "If Walker's still at Berkeley, I don't want to give her a heads up. Let me handle it."

"Can we at least come up with a safe-word that we use in case one of us is kidnapped? Like, something we can ask, that only we know, to make sure it's not just some doppelganger impersonating us." Stiles must have realized something was off as he asked: "What?"

"That's not what safe-word means," Peter supplied helpfully as he got up from the couch. "You mean a code-word. How about... Alpha," he looked at Derek, "Beta," now at Isaac, "Omega." His gaze lingered on Scott, still with a half-smirk on his face.

"Fine," Derek said, his voice clipped. "Now get out. All of you."

Even though Scott seemed reluctant to leave, or reluctant to leave her there, Joe managed to convince him it was okay. They hugged, this time he was squeezing her harder than comfortably and she told him they'd talk tomorrow. Maybe things made more sense then, at least she hoped so. Half of her wanted to leave with Scott — she was not looking forward to the inevitable conversation with Derek.

The second everyone was out of sight, Isaac scrambling up the stairs, Derek put both hands on the table and leaned over it with a heavy sigh. Exhausted. It had probably been a long couple of days for him.

"I have to get back to Jimmy," Joe said carefully, numb and tired herself. The loft felt empty with just the two of them there, even if she knew there were three werewolves just up the stairs. Without looking up, Derek just nodded and she sighed. "You okay, Derek?"

To her surprise, he let out a sharp snort and now he did look up, eyes heavy and dark. "Don't, Joe, don't ask me that. You don't get to ask me that."

"Uh, I kind of have to ask. Don't have your nose, remember?" She shrugged to disarm; aiming for casual, feeling stupid. "So, are you okay or not?"

With a harsh shove, Derek was off the table, moving towards the window with his arms folded tightly across his chest. As usual, he was in one of those dark henley shirts that stretched over his shoulders, displaying how tense they were. He had gained muscle, she determined, not having the capacity to appreciate his physique at the moment.

If she hadn't known him, she would have confused this symbolic gesture of turning his back to her with anger. It wasn't, at least not directed at her. This was the hospital, after she was shot, all over again; when he was so wrung up in self-loathing that he could not even look at her. She hated it.

"Derek, look, I know this probably came as a surprise-"

"Do you hear yourself?" he snapped over his shoulder. "Joe, you don't get to worry about me right now."

But you're the one hurting right now.

The raised volume of his voice had them both glancing up the stairs — let sleeping werewolves lie. It seemed he agreed with her unspoken words, as he tilted his head to indicate she should follow him inside his bedroom. It looked different somehow — she hadn't noticed it this morning and wow, was it really just this morning she woke up here? — and she narrowed her eyes at the walls no longer covered in bare bricks.

"Did you soundproof this place?" she asked as he closed the door.

He had at least spent more time in here recently and she could feel his scent saturating the space. It made her linger over by the window as he went to sit on the bed.

"Don't change the subject," he ordered and she raised her eyebrows at the command. Again, the sensation of not knowing whose anger she felt — if it was him, her, or both of them. Inhaling deeply, Derek leaned forwards on his knees while she remained standing with her back against the wall. "Why didn't you tell me right away?"

"I didn't understand what was going on right away," Joe admitted with a breathless laugh. "Your pain last night... it knocked me out. I was still pretty out of it when I woke up. Then I thought you were being your super pragmatic self and I didn't realize you guys had no idea where I'd been until I talked to Aunt Mel." She tried to ignore the way her stomach melted at the sight of those bright green eyes she had missed so much. "Then I just didn't know how to... you know. It could probably have been done a little smoother, so I'm sorry."

His eyes slid closed and he whispered: "Please don't be sorry."

The second apology died on her lips.

Derek sat back, pushing himself up from his knees, straining to take a deep breath. Like a drowning man, head barely above the water. "You don't get to do this, Joe."

"Do what?" She could feel her own pulse quicken.

"You don't get to brush this off and pretend nothing happened."

"I'm not-"

"You just did, out there." He nodded towards the door. "Or tried to at least."

Her mouth shut on its own.

"And you did it after the first time with Kate and you tried to do it the second time. I didn't see it then, but I do now." His nostrils flared like he was not sure if he wanted to smile or snarl. "So, no, you don't get to ask if I'm okay or act like things are back to normal. We both know they're not."

Mostly because his words hit a nerve, Joe hugged herself and rocked against the wall a bit, not sure what to say. "Anything else I'm not allowed to?"

"Deflect," he answered without hesitation.

Jimmy had been right, Joe mused, looking down at her feet. She should have waited a day before doing this. With a sigh, she said: "I'm stronger than I look." Literally. "I'm fine."

His eyes roamed her face, darting around, looking for clues. "You're running on adrenaline now. You know that, right? That's why it worked the first time because with the kanima you just kept surfing that same wave. The second time, when things quieted down, you crashed." She squirmed at his words, especially the flat tone contrasting his soft eyes. "Jimmy was right, I didn't want to see it and if I had, I wouldn't have let you leave in the first place."

There were a lot of things Jimmy had been right about and Joe tried to suppress those memories. Also tried to suppress the irritation of Derek letting her do anything.

"Scott and Stiles don't get it, at least not yet. They're just kids. Scott's not good enough at using his senses yet, but maybe he'll catch the same thing that I do eventually."

"Catch what?" she asked with narrowed eyes.

His face softened, eyes flickering to the side. "You know that what you've been through don't just get washed off in the shower. Change of scenery helps, at least for a while, but it'll catch up to you in the end."

He had no idea what she'd been through, she thought, but crushed the instant biting reply she wanted to lash out. Derek was talking from experience. There was probably a reason he and his sister had moved cross-country after the fire. And just like the Alpha pack, the aftermath of the fire eventually caught up with both him and Laura.

So much guilt already, she could see it all over him. So how was she going to tell him everything that had happened? Pile on that guilt when he was already shouldering so much?

"Derek, I'm-" Hard to talk, hard to think. "Twenty-four hours ago I didn't even know what country I was in. I don't have the words to-" She broke off again. "I'm still processing, okay, I don't know how I feel about everything, I-"

"Want me to tell you?" he asked, brows pulled together in an otherwise neutral expression. "How you're feeling?" Without waiting for an answer, he kept going: "You're pissed off. I wouldn't even call it anger, it's more like fury. Rage. And you're hurt. Cutting so deep I don't get how you're still standing."

Her chest heaved as he talked as if her body finally allowed herself to feel all of the things he mentioned.

"And you have every right to be. I wish I could take that pain from you, but I can't."

His 'permission' somehow made things worse. He hadn't taken any of her pain for a while now.

"Where did you think I was?" The words came too harsh again, but she couldn't help it. A tightness in her chest she had not paid attention to made it hard to breathe again. Especially when Derek averted his gaze, focusing on his own hands. Her lip curled. "Alex? You thought I-" She bit it off with a hard laugh. "Really? Why?"

"Three weeks after you left Beacon Hills," Derek said in the same flat voice as if he was reciting the weather forecast, "you — or whoever is pretending to be you — told Melissa your assignment got extended to include all of California. You'd be gone three more weeks." He was not looking at her. "Three more weeks passed and you called Melissa again, saying you would spend the rest of the summer in San Diego on a project. You responded to their texts and the occasional phone-call, but usually with the excuse of being busy."

Fighting for every breath now, Joe blinked away the angry tears in her eyes. Derek wasn't done yet and he continued like he just wanted to get it over with.

"Melissa worried, so she called your professor, Scott even went to see her, but she said everything was fine. They chalked it up to you needing some space. Jimmy's phone was disconnected, Kelly didn't want to talk to me and San Diego is just two hours away from LA. So yes, I reached that conclusion."

"But," Joe shook her head, now wondering if Kelly was in on it too, "you heard that wasn't me back there? Right? So why didn't you hear it before?"

A long silence followed before Derek sighed. "I thought you blocked my number."

It didn't mean he hadn't tried calling her, it meant he had not been able to reach her — the fake her, anyway. Joe did not bother asking why he hadn't called Alex if he thought she was there. There was something called dignity after all and Derek had his pride to maintain.

That wasn't the worst part. The worst part was still: "You thought I just left? Just like that?"

"To be honest," his voice was low and he looked at his hands again; his claws were out as he studied them slowly, "I kind of hoped you had."

It felt like a punch to her stomach and Joe slid down against the wall without thinking. Pulling her knees up to her, curling in like a ball, wanting to disappear. Every bad thought, every worst fear she had had the last months flooded in and she was too numb to even cry properly.

"Because if you had," Derek continued, "you'd be safe. Away from all of this, away from Beacon Hills, far away from me."

He wanted her gone. Everything they had told her was true. As long as she was human, she was a problem. A liability. Not equals by a long shot, always the weakest link. A scream tore at her lungs again, wanting to emerge, but she bit it down. Hands shaking, she flexed them, almost imagining claws like his. Three months and he had wanted her gone the whole time.

"And you were angry with me," Joe continued for him. Just like Aunt Mel had been — Stiles, Scott, everyone. She closed her eyes as Derek nodded.

"Yes." At least he was being honest. "I was."

It was like she was drowning. Lungs filling with the harsh scream that had been in her throat since waking up. Three months in pain and he had been angry with her the whole time. Not looking for her, not missing her, not-

"Did they hurt you?"

She barely heard him over her roaring pulse, but she shook her head in reply. "Do I look hurt?"

"You heal," he pointed out and she swallowed. He had no idea. A few seconds passed before Derek began slowly: "Did they..." His words trailed off like it was too painful to ask. "They didn't-"

"Bite me?" she guessed and snorted when Derek nodded carefully. "Do I smell like a wolf?"

"No."

As he still sounded somewhat doubtful, she rolled her eyes. "No one bit me."

A flicker of relief over his face, although short-lived. "If you haven't been taking the pills, why haven't I felt anything from you?"

"The moonstone," she replied in a flat voice, staring at her slightly trembling hands. "It scatters the moonlight and, you know, the mate-bond is a part of that somehow."

That was what they told her at least, the first time they broke her arm. The werewolf mate-equivalent of 'Scream all you want, no one will hear you.'

"So they did hurt you?"

"I healed."

Over and over and over again, until she would prefer to die. And how was she going to tell him that? How was she supposed to tell him everything? It would break them, like almost every bone in her body had been broken. How could she tell him that?

Because now that she managed to look up, she could see the whites of his eyes turned red — a human red, not Alpha red — and a single tear threatening to escape. And she saw the despair in his eyes as well. The self-loathing, the guilt, the rage — every bad emotion she wanted him to feel and at the same time, wished he wouldn't. She hated this. Hated these instincts that she even now had to fight to not comfort him. Because she was not sure if he hadn't known or if he hadn't wanted to know.

"I healed," she repeated, a whisper, fire dwindling down to this immense disappointment, making her hollow inside. All this time. All this time and he hadn't even noticed she was gone and he was right, she was angry. Inhaling, taking in his scent, trying to make sense of the confusing emotions, she said: "This wasn't your fault, Derek."

His jaw flexed as if he couldn't talk. As if he was the one with a large lump in his throat now, resisting every attempt of speaking. Already blaming himself, she realized, already taking full responsibility and she hated it. She hated him looking like that. Hated him for making her feel this way. Both ways.

Eventually, he said: "You weren't in the vault last night." He sounded apologetic.

"No, they separated us sometimes." And their plans had never been for Joe to get mauled by the Betas. Her voice sounded dead as she continued: "And at that point, it had been so long I didn't think I needed to let you know I was in trouble." She was so, so tired. "We should work out a system — morse-code or something. Or by this rate, if you don't hear from me in a few days, just assume I've been kidnapped again."

The anger in her voice contradicted the half-assed attempt at humor.

"How long were you away from the bank?" Slow pace, choosing his words carefully. "Do you know that Erica is," a shaky inhale, "dead?" He must have mistaken her panicked expression for confusion, which she did feel as well because how did he know? Luckily, he explained, even if it made less sense: "Isaac saw her or," a rawness to his voice as he corrected himself, "or her body when he was in there."

Joe just tried to breathe. "No," she choked out. "No, I didn't know."

She hated this. Hated it hated it hated it. What was real and what was not? How could Isaac have seen Erica at the bank before the full moon? And how was she going to tell Derek what actually had happened with Erica? Now she was doubting what actually had happened with Erica.

"Did you find her?" she asked, but Derek shook his head.

They sat like this for a while, neither speaking. Six feet apart at most and still so far away from each other that they had ever been. Her eyes dry, no more tears left, she looked up at him. He was still leaning forwards on his knees, studying the claws on his hand, mouth locked in a thin line.

"Derek, I'm sorry, I'm just..." She hated her voice. Hated how pathetic she sounded. Weak. Needy. She wished she could give him whatever reassurance he needed, but she did not have it in her. "Just really tired."

He nodded. "I can take the couch."

"I can't stay."

With another solemn nod, he sighed. "Jimmy."

"They took him because of me," she tried to explain, lips twisting at the effort. "And if Peter hadn't found him today, he-" Joe shook her head, unable to speak the words. She would have killed him. "I'm sorry, I can't."

The claws retracted into Derek's hand as he finally, finally looked at her. "Joe..." Shaking his head, he tried again. "I didn't... I didn't know." He looked sick, both of himself and of the world, and he leaned forwards with his head between his arms.

She hated this. Hated hated hated.

Slowly, Joe got up, standing on shaky legs. She had made up her mind and she stepped between his knees where he still sat on the edge of the bed. Her arms reached to his neck, to hold him, but he stopped her. Grabbed both her wrists and held her at bay.

"Don't," he said so softly she thought she could die.

It cut like a knife into her heart and if he couldn't feel that, he couldn't feel any of her pain. No matter the balance. Pay attention. He blamed himself. Fighting to find her voice, to not be selfish, to find a function, she said: "Unless you really mean that, let go of me."

Let me help you.

His fingers tightened around her wrists, hesitant. He let go.

Instincts. Joe put her arms around his neck, pulling his face into her body, feeling the tears — his tears — seep through her t-shirt. If they're hurt, they sought each other. Still hated this. Hated him. Hated herself. Hated.

His arms came around her waist and pulled her closer. With the tall bed and his height, she could lean her face into his hair even while he sat down. His scent filled her mind. She hated it.

Who are you trying to fool, Delgado?

They stayed like that, not sure who comforted who.

My companions here tell me you are human...

The apartment bathed in complete darkness as Joe locked herself in. No computers running, no lights on, no Jimmy in the living room. After awkwardly disentangling from each other, Derek had offered to drive her back. It was an offer she could not refuse, literally, as she feared the alternative would have been him carrying her back to the laundromat. If it hadn't been for his half-healed Betas in the loft, she wondered if he would have left her side at all.

Yes, a traitorous voice in her mind answered, he would have. Because he could barely look at her. Because looking at her made it real. She was an embodiment of his guilt. He thought he had failed her, when in truth it was the other way around.

Not bothering with any lights, Joe trudged inside. No point in raising her voice, she just needed the confirmation and she said: "Jimmy?"

"Sleeping," Jimmy answered from his bedroom where the door stood cracked open. His voice sounded muffled as if half his face was down on a pillow.

She nodded to herself. Her racing pulse quieted down. Safe. They were safe.

For now.

For the first time since she ran through the Preserve, driven by pure instincts to Derek's loft, she was alone. After kicking off her shoes, she slumped down in one of the armchairs, staring at the map. She waited for tears, but they never came, even as her eyes burned. Numb. Drained. Empty.

This was not how she had pictured it would be like coming back to Beacon Hills. Not that she technically left. 'Do you want to cry?' Jimmy had asked. Yes and no. Joe wanted to scream.

By old habit, her gaze flickered down to her own hands. There had been some sleep the last day, but probably not enough. She was not a good judge though, of her own mental state. Needed one of the others for that. Erica had been particularly adept.

Had been.

There was that scream again, pushing itself up from her lungs, begging to be released. What was the point? Would not solve anything. No purpose, no function. Maybe it was just as well Derek couldn't look at her.

She had no idea how long she sat there, in the dark, staring at the wall. No idea what time it was either. It was not like she had worried much about the hour of the day the last three months. Dark outside, probably late.

No sleep forthcoming to claim her. Nothing unusual about that either. Jimmy had tried teaching her meditation — not a great success. Cora had different methods, knowing that their kind liked physical contact, and she would cling onto Joe's back in the vault as they tried to sleep. That sometimes worked. Eventually, Erica adopted that same technique.

Erica.

Cora knew what happened. Joe could see it on her face earlier. She knew and precisely because she knew, she hadn't asked. Pragmatic just like her brother. And Boyd would know too and he already disliked her and he would tell Derek and-

If it hadn't been for Scott, she would have run away now. Just stuffed Jimmy in a car and left. Let the phone imposter keep doing her job; handle the angry calls and disappointed texts. Let Derek live with the knowledge she was safe — far away from him. What a joke.

Running real low on sleep, she thought. She had a tendency to get mean.

Every time she tried to close her eyes, she only saw Erica's eyes instead. That exact moment they dimmed from a glowing golden to a human hazel. That exact moment they both knew what happened. That exact moment Jimmy came barging through the tree-lines, attacking Joe to get her away from Erica.

Too late. He'd gotten there too late.

How was she ever going to sleep with that memory printed on the inside of her brain?

The buzzer for the building's front door went off and Joe was up from the chair the same second. Even if she sat there in this half-sleeping fugue state, several months in survivor's mode had honed her reflexes.

Hands clenching into fists, heart hammering in her ears, she stalked over to the windows, but saw nothing. Next she checked the peephole in the apartment door — still nothing.

The buzzer rang again.

As long as she didn't open the door, they were safe. Holding her breath, not knowing what to expect, Joe pushed in the speak-button on the panel: "Hello?"

"J-Joe?"

The flor seemed to roll in waves under Joe's feet as she backed away from the door. That voice. Impossible. Breathing hard, Joe looked at her hands. Trembling, but not shaking. Was this a hallucination? What was real and what wasn't?

"Joe? Please-" Erica said again, apparently never releasing the button — or not existing at all. "Help me."

Losing it. She was losing it. Joe backed away from the door, covering her mouth with her hands. Derek was right. The second the adrenaline faded, she crashed. This again. She had been so careful the last few years and now-

"What the hell are you just standing there for?!"

Jimmy, with eyes still glowing and only wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, tore out of his bedroom. He went straight for the door, unlocking faster than humanly possible.

Numb. She felt numb. "You heard her?"

"Yes, I fucking heard her, Delgado! Now move!"

Halfway down the stairs, body moving on autopilot after Jimmy, it occurred to her it could be a trap. At the sight of the slumped form with a familiar mop of dirty blonde hair outside the front doors, she forgot about everything else.

Erica. Joe thought her heart would stop at the thought alone.

Jimmy forced the front doors open and Joe threw herself down next to Erica, fingers already coming up to her neck, feeling for a pulse.

Weak, but present. Eyes closed, head hanging onto her chest. Both hands covering a large hole in her stomach, blood still coming through her fingers.

Breathing. Alive.

.

I don't think I'm physically capable of writing anything else than cliffhangers. Sorry!
If it seems like there's contradicting information in this story right now, know that it's on purpose. The last scene with Joe should be a clue regarding that.

Shoutout and thank you to Lunaflores10 and TenebrisSagittarius for help with the Spanish and mercury30 for Stiles' "Google Translate"-joke :)

Champagne-Guest, you are forgiven any misspellings because that inauguration deserved excessive amounts of champagne. JoyDG, aaah, your baby gets active when you read this? That is adorable and probably the best thing I've heard all week ^^

As always, thank you guys for your feedback and reviews! Thank you for reading too - please let me know what you think of this chapter :)