Warning: This is a rough one

Chapter 64: The Liar III

Then it seems some of our work has already been done for us.

Not surprisingly, Joe fell asleep in the car on their way to Berkeley. Antsy to get this over with, to get some answers — and her phone back — she suppressed all the emotions about the familiar college grounds and put her hood up to avoid getting recognized. A new semester had just started, evident by all the confused freshmen running around trying to locate their classrooms or lecture halls.

Jimmy kept close to her heel, as much as she hated that expression. Where's your little pet? She appreciated his company though, his protection. Even if she was stronger than she looked, Jimmy was on a whole other level in terms of strength. And ferocity, she thought with a shudder, getting a brief flashback consisting of blood and body parts.

"I really hated this place," he said conversationally, no trace of the monster he could become, as they dodged students on their way to the sociology-building. Nothing bitter in his voice, not anymore. He'd given up a lot to become what he was today, she supposed he couldn't afford bitterness. "Can we stop by Professor Kane as well? I'd like a few words with her."

"Depends, we might need to make a hasty getaway," Joe muttered and waited by the doorway to the offices; she didn't have her card anymore. As someone exited, she and Jimmy slipped inside before the doors closed. Professor Kane had been bugging her as well. She must have noticed Joe's absence, at least in terms of the workload that shifted over to her when she lost Joe as a TA. By this rate, Joe almost suspected she was on some kind of Truman-show with everyone working against her. "Come on, here."

Jimmy took up position next to the door to Walker's office, listening. "She's there, but..."

"But?"

He shook his head, brows slightly furrowed. "Something's off about her scent."

"Everybody's smelling weird today," Joe mumbled and decided she didn't care. "Wait here."

Instead of knocking, Joe went straight through. The door had been locked. Keywords: had been. It opened with a metallic crunch when she forced the handle down.

Professor Walker had already straightened up at her desk when Joe pushed herself in and closed the door behind her with a loud bang.

A false attempt at a calm greeting. "Miss Delgado, if you'd let me-"

"Don't you dare 'Miss Delgado' me, bitch!" Joe placed herself in front of the door, covering the only exit, and stared down her former professor, who looked every bit as polished as she remembered. "You got exactly thirty seconds to come clean before I crush your-"

"I didn't have a choice!" Walker said quickly and pushed herself into the bookshelf behind her desk, tripping over her kitten heel.

"Are you serious? That's the excuse you're going with?" Joe spat, fingers flexing and scratching the air. She had wanted resistance. Wanted a fight. "What - the - hell? Why? Why would you set me up? Cover for them? Tell everyone I was wandering around SoCal, going to the beach, and having a good time? How did you even do that?"

"The recording."

"Are you serious?!"

"I got twenty minutes of your talking on tape. At first, I just used the recording, but when your aunt grew suspicious," she explained at rapid speed, "I knew it didn't cut it and I hired a voice actress to answer your phone with a given script depending on who called. I did this for you, Josefina!"

"Bullshit!" Joe spat, head reeling, and breath strained. Nothing made sense. What was real and what wasn't? "Did you know where I was? Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"If you would just listen to me, I can explain!" Walker swallowed and kept as much distance between her and Joe as possible. Voice came fast and breathless. "It was to protect your family and friends. If they went looking for you, or worse, if they found you — you know as well as me what would have happened."

"I know," Joe growled, "but the question is how do you? What do they have on you?"

Walker, visibly shaking, pushed her immaculate bob behind her ears. "I know what they are and what they are capable of. Better than most, probably. They don't tend to leave survivors." She stared at Joe, straight in the eyes. "If you would let me explain-"

"Explain that you knew who had me and still covered for them?" Joe's voice broke, her hand shook. "How could you do that?"

"I did not cover for them. It was Marin's idea, I'm not even sure if Deucalion knew about it." Walker's nostrils flared as she bit back tears. "The alternative would have been worse, believe me. They are ruthless. I am sorry, Josefina!"

Memories flashed at her words. Of broken bones, of whispered orders, of a voice telling her again and again how weak she was, how fragile, how human. How much she would hurt Derek if she didn't get it under control — she had to control it. Ruthless did not even begin to cover it.

Walker tried to take another step back when Joe looked up.

"Three months!" Joe snarled and came towards the desk, the only thing separating her from Walker, who looked to be trembling. "One month I can't even remember." Her hand clawed the air around her neck, trying to visualize. "Because of you."

"I covered for you," Walker insisted. "With your family, with your friends, with the college. What would have happened if your father tried to find you? Tried to fight them?"

The words cut shards into Joe's soul. She knew what would have happened — they would have ripped him to shreds.

"I even made sure you still got your paycheck deposited because I knew you'd come back. They would have killed me or Bridget without hesitation, but I knew they wouldn't kill you. You have to believe me, I am sorry, but it was for the best."

"Not good enough. Do you have any idea what they made me do?"

Joe slammed her palms on the desk, ready to spring forwards. Before she got that far, Walker's eyes flashed into a bright yellow and her teeth lengthened as she snarled. Fangs. Joe stopped and stared.

"Omega," Joe whispered, as Walker tried to simultaneously push herself into the bookshelf and stare Joe down. A false attempt of bravado and Joe could feel her anger rise inside of her. "You really think-"

Voice broke off.

Pain slammed into her chin like a sharp uppercut and Joe grunted. Derek. His pain. Damn it! Joe tried to focus, to push it back to him, but that pain was nothing compared to what came next.

"AAARH!"

Joe practically roared as a ragged burn went straight through her chest. Her hands came up, seeking a wound that wouldn't be there. Eyes rolled back in her head, she barely caught Walker's panicked yelling and Jimmy storming inside.

Couldn't breathe. Couldn't talk. Couldn't think. Felt like something shot through her, impaling her, but not a gunshot, not through and through — whatever it was, it stayed there.

"Keep her quiet!" Walker's panicked cry, but Jimmy met it with a harsh snarl.

Hands on Joe's body, lifting her to the desk, as she writhed and cried, clawing at her chest, wanting to get it out, get it out! It ground against her insides, twisting, being held in place. Balanced, pain divided equally between her and Derek, and Joe ground her teeth together so she could hear the creaking in her own brain.

"Killing - him," she choked out at Jimmy. Hand clutched at him, digging her dull fingernails into his arm. "Derek-"

"It's the mate-bond," Walker said from somewhere above her. She sounded stressed. "Wait here, I'll get Bridget."

"Derek," Joe croaked again. The thing in her chest never left, stayed there. Not healing. Not healing and he was dying. It blinded all her senses. Jimmy had to go. Had to help Derek. "Dying."

"Too far away," Jimmy grunted, probably at Joe's hand around his arm in a vicelike grip. "No time. Can you push it-"

Tears and sweat poured down her cheeks. "It'll kill him." Eyes wide open, she tried to scream when the non-existent thing twisted, dragging across her organs and nerve endings. Everything white and hot with infuriating agony.

"Josefina! Oh no, no, no, this is not good." Professor Kane's face appeared above Joe, pale and drawn. She pulled her sleeves up. "All right, I will try to dampen the bond."

"No!" Joe roared in Kane's face, wishing she had fangs to bite the woman's face off. "No, he'll die!"

It was the only reason he still lived because she took part of his pain. Too little. She had to take more.

It took effort just closing her eyes; focus, purpose, function.

Jimmy sounded resigned, recognizing her motions. "Are you sure about this?"

"If she screams again, campus police will come in here!" Walker hissed, mostly at Kane.

Jimmy responded by grabbing something from the desk and shoving it into Joe's mouth — a leatherbound journal.

Panting around the book, Joe bit down, steeling herself. It was already too much and she had to take more. Breaths came in short gasps. Come on. Come on! Focus, Sefina!

"Mrrrrrh!" The book muffled most of her roar and she arched off the desk. Tipping the scales to her side, shifting the balance, straining to take as much pain from Derek as possible. Her hands slammed into the tabletop, squeezing into the wood, wanting to break something else like she was breaking now. Control, she was still in control. "Mrrh!"

"Careful!" Walker insisted. "Too much and you'll be the one dying!"

"Nnnnh!" Joe cried, sobbed, and hiccuped; saliva running from her open mouth around the book. Teeth dug into the soft leather and she felt it bend in her mouth. Hated this, hated this! How much longer could she do this? Five seconds? A minute? Hands on her shoulder, holding her down, keeping her grounded — Jimmy. She pulled harder on the connection to Derek, taking more of Derek's pain. No sight now, eyes rolled back in her head.

She coughed, feeling the metallic taste of blood in her mouth.

"She's choking!" Kane barked and Joe felt the book tear out of her mouth. Suddenly on her side, it felt like a wet snake made its way up her throat, and a large gush of blood spewed over Walker's desk. Kane sounded despaired: "Oh, Josefina, are you absolutely insane?"

Jimmy sounded faint, probably at the smell of blood: "What happened?"

"She took more than his pain, she took on some of his damned injuries!"

Hard to even hear them. Joe buckled, coughed up more blood, dribbling it out so she wouldn't choke on it. The taste made her gag more, the pain still penetrating her core. It built and built, ramped up to searing, blinding, paralyzing agony, and then with a harsh cry, the instrument left Joe's chest. It pulled out, leaving a gushing wound — now also inside of her.

Too much, she'd taken too much, and Joe toppled over the side of the desk.

When she came to her senses again, the agony had faded into a dull throb. The reason for that, she realized, was because Walker had her hands on Joe's exposed neck. Siphoning already siphoned pain. What goes around, comes around.

At least Derek was still alive, she could still feel his pain as well.

Her former professor's face was pinched in a tight frown, concentrating hard apparently, where she knelt on the carpeted floor next to Joe.

"Was I," Joe groaned and sat up a bit, swatting Walker's hands off her, "the only one who didn't know about werewolves before?"

"Everyone knew about werewolves, but no one believed they were real," Jimmy commented drily from where he leaned against the wall. He gave Professor Kane, who stood biting at her fingernails by the door, a wolfish grin as a glow shone through his sunglasses. "Someone convinced them it was all in their heads."

Professor Kane did not look impressed. "I can assure you that the majority of public lynchings of werewolves in modern history have been falsely accused men and women, just like the witches. Mass-hysteria kills people, not supernaturals."

"I suppose you might have personal experience with that?"

"Do I know you from somewhere, boy?"

Ignoring the bickering, Joe found herself transfixed by a thin chain hanging out of Walker's white dress shirt from where she knelt next to Joe. Without thinking, Joe reached over to pull on it and a simple gold ring emerged. Simple, but familiar.

"Oh my God, you're the wife," Joe croaked out, staring at Professor Bridget Kane in all her loafer-wearing glory. The ring on Kane's finger matched the one around Walker's neck. Joe's gaze flickered between the two professors where neither looked ready to deny it and she let go of the ring. "Man, my gaydar is off."

Professor Kane hesitated, before saying: "We prefer to keep a low profile on campus. There are very few who know. Josefina, I'm sorry this-"

"I really don't give a shit. I want my phone back," Joe interrupted, seeing as Jimmy looked close to attacking, probably feeding off the excess adrenaline. Legs shook, but she managed to get up, clutching onto the desk.

Walker rose too — she had a large tear in her pantyhose. "I don't have your phone."

"Bullshit."

"I don't," Walker insisted and slumped down in her office chair, removing her crooked glasses. "The girl, Marin, the pack's emissary. She has it." A pretty light-skinned black woman with her coffee, smiling warmly at Joe. "I only redirected your phone calls. I swear that is the truth."

Marin, the one with the wolfsbane and mistletoe. Joe had never seen her again after the diner. So she had been the one answering the texts?

"It was her idea to keep the truth hidden for as long as possible. Something about keeping your father and cousin out of it. The Alphas threatened me into making your abduction possible, but the rest? A favor I owed Marin from years back." Professor Walker gave Kane a thin smile. "She saved our lives."

Joe coughed again, a sensation of sandpaper in her chest. She had thought Derek was the problem, not Scott or her dad. "Fine. Whatever. Where can I find her?"

The two college professors looked at each other in obvious disagreement. Kane spoke first. "Sarah, we can't."

Walker put her glasses back on. "Why not? My debts are paid and you're no bigger 'fan' of them than I am."

"There is such a thing as professionalism."

"Really, Bridget, we are still at the 'us versus them'-mindset?" Something soft in Walker's face, but Joe wrote it off as fatigue after siphoning Joe's pain. "You feel you owe the Emissary more loyalty than Miss Delgado here? Your prized student? Your mentee of several years?"

The mentee in question rubbed her chest, feeling the internal healing taking place, and she glared at both of the professors, one of whom was apparently a werewolf. That must have been the weird thing Jimmy detected in her scent if she had tried to mask it or something.

Professor Kane's bangles rattled as she tore off her glasses to polish them on her long-sleeved dress. Looking at Joe, she sighed. "I understand with your position you can't stay out of this, but I sincerely wish you could. This was never my intention when I gave you that paper to write, but the universe has its ways I suppose." As Joe just glared, Kane nodded in silent defeat. "The Emissary works at the high school in Beacon Hills. You can find her there. But be careful, I beg you."

"The Alpha pack's emissary works at Beacon Hills High? Are you serious?"

And Derek had checked up on a teacher earlier today. Odd coincidences. Not.

"A little late to ask me to be careful by the way," Joe added, not able to look at Kane. The betrayal stung, although by now she should be used to it. Instead, she addressed Walker. "You say you know them better than most? Then tell me what he wants, tell me how to beat them."

A haunted look passed over her face. "If I knew that, do you think I would have spent the last seven years hiding as an Omega?"

"Sarah..." Kane said softly, but Walker shook her head.

Joe stared at Sarah Walker — did not need werewolf-senses to pick up on the fear. Seven years. "You were in one of the packs."

"I was." Walker drew in a deep breath. "I got out before Deucalion arrived with his pitch. Before my friends and family were torn apart in a quest for power. That is what he wants. Power. If you recall the three base motives, Miss Delgado, you will remember that power as a motive is particularly fickle. Like sex or revenge, it is so deeply ingrained in our psyche that it needs no further explanation, even when it should. Some want power for protection, for wealth, for beliefs, or even as means to achieve the other two base motives."

Joe couldn't help but glance over at Jimmy who was watching Walker with the same abrupt focus.

"Deucalion wants power for power's sake." Walker fiddled with the chained ring still outside her shirt. "That is precisely why there is no stopping him. Even before he lost his sight, he was concerned with building strength. Then it became an obsession. Already an Alpha, he murdered his pack to absorb their powers. Not enough. He formed a new pack of Alphas and became their leader as well. Not enough. He will never stop, he will never be satisfied. The more you have, the more he wants."

Silence reigned in the small crowded office.

"Why haven't you run?" Joe asked, voice tight as she watched the two professors. "Why are you still here?"

"We are under better protection now," Professor Kane snapped before Walker could answer. "On the condition that we don't meddle." That was apparently all she would offer on the matter. "I am sorry, Josefina, for the pain we have caused, but we will no longer be a part of this. On either side."

For a while, Joe just stared at them. "Yeah, well, I don't have that luxury, do I?"

The goddamn moon saw to that. Joe gestured at Jimmy to get moving — they'd wasted too much time already; Derek was alive, but hurt. Her legs wobbled so much that Jimmy gave her his arm to lean on.

Professor Walker cleared her throat before they opened the door. "One more thing, Miss Delgado. Your paper has been accepted by the Criminal Justice and Behavior-journal. I took the liberty of performing the final revision myself. There is also a conference coming up later this October."

Was she serious? Joe glanced at both her and Kane; two proud, but rattled professors. She scoffed in response. "Knowing what you know, do you really think I'm gonna be alive in October?"

She did not bother waiting for an answer. It was probably negative.

Tell me, Josefina, what do you know about bonds?

It did not sit right with either of them to split up, but they had left Erica alone for too long. Jimmy went back to the apartment when they returned to Beacon Hills, while Joe could not stay away from Derek's loft. Instincts. Hurt? Find mate.

Besides, she could take care of herself.

An uncharacteristic rainstorm for this early in the fall had erupted while they drove from Berkeley and Joe sprinted from Jimmy's car to the tall apartment building. She didn't even know if Derek was there, but it was worth a shot.

Drenched just from the few seconds in the rain, she shivered a bit on her way up in the elevator. The sliding door stood open already, saving her from the alarm going off when she entered. Cora was by the couch, obviously attending to Derek as Joe could see his legs on the table.

Joe's eyes fell to a bloodied steel pipe laying discarded on the floor. Her hand came up to her chest, almost expecting to feel a hole there.

"¿Cómo está?" Joe asked, touching the still sore spot, thinking he might be unconscious. How is he?

Cora gave her a wary glance, a warning, and Joe nearly thought the attackers were still there. The warning was of a different sort however as Derek's legs went from the table to the floor.

"What," he got up gingerly from the couch, eyes livid, "the hell were you thinking?"

A large tear in his sweater, soaked with blood, still healing skin underneath. It had been bad. Not as bad as his eyes though, bright and angry, directed at Joe.

"Cora, get upstairs."

She did not move, obviously conflicted and Derek's eyes flashed red as he shouted again: "Get upstairs!"

Cora hesitated for a second, but fled up the spiral staircase, leaving Derek free to limp closer to Joe while clutching his chest.

"What happened?" Joe asked Derek, trailing Cora with her eyes until she was out of sight. She had looked paler than this morning, but not in as bad shape as Derek. "Are you okay?"

"Are you," he was so close his scent rolled off him, "out of your mind?" He seemed to restrain himself from strangling her. Nostrils flared. "You could have died!"

It took some convincing to make her own body stand its ground. "You were dying."

"Never," he snarled, getting up in her face, so close she could see every individual strand of his stubble, "try that again. Never!"

"Try what? Saving your life?"

"Do you even understand what you're doing?"

"No, I just happened to figure it out just as you needed it," she spat back, refusing to back down. This was her thanks? His anger, her anger, whoever's it was it only spurred her on. "Of course I know what I'm doing. I'm doing what you should have taught me to do, I don't know, six months ago?"

Judging by the flexing jaw, she struck a nerve. So he had known all along.

"You should have told me there was a way to control it," she continued and swallowed, angry at the memory of when she first found out. "That it was a power, not a weakness."

He was not denying anything, but his chest rose with the obvious exertion of staying what could at least pass for calm if you were blind, deaf, and stupid. "You trying to kill yourself is not a power. It's not control!"

Arms tight across her chest, she pretended not to hear him: "You didn't even tell me how it worked! Everything, literally everything I've had to find out from someone else. First I thought the pain was mirrored, not shared — Deaton was the one to tell me that. Then I thought the only way to dampen it was through mountain ash, but no, there's a way to control the difference and I had to learn it from the fucking Alphas?"

The words poured out, fueled by her anger that was again fueled by her fear of him nearly dying.

"You didn't even try to explain it! But you've known all along, haven't you? How it's supposed to work? Admit it!" Now she took a step towards him, getting up in his face. "The only times we've truly shared pain was when you didn't have a choice, when you were too far gone to hold it back, right? And you just let me think there was no choice, that I had to push half of my pain over to you all the time. That I was just a liability!"

"I'm a werewolf, Joe," he shouted so loud his breath fanned across her face, "I heal!"

"And I don't?!" she protested and curled her lip when he scoffed in response. "I just saved your life!"

"I never asked you to!"

Joe took a step back, momentarily speechless. "No, you're right, you never asked me to. You never asked for any of this, but neither did I!" Her breath came ragged, but she refused to cry. "What was I supposed to do? Let you die?"

He shrugged, mouth lifting in a grimace at the obvious strain. "Maybe."

"Oh fuck you, Derek," Joe spat and backed away from him, unable to take it. Unable to take his self-pity and loathing and the infuriating endless guilt. "You know I can't do that! My instincts are as strong as yours, okay? It goes both ways, asshole! Equals, remember? Or, you know, we would have been if you bothered to tell me anything!"

"I was trying to protect you!"

"Yeah, that worked out great!" she shouted back, fury just building and building inside of her. "Three months! Three months and you didn't even look for me! Three months where you were glad I was gone."

Derek gritted his teeth, almost baring them at her.

"Well, I'm sorry, Derek, that I'm back. That I'm making your life so damned complicated, I truly am, but I'm not sure what you want me to do about it." She bit her lip to keep from crying — she was done crying. "I don't blame you for what happened, but you knew what the Alpha pack wanted. You know what equals mean, what that makes me. Why didn't you tell me they might be coming for me?"

That made him take a step back, eyes shining in the dim light. "I didn't think they would." His jaw muscles worked, she could imagine him grinding his teeth together. "There was no reason they would! You're not a werewolf."

"So, what, that makes me worthless?" Her voice was thin. No answer and she felt her stomach churn. "Useless? Weak?"

Helpless, fragile, pathetic, blind, deaf, vulnerable — human?

The anger radiated off him — like he was seconds away from lengthening canines and red glowing eyes. "Do you think, even for a second, that I'd let you leave if I thought you were in danger?"

"You didn't let me leave either, Derek! I don't need and I've never needed your permission for anything." Voice shrill, her hands were out in the air now, gesturing wildly. "I'm not your Beta!"

"I know that!" His shout echoed in the loft.

"Do you? Do you really?" Joe could hear her old accent creeping in, accompanied by the hand movements. "You say that you do, you say that we're equals, but you don't act like it. Do you even hear yourself? 'You don't get to do this, Joe, I'm not lettin' you do that.'" She laughed, completely without humor as something clicked. "But that's it, isn't it? It's about control. It's always been about control with you. That's the real reason you wouldn't tell me stuff. That's the reason you didn't teach me how to shift the pain-bond. Because then I'd have a choice, right?"

"I didn't think you'd be able to-"

"You didn't ask! You didn't even try!"

Instead of the hard denial she expected, his eyes narrowed. Somehow Derek's lowered voice seemed more dangerous than his shouting. "Why haven't I felt anything from you for three months?"

"Don't change the subject," she ordered, mimicking his own words from two nights ago.

Unfortunately, he cared as little about her orders as she did of his. "You weren't in the vault the whole time. You'd be gone for days according to Boyd."

She crossed her arms and unwittingly bit her bottom lip again as she waited for him to make his point. That made his eyes home in on her mouth and his face cleared — first to confusion, then to anger.

"You're doing it now." His voice as dark as his eyes were bright, trailing up to meet her stare in disbelief.

"What?"

"Why?"

She swallowed, standing her ground. "What?"

Moving faster than humanly possible, Derek closed the gap between them and grabbed her left forearm. Before she could react, he held her arm up between them as his fingers dug into the soft flesh midway between her wrist and elbow. The proximity and the heat made it feel like she was siphoning anger from him instead of pain.

"What the hell are you-"

His claws lengthened to pierce her skin. He stared transfixed at her arm, like he was not believing it, not buying it. Like it wasn't real because he wasn't feeling it. His grip increased and Joe did not even try to tear loose. Even though she saw Derek, saw the loft, she could only think of the vault. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized it hurt — it was still nothing compared to the pain she had endured the last few months.

"Let me feel it," he said, gaze shifting slowly from her arm to her face.

Somehow his hold tightened even further and Joe instinctually bit her teeth together. Don't show fear, don't show pain. Still, a hiss forced itself out as a few drops of blood welled accompanied by the sharp stings of hurt.

"Joe!"

"I'm feeling it," she said through gritted teeth.

If it was her words or the sight of blood, Derek nevertheless snapped out of it. He released her with a half-shove, stepping back. Already pale from his injury, he seemed to grow paler still. Blood — Joe's blood — dripping from his claws onto the concrete floor.

Not looking away, Joe cradled her arm, even as the tiny punctures stopped bleeding and the ache from his hard grip faded. They were from an Alpha though and healed slower than usual. He had hurt her and neither of them seemed to be able to wrap their heads around that fact. She found herself waiting for an apology that never came.

"Why haven't I felt anything from you?" he almost whispered, still stepping back. It was like his eyes did not know where to rest, traveling around her, the loft, coming back to her aching arm. Claws still out, but hand down by his side. "Nothing for three months. Why?"

"Derek-"

"Why?"

"Because," Joe swallowed and flexed her hand. No use in lying and she met his glare evenly, "they didn't want you to."

He kept going backward.

Her arm throbbed and she braced her hand again, wanting to hurt him back. "Not at first anyway. And then I didn't want you to, because I thought, like an idiot, that you were looking for me and like an even bigger idiot, I didn't want you to be in pain. I didn't want them to get to you through me."

His chest heaved and if she focused, she could feel the strain in his abdomen with every breath. He was not feeling her arm though; he was not getting any of her pain; nothing for three months. As expected, his stare averted from her face out into the loft, unable to even look at her. Like looking at her confirmed all of his worst fears.

"What did they do to you?"

"Derek-"

"Answer me, Joe!"

Struggling to keep herself in check, to find purpose and function, she tried to breathe. Gestured to the steel pipe still on the floor. "What they always do. They hurt people, Derek. And yes, they hurt me."

Her voice sounded cold and distant to her own ears.

"They hurt me. Bad. Was that what you wanted to hear? Want me to tell you in detail? Want me to relive that a couple of times for you? So that you can feel really guilty and then you can get really angry about it because that is obviously helping so much right now?!"

A tremble seemed to pass through him at her words, and he kept backing off, blood still dripping off his fingers.

"Because I can tell you everything, Derek. I can tell you how they taught me control of the pain-bond. I can tell you every single little detail — every broken bone, every claw mark, every individual frickin' blood drop — if that's what you need to know. If that's what you care about."

Because it obviously isn't me. Because you have only asked what happened, not how I am or how I feel or if I'm okay. Because I'm not.

Now when he looked up, he looked paler than before. "What about Erica?"

The name felt like a literal kick in the face. Her breath halted in her mouth. To buy time, because her mind was malfunctioning, she could only say: "What?"

"What can you tell me about her?" His eyes, now colder than she had ever seen them, refocused back on her. "What happened to Erica?"

He knew. Her insides froze at the thought. He knew. He knew he knew he knew.

"What happened to Erica?" he repeated, voice slightly louder, eyes still painfully cold.

What happened to Erica? Joe wanted to scream at the thought of what happened to Erica. What she did to Erica. His questions confirmed her suspicion and fear — they had been here. No longer in hiding, a new phase of their plan in motion.

And they had told him what she did to Erica.

"You don't understand," Joe all but whispered. It felt like a barbed-wire coiled around inside her brain. Her voice trembled. "I didn't have a choice."

"What did you do?"

"I don't know."

"Joe-"

"I don't know!"

He swallowed before asking: "Did you kill her?"

Deja vu. To the coffee shop back in February, when she asked him the same about Kate.

Kate. Joe squeezed her eyes shut, memories blurring together, faces mixing. Blond hair. When Derek's pain rolled over her, when he was flayed alive by his sister and Boyd, Joe had only seen the blond hair. Erica's blond hair, but with Kate's face. It didn't help that Erica was half-mad herself, driven to the brink of insanity by the Alphas and the full moon. They had already been fighting for their lives when Joe lost it, lost control, lost her mind.

That's what they had wanted after all. The Alphas.

Did Joe kill her? She tried to. She did her best. Drove a branch through her stomach, panicked and delusional, and held it there. Held it there until Erica's eyes dimmed.

Joe realized she was trembling. Her hands shook when she looked down on them. Her fists clenched, but the shaking continued. What was real and what wasn't? Was this real?

"Did you kill her?" Derek repeated his question. Voice flat and dead. Demanding, even if he knew the answer.

Thought he knew, she reminded herself. Thought he knew. Or did he know? Erica was alive, wasn't she? Not possible though, Joe had killed her. Her eyes had dimmed. Hurt to think. Joe's arm throbbed. Derek had hurt her. He had hurt her when she thought he never would. Like she had hurt Erica when she thought she never would.

"Maybe," Joe said, already retreating. Out of the loft, away from Derek's judgment, his eyes, his pity, his disbelief, and anger. Shaking hands, trembling limbs. You can barely stand. Weak. Pathetic. "They didn't give me a choice."

Derek looked sick, also backing off. "There's always a choice, Joe."

"No," she swallowed and blinked away unshed tears. "No, there's not. Not with us."

Unable to stomach his expression, she turned and walked out. Hide and heal — and Joe wanted to hide.

..

Ah, man...

Okay, so, obviously both Joe and Derek aren't functioning at their highest level here. Derek nearly died just before this argument and he's already spiraling under all this guilt he's been piling on. Joe's feeling the aftermaths of her three months of "vacation", combined with no sleep and insane levels of paranoia. And there's a reason she's not sure what's real or not, where a hint can be found in her conversation with Walker.

So, that being said, we are still aiming for a happy ending eventually. Just gotta break them down good and proper before we build them up. I'm once again asking for your patience here ^^

As always, thank you so much for reading, and thank you so, so much for your reviews! I don't know if I've said it before, but as much as I appreciate everyone who reads, you guys who are reviewing and engaging are the reason I'm updating this so frequently and finding the motivation to write so often. I really hope you understand how much it means to me ❤

So please let me know what you think and otherwise take care of yourself and have a lovely day!

Edit: Only because I have no way to reply directly to Guest-reviews, so I hope you'll see it here. This chapter takes place during episode 4 of season 3, when Deucalion, Kali, and Ennis attack Derek in the loft and impale him on a pole :D