Chapter 1 ~ Sometimes life is hard.
December 15, 2005
London, England
The tinny ring of the phone was just audible through the door. Deirdre dropped the grocery bags in the hall outside her cheap, east London flat, cringing as she heard a jar break. But she didn't stop to examine it, yanking the key out of her purse and fumbling with it at the lock. She'd been waiting all week for the Mueller House to call about her social workers application. After a year of studying to get her leaving certificate and then three more years to earn the social work degree while working part time at Jane's cafe, and still another year of juggling an internship and the part time job, she was so very ready to have a normal full time job doing what she'd been trained to do. A cold wind whipped past her, making wisps of hair fly about her face. She brushed them back impatiently as she threw the door to the flat open and lunged for the phone on the little table in the entryway. "Hello?" she gasped.
"May I speak with Deirdre McIntyre, please?" a polished voice asked briskly.
"Speaking," she answered, unable to stop a small smile at the name McIntyre. When Sirius' wife Lina was cleaning up all the paperwork after the war she offered to change anything Deirdre wanted about her life, and it had seemed fitting to change her surname to honor the man who was the only true father-figure she'd ever known.
"This is Mueller House. We wanted to inform you that your application was received, and while quite adequate, we decided to offer the position to someone in house."
A gust of wind whipped through the hallway as another tenant entered the building and banged her still open front door against the wall, the frigid air matching the frigid disappointment in her chest. Deirdre sank slowly onto the thin carpet, holding the phone against her ear. "I…I see," she whispered. "I…thank you for letting me know."
There was a moment of silence on the other end. "I am sorry, duck," the woman on the other end finally said, her voice losing its briskness and sounding truly regretful. "Your recommendation from Valerie Russo was fantastic, but we've had to rearrange some positions so fewer people can manage the workload. We just don't have the resources to be able to hire as many case workers as we'd like."
Deirdre didn't say anything, unable to come up with a polite response.
"I'll keep hold of your resume, shall I?" the woman continued. "If something changes you'll be on our short list for new hires."
There was another long moment of silence and Deirdre finally managed to stutter out, "Yeah, all right…Thanks."
"Good-bye then, duck. And I hope you have a happy Christmas." The woman rang off and Deirdre dropped the receiver back in it's cradle, turning away from it to stare morosely at the spilled bags of groceries just outside her door. Funny how the werewolf side of her always felt closer to the surface when her emotions were in turmoil. Howling, wanting to sink her teeth into something and rip it to shreds, running until her paws were scraped and she couldn't breathe… all those responses felt more instinctual. Out in the hallway a pile of tomatoes had rolled this way and that, and the jam jar was oozing onto the rug. Like my life…a waste…just oozing away. Maybe not technically true, but it felt true.
The hesitant dreams she'd cherished since joining the American pack felt silly and childish in the harsh winter afternoon. First she had hoped the packs would integrate, that Alec could step down from his role as Alpha and let Kieran take over. She hoped she and Alec and Circe could just be a family for a while, without the pressure and fear of leadership during a war hanging over them. But they'd both been killed, attacked by Death Eaters and fellow werewolves who had joined up with a horrible monster of a werewolf called Fenrir Greyback. Then she'd hoped Gareth…well, she wasn't going to think about him. He'd chosen his path and it didn't have a place for her, no matter that he was too naive to see it. The life of a handsome pureblood heir to an enormous silver mining empire in South America couldn't have room for a working class squib from Manchester. Wizarding society would never accept it. He'd been so hurt and confused when she'd said she wouldn't go with him to Peru, she couldn't even look at him. And then there'd been that last horrible row… And so much for not thinking about Gareth, she chastised herself. That dream died a long time ago. You need to leave it buried.
But this dream, this one was supposed to come true. She'd been so certain she'd get the job. It was perfect. She'd be able to use her training and her experience to help other kids avoid the situation she'd been trapped in for so many years. She was so tired of depending on Kieran's charity to stay afloat. Kieran's charity…who was she kidding? Even that came from Gareth and was only funneled through Kieran. Always the responsible eldest brother, Gareth had set up trust funds for all the pack members, and then marched off to Peru to oversee the running of the Rodriguez Mining Corporation and ensure his family was taken care of.
Deirdre shook her head. It was useless to sit here and mourn what wasn't. Not bothering to stand up, she crawled on her hands and knees to the spilled groceries and shoved everything back into the carryalls, then dragged them all inside and shoved the door closed. Only then did she force herself to her feet and take everything into the tiny kitchen alcove, put them away, binned the broken jam jar, and finally cleaned up the spilled gooey mess in the hallway.
She'd just washed her hands and turned on the kettle for tea when the phone rang again. Staring at it, Deirdre felt her heart sink. If there was a downside to being part of a werewolf pack that operated like a family, it was that everyone was always poking into each other's lives. They loved fiercely and fully, and almost nothing was out of bounds for people to know about and have an opinion on. She thought about just letting it ring, and then decided it was better to tell someone and get it over with. Whoever it was on the other end could take care of telling the rest of the family. "Hello?"
"Dee, it's Joshua."
Ok, that was surprising… and worrying. Tall, dark and taciturn, Gareth's adopted brother was not the type to call for a chat. In fact Deirdre didn't think he'd ever called her before, so something must be… "Is Daisy all right?" Deirdre asked, jumping immediately to Joshua's wife who was expecting a baby. The darling, chatty, eccentric girl had been put on bedrest early in her pregnancy after having a miscarriage two years earlier. Everyone was hoping and praying this pregnancy would be uneventful for the young couple.
"She's fine," Joshua said, "I actually called about Gareth. Have you heard from him recently? Has he reached out at all?"
"He wouldn't reach out to me," Deirdre said dryly, then regretted her tone as only silence came from the other end of the phone. "You have to admit I would be pretty far down the list," she amended, trying to sound kinder. "Is something wrong?"
"I had a phone call from Maria, Papá's cousin in Lima."
Deirdre nodded, even though Joshua could hardly see her through the phone. But she remembered the feisty older woman who had come to visit England a few years ago. Gareth and Joshua's adopted father, Oscar Rodriguez, had been killed in the war, and as the CFO of their company, Maria had stepped in to shepherd Gareth as he took over the leadership. "I…I remember Maria," she said belatedly.
There was a long pause. "It's just…weird," he finally said, and then let out a tired sort of sigh. "She wouldn't come right out and say what she thought was wrong, just that he'd not really been himself lately and she thought a visit from someone for the holidays would help. But…ugh, this year it's just impossible!"
Deirdre opened her mouth to ask why, but the normally reticent man didn't give her a chance. A flood of words poured through the phone. "I just can't drop everything to help him again. Isn't it enough that we lost the baby? And it wasn't exactly his fault, but between the drugs and that fling he had with Luís' daughter…it almost ruined us all! And who does Maria expect to go and babysit him because he's having a hard time? Gareth doesn't keep up with anyone! Kieran and Ellie have the kids home for the holidays, Cat and Xavier already left to visit Xander's son, Jane and Hawthorne are in New York with Joel, Izzy's on tour with Nick… We're just scattered. And I can't leave Daisy and I don't want her to try and travel."
There was finally a pause and the sinking feeling that had started when the phone first rang plunged all the way down to Deirdre's toes. She was the only one left. He was going to ask her to go to Peru…by herself…over Christmas… to check on Gareth. "What about Remus…" she found herself saying hesitantly.
"Gone," Joshua replied in a flat tone. "Sirius and Lina took his whole family to some island in the Mediterranean for Christmas. Sirius told me. He was babbling something about painting and a hippogriff herd. Deirdre, I know it's a lot to ask, but you're the only one of the pack who doesn't have other commitments right now."
Other commitments. What he meant was single and unemployed. She couldn't respond. In the kitchen the kettle began whistling shrilly, but she just stood there, not saying anything. What could she say? There weren't words to describe how much she didn't want to go, didn't want to try to apparate or fly in a Muggle airplane, didn't want to be surrounded by people she couldn't communicate with, didn't want to meet a whole host of pure blood South American wizards, and most definitely didn't want to see Gareth.
The silence lasted for a long while, long enough that she started to feel uncomfortable. That was the trouble with quiet people. Silence didn't bother them like it bothered everyone else. Joshua was probably perfectly happy to stand there not saying anything while she wrestled with her conscience. Because no matter how you looked at it, their pack had taken her in, had healed her in body and soul. She owed them, especially Daisy, more than she could ever repay. "Yeah, all right then," she said dully. "I'll go."
"Thank you," Joshua sighed. "I do know this is hard for you, I really do. But I…I can't choose him over Daisy and I can't leave him on his own. And you…well, you know and understand him as well as anyone could. Why don't you meet me at the Russos' bar tonight and we'll figure out how to get you over there and discuss what we think might help him."
"Yeah all right then," she said again. And then she hung up, knowing it was a rude way to end the call and not caring. Someone needed to know she was not really all right with it, and Joshua was the only one available.
She finally went into the kitchen and pulled the protesting kettle off the burner, splashing the hot water over a tea bag in a large mug. Then she pulled the new package of biscuits out that she'd just bought and tore it open. No time like the present to eat her feelings, and tea and bickies usually did the trick. Bickies…Gareth had hated that word. He'd been slicing the gingerbread…that first night they'd gone dancing…
"It's a ridiculous word. Doesn't sound appetizing at all."
"Not any more ridiculous than cookies. How'd toff training go, then?" she asked, setting the cups of tea she'd just made on the table and settling into one of the kitchen chairs beside him.
"Toff training?" he snorted as he pulled out his own chair. "What does that even mean?"
"It's slang for the upper class," she teased. "You've got to learn the ways of the toff, all their balls and banquets. But honestly, how did it go?" Gareth had spent most of the day, most of all his days with Lina and Professor Snape up at the school, trying to learn the customs and wording to fit in with Oscar's upper class family.
"Better than yesterday," he allowed, wincing as he took a sip of the still-too-hot tea. "But it's boring…and exhausting, as only boring things can be."
"What have you got there?" she asked, nodding towards the folder he'd dropped on the table.
"Homework," he replied dismally. "It's family trees and information on all the people I should probably know about."
"It might be fun," Deirdre said, grabbing a slice of the gingerbread. "Finding out more about your family."
"Right now it just feels overwhelming," he said flatly, rubbing his eyes tiredly and then running a hand through his hair. Gareth had complained about it getting too long, but hadn't done anything about it. She was secretly glad. She liked it, the soft blond layers that kept falling back over his forehead.
"Maybe you need a good night's sleep," Deirdre offered. "It might not seem like so much tomorrow."
He turned his head to look idly over the folder, turning the pages with a soft sigh. She could see a scar running up the back of his neck and absently reached to run her hand over a similar scar on her own neck. One of the consequences of being a werewolf…before the healings anyway. Each of them were marked by the violence of the transformations and the blood lust. Only Remus' daughter was unscarred, healed in the womb before she'd even been born.
Watching Gareth look at the papers, Deirdre was dismayed to see a tear splash down on the table top. He didn't even seem aware of it until she tentatively touched his hand. He jumped and knocked over the tea cup, the amber liquid pooling over the tabletop.
"Sorry. I'm sorry," he muttered, getting up and grabbing a dishcloth to mop up the spill. "My mind was a million miles away."
"You have a lot to handle," she said softly. "Are you sure the others couldn't help more?"
"No, I can do it," he sighed. "I just want…I want to forget it all for a little while." He sat back down at the table and then looked up at her, his face suddenly intense. "Let's go dancing."
"Dancing?" she'd echoed, hoping her face didn't betray how the idea both terrified and intrigued her…
Deirdre grabbed another biscuit from the package and chewed. Oh they'd gone dancing all right. Dancing, and to the cinema, and to little pubs, and for walks in the forest. All as secretive as they could manage with the pack around them constantly. Gareth had so needed the break from his responsibilities, and their relationship had a frightened sort of desperation to it that she hadn't been able to see at the time.
"We were so naive," she pronounced aloud to her tea cup. "I was caught up in the idea of belonging to a pack like theirs. We'd just survived a horrible season of war. It was silly and childish."
You loved him, her mind argued back. "But it wouldn't have worked," she whispered. "Not with the life he leads now. And you'd better keep your wits about you while you're over there," she added sternly, frowning down at a half eaten biscuit.
