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Summer is truly starting to set in as the sun rises slowly in the blue, cloudless sky, and the birds outside are chirping merrily. But with the large window covering most of the wall in the main living space and the sunlight above, Derek stirs with a groan, burying his face further into the warm pillow and the covers surrounding him to shield his sensitive eyes.
He feels a little groggy as he starts to pull himself out from the depths of sleep, not that far from what it feels like after experiencing wolfsbane in his system, and, what he can only assume, it feels like to have a hangover.
It doesn't take long for him to fully come to his senses and when he does he jolts up with a start. Brigid. He looks to his right where she's still lying beside him, but thankfully he doesn't appear to have disturbed her. She looks peaceful in slumber, he thinks, unable to remove his eyes from her sleeping form, and he reaches out without thinking about it, carefully brushing the wild strands of red hair away from her face. He finds himself smiling, almost as if nothing's changed and they're still teenagers without a care in the world, but the weight of the darkness around his heart doesn't let him forget for long.
He's glad she's here, he realises, even though he still can't let himself believe it's going to last; he wants to, but he can't. The second he starts to let himself hope, he knows everything can only go downhill from there, it always does. But maybe if she sticks around long enough, if she manages to settle without bolting as soon as she discovers every single sordid detail, and he knows she's going to have to meet the others at some point.
Derek carefully manoeuvres himself into a sitting position, back against the head of the bed and covers hanging over his clothed lap. He didn't plan to sleep through the entire night and half of the morning as well, but he needed it, and he knows that Brigid did as well. And he can already feel a lot of the weariness gone from the solid night of sleep. He catches the fresh scent of Isaac, but he can't hear his heartbeat from within the loft, so he knows he must have been and gone, always trying to stay out of his way to make sure he's not a nuisance. He doesn't mind having him around, though, and it's not as if either of them have anyone else, but he can't help feeling relief that he can hold off on introductions a while longer until he can catch her up with the recent going-ons.
He doesn't know how long he sits there, watching as the sun fully rises in the sky and glancing down to the woman beside him, a woman he never thought he would get to meet and the memories of the girl she used to be faded from the hard years that followed. He's an alpha, yes, but he knows he's far from perfect, that he wasn't born to the role, and that he's going to make a lot more mistakes before he finds his feet. And he's still got a long way to go before he can be anything to anyone beyond that, but if she's at his side then he thinks he can learn to try that much harder to discover who he was supposed to be before he got thrown off course.
He feels a little groggy as he starts to pull himself out from the depths of sleep, not that far from what it feels like after experiencing wolfsbane in his system, and, what he can only assume, it feels like to have a hangover.
It doesn't take long for him to fully come to his senses and when he does he jolts up with a start. Brigid. He looks to his right where she's still lying beside him, but thankfully he doesn't appear to have disturbed her. She looks peaceful in slumber, he thinks, unable to remove his eyes from her sleeping form, and he reaches out without thinking about it, carefully brushing the wild strands of red hair away from her face. He finds himself smiling, almost as if nothing's changed and they're still teenagers without a care in the world, but the weight of the darkness around his heart doesn't let him forget for long.
He's glad she's here, he realises, even though he still can't let himself believe it's going to last; he wants to, but he can't. The second he starts to let himself hope, he knows everything can only go downhill from there, it always does. But maybe if she sticks around long enough, if she manages to settle without bolting as soon as she discovers every single sordid detail, and he knows she's going to have to meet the others at some point.
Derek carefully manoeuvres himself into a sitting position, back against the head of the bed and covers hanging over his clothed lap. He didn't plan to sleep through the entire night and half of the morning as well, but he needed it, and he knows that Brigid did as well. And he can already feel a lot of the weariness gone from the solid night of sleep. He catches the fresh scent of Isaac, but he can't hear his heartbeat from within the loft, so he knows he must have been and gone, always trying to stay out of his way to make sure he's not a nuisance. He doesn't mind having him around, though, and it's not as if either of them have anyone else, but he can't help feeling relief that he can hold off on introductions a while longer until he can catch her up with the recent going-ons.
He doesn't know how long he sits there, watching as the sun fully rises in the sky and glancing down to the woman beside him, a woman he never thought he would get to meet and the memories of the girl she used to be faded from the hard years that followed. He's an alpha, yes, but he knows he's far from perfect, that he wasn't born to the role, and that he's going to make a lot more mistakes before he finds his feet. And he's still got a long way to go before he can be anything to anyone beyond that, but if she's at his side then he thinks he can learn to try that much harder to discover who he was supposed to be before he got thrown off course.
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Before he can close the distance and kiss her again, Derek comes to the realisation that they're no longer alone a second too late, but a moment before the voices carry.
He hangs his head and groans, taking in a deep breath, because as much as he wants her to meet the pack and their allies, he had been hoping to get a little more time with her alone first.
"Stiles," he warns, exasperated, but not really surprised. "Do I need to go over the knocking policy again?"
He gives Isaac a look, as if this is all his fault, and he lowers his head sheepishly.
"Yes," he answers in response to Brigid's question. "Unfortunately." He holds onto her hand without really thinking about it, thumb stroking the back of it soothingly, reassuring her that she's safe. "The crass one is Stiles, the surprised into silence one is Scott, and I think you've already met Isaac."
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"Dude, Isaac shows up and says there's some strange wolf here, we're going to come." The one called Stiles points out.
"Peter was the last one." Scott puts in, obviously finally finding his voice.
Isaac clears his throat and raises a hand. "Hi."
Brigid just holds onto Derek's hand, letting him reassure her. It certainly stops the moment when two wolves and a human burst in. "Hi. I'm Brigid."
Scott just looks confused, like she just waved a pepper in front of a puppy. "You two are married?"
Not yet. But she doesn't say it. She just puts her head on Derek's shoulder. He really needs help with his pack. "It's Irish." She grumbles.
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Derek ignores Stiles entirely because he's not having this discussion again, not right now, and then he rolls his eyes at Isaac and Scott; he fights the urge to growl as he takes note of the way Isaac as eyeing her up a little bashfully.
"Brigid's in the pack. If you have any questions or comments, keep them to yourselves." Because, really, the finer details are none of their business. "Scott, if you see the Argents before I do, let them know she's with us."
He turns his head and nuzzles the top of hers, whispering so quietly only she can should be able to hear, "Technically, only Isaac is pack, but the others are good. I...trust them."
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"You bit someone else?" Stiles blurts out. He seems to do that a lot.
Brigid's head jerks up and she growls, her eyes glowing blue. "I was born a wolf. My Da was a wolf." Her eyes fade back to brown, watching Scott step in front of Stiles. "And even if he had, it isn't your right to question an Alpha." Her back straightens. "He makes the decisions for the pack."
"His decisions haven't always been the best." Scott points out.
She raises an eyebrow. "Because you're the Alpha and know everything?" Brigid doesn't like wolves that challenge Alphas without reason. Especially not in front of a new Wolf whom they don't know.
Brigid looks at Derek. "Maybe I shouldn't work for a while and should teach these kids manners?" Is she being arrogant? Yes, but she's also a pack wolf that knows how bad Alphas can actually be.
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"You can try," he throws out, sceptically looking at everyone around him. It's not as if he's the best at communication never mind manners, and he almost wants to laugh at how much better she would be as an alpha; she's been in a pack her entire life, and he's almost forgotten what it's like, or he's tried hard not to remember because it's too painful.
"I've known Brigid a long time. She's from a pack in Boston, but she's with us now. And you don't need to know anything else."
He gives Scott a glowering look, out of spite more than anything, because he's still not quite over the fact he came up with his own plan, forgot to let Derek in on it, and then used him to achieve his goal. He doesn't plan on giving the bite to anyone else, not after Jackson; he should have known better, but he's not planning to make the same mistake again.
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Isaac raises his hand. "Um, is she going to be staying? Because I can... stay at Scott's or something?"
Irish fair skin is a curse. A curse and Brigid has it in spades. She clears her throat. "I'm staying and there's no reason for you to leave." Brigid looks at Derek for confirmation. Pack should stay together. Or at least close to one another and it really sits wrong with her that he'd go stay with a wolf that isn't pack.
"So, wait, you're from Boston and you've known Derek for a 'long time'?" Stiles puts in. "How long is that?"
Brigid ignores Stiles. He's like that irritating chihuahua that Carlos had had when they were children.
"The Argents left. France, I think." Scott puts in. "I dunno when they'll be back."
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"Wait, what?" Stiles asks, glaring daggers at Isaac and trying to communicate something to Scott with a facial expression that appears more like constipation than anything intelligible. "Nah-ah, no way, dude, if he moves in with you, I'll never get to spend any quality bro time with you. Alone." He folds his arms and drops onto the sofa, sulking.
Raising an eyebrow at Stiles, Derek skips over to Isaac since he no longer seems to want an answer to his previous question, too distracted by what affects him most. "You can stay over there occasionally, but I'd prefer you here. With the others gone, it's important we stay close." It's true, at least, the pack is still a beta down from being a true pack, but it'll be good for him to get used to Brigid, too, and maybe if they get along, it'll work in everyone's favour.
"Okay," he nods, looking at Scott thoughtfully, a little relieved to know the Argents aren't currently around, but also anticipating what their reactions might be to a new wolf sticking around in town.
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"Derek?" She drops her voice low so that only he can hear her. "Why don't I get dressed and run to the store to pick up some food and you can get rid of everyone but Isaac? Pack... needs to talk?" It's the softest suggestion because she can tell how awkward Isaac feels about everything and the other two - especially the pouty brat teenager - aren't helping matters.
"Stiles that's not -"
"Dude, I barely see you now, all wrapped up in wolf business. And I'm the one who knew about wolf business before you did!" Stiles flings a hand out toward the pair on the bed. "Now -"
"Hey, Isaac?" Brigid slides off the bed. She digs in her purse and grabs the keys. "Could you go empty my car? If the three of us are going to be staying here, I need to do some major grocery shopping."
Isaac catches the keys. "Which one?"
"The blue hybrid. It's the one filled with boxes. Be care of them, please."
He shrugs. "Sure." He glances at Derek for confirmation.
Brigid puts her purse down and snatches Stiles' arm. "If you touch my book, I will rip your arm off." She backs up the threat with a soft growl.
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"That goes for you," he pointedly adds, pointing out with his index and middle finger to indicate Scott and Isaac, but it's more for Isaac than anything. He then nods to Isaac to reassure him it's all right to do as she's asking.
He turns back to Brigid as he gets up, hiding a smile from the others that she will catch if she happens to be looking his way, and he whispers closer to her ear, "I'll take care of them."
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Brigid watches Stiles, before flicking a glance at Derek, seeing his lips twitch just the tiniest bit. Her fingers let go of Stiles slowly. She probably shouldn't enjoy him snatching his arm back, but in this instance she does.
Brigid isn't cruel, and she normally doesn't act in such a way, but Derek needs someone to enforce what he's doing. Turning her back on Stiles - it's subtle body language, stating that he's not important enough to pay attention to - she looks up at Derek. Her brown eyes are amused.
"I'm going to shower. Make me a grocery list?" She whispers, before slipping away from him and padding up the stairs toward the shower.
"Wait." Scott walks over and looks toward the stairs. "Are you dating her?" He asks, once the water starts running.
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Derek merely raises an eyebrow at Stiles, as if to ask if he's seriously going to go there, and it seems to be enough to shut him up. He remains on the sofa, but he loses the sulking dramatics and seems to be distracted by the book, eyeing it up with twitchy fingers, though he doesn't make a move towards it.
"Do you have a problem with that?" he asks, glaring at Scott in warning, trying to portray the fact that, if he does, then it's not Derek's problem and he doesn't care enough to hear it. "She's going to be around for a while, that's all you need to know. And she's going to feel welcome."
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"How long has it been since you've seen her?" Scott asks. "You may have known her, but how much do you know about her now? Did you call her here?" He crosses his arms. "C'mon, Derek. She may be an old friend, but we haven't had good luck with those."
Stiles reaches for the book again. "What is this, anyway?" He bounces his leg in place. "There's a guy and a wolf on here, but the guy has two separate eye colors."
"What?" Scott asks.
Stiles shrugs. "One is gold, the other blue. The wolf is red." He looks up at Derek. "Like werewolf eye colors."
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"Peter informed her that I was alive." He doesn't know why he's answering, he's the alpha, the one in charge, but he does still hope that he might one day get Scott to agree to join the pack, so he keeps his tone even, trying to be as civil as possible despite feeling his patience wearing thin. "Our parents made an arrangement for us to be married." Before they died, he thinks, but bites his tongue to stop him from adding. "She's different. She's..." Not Kate. "You can trust her."
Scott doesn't look at all appeased, as he folds his arms tightly over his chest and raises a sceptical eyebrow, and he looks as if he wants to continue, but then Stiles interrupts.
Derek is up and on his feet in seconds, standing right beside Stiles with a hand firmly on the book to keep it closed, and a warning growl that, to no one's surprised, has no affect escaping him. "Hands off." He tries to loom more over Stiles, but they're closer in height these days, which is a disappointment. "If you have questions, ask them. Touch this and I'll enjoy watching as she rips you limb from limb." It's a lie, no doubt everyone knows it; he will, of course, abuse his power if it comes to it, but he's not sure of her control, how well anchored she is if something triggers her wolf instincts.
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"I'm with Scott on that one. Anyone that trusts Peter doesn't get a pass." Stiles isn't afraid of Derek. He's seen him injured one too many times to be too afraid. "And what do you mean arranged to be married? Is that like... a thing?"
Isaac sets down the last load of books, covered in the suit bags and walks over to put the keys down. "Arranged to be married?"
"Among some wolf packs, yes, it is still a thing. Usually, it's the older, eastern ones that still cling to European ways." Brigid says, walking down the stairs. She's put her hair up in a twist, and changed from tank top and yoga pants to a flowery green top and a blue and green shimmering ankle-length skirt. "Some of the European packs still have it as status quo. Others are starting to lean away from it." Her hand rests on the book and there are claws on her fingers. "My Da, my former Alpha and Derek's mother arranged the match between the pair of us." She looks at Scott. "And I didn't know who called me, until Derek told me and yes, I came out here just on being told he was alive."
She looks down at Stiles. "Leave the book alone, or I'll do something worse than rip your arm off."
"Yeah? Sorry, he's been sourwolf at me too long, there's nothing you can do that'll scare me." Stiles scoffs.
Brigid ticks up an eyebrow. "I'll bake cookies and make you watch everyone else enjoy them, while you get nothing." Stiles sputters as she turns to Derek, after writing her number down. "I'll be back in a couple hours. I... need to go to Confession, then hit the store, if that's alright?"
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"No one said anything about trusting him." But he wasn't wrong, was he? He knows he never would have contacted her himself, and if she hadn't turned up anyway, he knows he never would have. He's still not sure about everything, but she's here, now, and it's not as if he's going to turn her away; he doesn't want to turn her away. But he also doesn't doubt that Peter had an angle when he tipped her off, and that really is something he needs to have a conversation about that he's not looking forward to.
Their hands brush as she puts her hand upon the book as well as him, but he doesn't leave it there long, letting her take charge; she seems better at it than him already. That, and he's taking in her new attire, smiling at the way it compliments her hair, thoroughly distracted for a moment.
Trying not to look too smug at a threat that actually has more of a reaction than him being thrown up against something, Derek turns from Stiles to nod at Brigid. "You're free to come and go as you please. Are you okay to find your way around?" He lowers his voice at the question, trying to keep their conversation as private as possible, but knowing it's in vain.
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"Wait, you cook?" Isaac puts in, from where he's leaning. He blinks when she turns to look at him. "Not that Derek can't, it's just..."
He's obviously trying to find a diplomatic way of putting it, and Brigid takes pity on him. "Yes. I cook." Her fingers ghost over Derek's for a moment, and then she grabs her purse and turns for the door. "It'll only take me a couple of hours."
Most of that is going to be spent at Confession, because wow is she having some very... carnal thoughts in the last few hours. Yep, definitely needs to head to Confession.
The door clangs shut behind her, and Stiles turns to Derek. "One; she's definitely evil and two; Peter has some reason for calling her here and it's probably not just to get you married off."
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He doesn't rise to the cooking comment, he knows that was always Laura's thing, and even then it was touch and go. His mother, however, well, she was an amazing cook, even though sometimes he wonders how she found the time. He wishes he could have salvaged her recipe book from the ashes of the house, but the library had little left afterwards.
"Take as long as you need." He offers a rare but gentle smile, and he knows he's at an angel that blocks the others from view when he leans in to press a light kiss to her cheek. "I'll take care of everything else."
He sighs as he watches her exit.
His fists clench at his sides, and he grits out, "She's not evil." She's not. Right? It's been nagging at the back of his mind, as much as he wants to believe her, as much as he does believe her, he knows it's going to take some time to shake it off, to stop being over-cautious and paranoid. Kate really does have a lot to answer for, but he's certain this one is worth the risk. "I plan to deal with Peter later." Or as soon as he tracks him down, he's been disappearing for days a time of late. Turning to Scott and Stiles. "Don't the two of you have anywhere else to be?"
"Nope!" Stiles looks smug as he stresses on the p, eyeing the book again, but not daring to move towards it. "We're good, but thanks for asking. It's good to know you care."
"Uh, yeah, actually, there's that thing," Scott says, turning to Stiles with a pointed look, eyes widening obviously as he tries to convey the message. "You remember? I promised my mom." He goes over to the couch where Stiles is sprawled and grabs at his arm, tugging him, which earns him a disgruntled squeak.
"Seriously? Seriously, Scott, that's what you're going with? A thing."
But Derek tunes them out as they head to the door, hearing the slide of it as it opens and closes.
"Uh," Isaac starts timidly, raising a finger, like he's asking permission from a teacher, "Should I--?"
"No. You're pack, they're not. I want Brigid to feel welcome here."
OMG THIS GOT TL;DR AGAIN, but introspection, yay?
“Go on, child.”
There’s also something to be said for the anonymity of the Confessional. The tears roll down her cheeks as all her bravado, all the courage she’d drummed up to show Derek, to put on in front of the non-pack, flows away like water in a stream. It takes her a moment to get it under control. “Just over two weeks ago, I got a phone call. Someone that my Da wanted me to marry was still alive, even though we’d been told he died. I… destroyed everything. Packed my books, signed my house over to a friend’s mother to be sold, lock, stock and barrel; quit my job, and abandoned the only family I’ve ever had just on the word of an anonymous voice on my voicemail.”
The priest is silent for a moment. “Go on.”
The gentle urging brings it all out: Her worries about marrying Derek, her fears that she’s only going to worsen his position, her utter terror that Markus will come after them when he learns it’s a weak pack out here – agreement or no agreement. Her fear that she’s dragged her dearest friend into something that he can’t possibly defend against, because he doesn’t know everything and she can’t tell him everything for fear of putting him in further danger.
“Do you love this man? This Derek?”
She has to think. She loved the boy he was, and she can still tell that boy is there, buried, hurt, alone. But she can see the other changes in him too. The will that is holding things together as much as possible dominates, while the utter control and power of the Alpha simmers below the surface, untapped, untried, and possibly not trusted. But there’s one thing she’s sure of: “I do, Father. If he were here, I’d ask you to marry us, immediately.”
There’s a soft chuckle from the other side of the screen. “Then have faith, child. God puts His trust in us, even though we wish He wasn’t so confident sometimes. Trust your faith, and the love you have for this man. All will turn out as God wills it.” A pause, before the priest speaks again, “and if you ever need to be married, just ask, and I will gladly perform the ceremony.”
After receiving her penance, Brigid steps out of the Confessional and goes to pray.
---
Back in the loft, Isaac looks at Derek, a little unsure. This is all new information and a new wolf. “Really? An arranged marriage?” He settles on the couch, his elbows braced on his knees as he studies his Alpha. “Are you going to go through with it?” He waves around. “I mean, this is okay, for us, but I can’t imagine a wife being happy with the arrangement.”
He’s heroically not going to mention him walking in on them last night. He hadn’t seen anything, and it hadn’t smelled like sex in here.
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Or maybe he's as paranoid as he's been since the day one of them burnt down his home and took his family with it.
"Whatever it is you're imagining, you're wrong." Because it's not the same as how humans doing it, the parents know their children differently, and neither he nor her have ever had a problem with it. In fact, he thinks, if things had been different, with or without the promise of marriage, he believes he would have ended up there one way or another. "She had a pack, in Boston. But she left them, sold her house, quit her job as soon as she found out I wasn't dead. Does that sound to you like someone's forcing her hand?" Without either of their original packs, there's no one left to actually force it.
"Uh, I guess not, no." But Isaac still sounds unsure, unconvinced, and Derek doesn't sound as certain as he had hoped he would; he's still not sure why should would give up everything for a man she no longer really knows, someone who is as ruined as the remains of the house he used to call home. But he's working on getting his head around it, on accepting it as it is, and yet he's currently stuck feeling guilty for being the reason she dropped everything. She had a life, maybe not the best, but a successful one, one with a future. "You didn't answer the other question."
"Yes."
"Yes?" he sounds confused, and definitely as if he doesn't quite understand, but it's an answer.
Derek sighs in frustration, but keeps himself calm. "I...yes, Isaac, I'm going through with it." There's a pause, where he frowns in thought. "Unless the pack doesn't work for her, if she changes her mind before it happens."
"It sounds like you're trying to talk yourself out of it to me." Isaac looks at him with a mix of judgement and amusement, but at least he doesn't openly object.
Derek doesn't answer, and the two of them fall into a companionable silence for a time.
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Her phone rings as she's getting out of the car. The trip had taken longer than she'd planned, simply because GPS sometimes sucked. Clicking on the bluetooth, she smiles. "I'm back, I have -"
"Back in Boston. Good. Then, you can stop -"
"Markus." Her heart trips faster and faster and the breath is pushed out of her lungs. She cradles the box next to her chest and leans it against her car. Brigid hadn't expected him to find her new phone number so quickly. Is Senora Montoya alright?
There's a growl down the line and her body freezes. He might not be her Alpha any more but there's a tone to it that the Wolf responds to, whether she wants it to or not.
"I'm still your Alpha, Brigid. Where are you?" A soft compulsion threads through his words and she has to bite her tongue not to answer him immediately. "Where. Are. You?"
She almost whimpers, trying to head inside. She makes it to the stairs, before she can't go any further. "No. You're not -"
"Brigid." His eyes will be glowing red, and his claws of his unoccupied hand will flex against the tattered arm of his recliner. She's seen him do it countless times to others.
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He turns a page as he hears it, though, the racing heartbeat that he would know anywhere, and if he weren't suddenly struck by something he can't quite name, he might question why he recognises everything that is her so easily after all these years, why it feels so right in doing so.
He glances over to Isaac, which confirms his own quiet panic: something is wrong. They're both up and over to the door in seconds.
Derek throws it open, a loud sliding and a bang as he does so, and then he's racing out into the hall and down the stairs, making his way to her.
He looks openly concerned, anxious and panicked, senses on full alert as he tries to locate the threat. But then he hears it, the voice on the other end of the phone calling her name in a way that appears calm, but obviously carries warn and a lack of patience. He's got his arms around her before he knows what he's doing, trying to reach for the phone as he does so.
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Isaac looks at the two of them, not knowing what to do. Tentatively, he reaches out to touch Brigid's shoulder and finds his hand caught by hers, fingers tangling together. Her eyes are closed, and he looks at Derek, confusion and a little fear warring on his face.
"Brigid!"
She flinches at the growl, more out of habit than anything else. He might not know where she is; there might still be time. But there's a compulsion in that tone that she's been conditioned to follow for a long time.
"Brigid, I can hear you breathing. You're coming back to Boston, immediately." Markus isn't asking; he's telling. "You have translations to do and there's two Alphas that are coming in to meet you."
Squeezing her eyes shut, she curses her heightened senses. She can hear every word he says and knows what he's talking about.
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He loosens his hold a little, releasing her with his right arm so he can bring the phone up to his ear.
"Brigid has a new alpha now," he reports, voice calm but stern, a steeliness to it that's blander than his usual grumpiness, as if he's holding so much back that he would love to let rip. If she notices that his left hand is in a tight fist around her back, well, it's the only thing keeping him in control. "A new pack. She won't be leaving for Boston, not now, not ever." He tries not to lie, even if the technology is no where near good enough to carry his heartbeat, he's still cautious. "Don't call this number again, and don't try to find her. If you do, I'll be waiting."
He presses the end call button and slips it into a pocket; if he calls back, he's got no intention of answering, and he doubts Brigid would want to hear that voice again either.
He nods to Isaac, praising as much as reassuring, even if it does fall short; she might have a new alpha, a new pack, but they're not a complete one, even with Peter they're still weak, and he knows creating more betas at this point will only draw more attention to them. If word travels too quickly, Markus won't need to search for her.
"Let's get you upstairs," he encourages softly, sliding an arm around her back and letting her lean into him, taking her wait as he turns them to head upwards. "Isaac, take her things."
Isaac grabs the bags and heads up without a word; he takes no longer than a few seconds to have a moment of pride in his beta for taking the order, even if it's a small, simple one, it's one more closer to rebuilding what bond they had before the summer.
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Brigid doesn't look up. "There's more in the car. Isaac, would you mind?" She needs something to focus on. Going outside hurts right now and she needs to contact Carlos and his mother.
"No, of course not." He carefully closes the door behind him.
Her hand reaches out and rests on the top of the book. "It's not going to be long before his Emissary contacts the one here." It'll probably be in an email, maybe a phone call, maybe some... mysterious druid way that she doesn't know about. "I know the vet knew about the arrangement between us, and it probably won't take long before word gets back to him that I'm here, anyway." Druids had weird ways of finding things out. She wouldn't be surprised if there is something surrounding the city... now she's just making things up to panic herself.
Brigid swallows and tears well in her eyes. She hadn't meant to bring trouble to Derek's door. Her only thought had been to get to him, to find out if it was true. Nothing else. "I'm sorry, Derek. I didn't mean to bring trouble. I just..." No, there's no excuse, no reasoning. "I'm so sorry. If you don't want to deal with the trouble..." She looks up at him. "I understand." An easy out for him. Brigid doesn't want to leave. Her heartbeat tells that truth. But if he can't, if he doesn't want to, she'll go, and she'll understand.
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"I'll speak to him," he tries to assure her, but even if he does and Deaton chooses to protect them, it won't last; sooner or later, Markus will find out where she's gone, and if Peter tipped her off, it's not a difficult assumption to come to that he might have done the same to the alpha. Sometimes, on days like this, he wishes he would let Stiles have his wish and kill Peter again. "He told me that he made a promise to my mother," he swallows, as if the words on this topic are all filled with razors cutting their way out of his throat, "He said he would protect me, do what he could to keep me safe. For her." He doesn't point out that he doesn't exactly like Derek, and he's certainly not his biggest fan, but maybe with a little help, an excuse to seek him out that doesn't involve a fly-by visit in the middle of an attack, he could become the alpha he should be, the one he was never born to be. With Brigid here, he wants to, as much as he wants to find his missing betas and stitch his pack back together in order to do so.
"You're pack," he says simply, and maybe some alphas kick their betas out or worse when they do something to anger them, but Derek doesn't intend to be that kind of an alpha; he's got enough guilt to last him a lifetime, he doesn't need more. "As your alpha, I'll do what I can to protect you." And if Markus finds his way here, he'll die trying to take him down if he so much as touches Brigid.
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