She slips into the car, buckling up and looking around. Something in the back of her mind tells her it’s a nice car, and she brushes her fingers over the radio console before sitting back. She spends a lot of time watching him as they drive, his hands on the steering wheel and gearshift, the way he pays attention to the road and the other drivers. There’s a moment when she senses the hunter, on the outer edge of her awareness, and freezes, barely breathing as they go by.
Derek kept his eyes on the road the entire time that he drove. He pushed on some music to help ease the silence between them. It wasn’t like she could say much anyways, but he couldn’t look over at her explaining herself when he was behind the wheel. It didn’t take long to get to his loft and he parked the car before he said anything. “We’re here.” He got out and started walking towards the place, expecting her to follow.
She trailed obediently behind him, huddling her hood up around her ears. The building was huge, not at all what she expected — but she wasn’t sure what she expected. She stuck very close to him as they went inside. Up the elevator. To the top? And then he pulled open the great metal door, and she stared at the huge window that met her eyes.
She falls into step beside and a little behind him, off his right shoulder, and makes sure he’s looking at her before she nods. Her face burns with embarrassment, though. Even though she /knows/ she’s all but helpless out here, homeless and amnesiac, it still feels very wrong to her to be asking for this much help.
When they get to his car, she has another one of those strange episodes of memory, where she knows what she’s looking at, but can’t connect it to herself at all. Did she have one? Does she even know how to drive? She remembers how it opens, that cars lock, that she has to buckle up once inside. But it seems all habit.
Derek nodded in return. He would have to find a place to get her some food. He wondered what she would like. A burger would probably be fine. You could never go wrong with a cheeseburger. He unlocked the car when he got to it, opening the driver’s door. “Get in,” he said simply as he sat down in the driver’s seat, starting the engine up once he was inside.
She slips into the car, buckling up and looking around. Something in the back of her mind tells her it’s a nice car, and she brushes her fingers over the radio console before sitting back. She spends a lot of time watching him as they drive, his hands on the steering wheel and gearshift, the way he pays attention to the road and the other drivers. There’s a moment when she senses the hunter, on the outer edge of her awareness, and freezes, barely breathing as they go by.
She shakes her head, helplessly. She hadn’t meant him to know. She doesn’t even know /why/. Maybe it’s because of how kind he is, under that gruff exterior, or simply because he’d rescued her.
“I’m not the type of guy that people have crushes on,” he said simply, turning his back to put the dishes away. “It’s not something I’m used to.”
She brings him the rest of the dishes, perforce silently. It sounds like he doesn’t believe her, and she doesn’t know what to do about that. She stops, to watch him, the way he moves, listening to the way he feels about himself. It hurts. It’s like he thinks he doesn’t deserve to be cared about.
When he’s finished with the dishes, she slips up beside him and gives him a hug.
She shakes her head, helplessly. She hadn’t meant him to know. She doesn’t even know /why/. Maybe it’s because of how kind he is, under that gruff exterior, or simply because he’d rescued her.
She blinks up at him for a minute before a slight smile curves her mouth. She turns her face into the jacket and rubs her cheek on it, then pulls it from around her shoulders and holds it out to him insistently. Her other hand pats at her cloak, sweeping the forest bits from it, and when he takes his jacket back she scrambles to her feet and pulls the cloak back around her shoulders firmly.
Derek takes the jacket back with a confused expression and places it back over his shoulders. She was definitely an interesting character. He shrugged and nodded towards his car before he headed towards it, hoping that he meant that she should follow him. Company wouldn’t be such a bad thing and she couldn’t even speak, something he didn’t do much of himself. “Are you hungry?”
She falls into step beside and a little behind him, off his right shoulder, and makes sure he’s looking at her before she nods. Her face burns with embarrassment, though. Even though she /knows/ she’s all but helpless out here, homeless and amnesiac, it still feels very wrong to her to be asking for this much help.
When they get to his car, she has another one of those strange episodes of memory, where she knows what she’s looking at, but can’t connect it to herself at all. Did she have one? Does she even know how to drive? She remembers how it opens, that cars lock, that she has to buckle up once inside. But it seems all habit.
She sags with relief as she senses his understanding. Another dizzy moment comes and goes before she looks up at him and nods. She feels like she’s been running in circles for so long, trying to find someone in this town who can help her — some way to be safe. She’s not a fighter, but now that she knows what he is … there’s hope in her eyes.
Derek almost wanted to be a little more frantic with his movements. It’s clear that this woman has had anything but good luck if her current apparel indicates anything. And more so, her scent indicated the stress and fear in her. Swiftly removing his jacket, he throws it over her, “Come on, my car’s up here, I’ll take you back to my place. We’ll figure out something there.”
She blinks up at him for a minute before a slight smile curves her mouth. She turns her face into the jacket and rubs her cheek on it, then pulls it from around her shoulders and holds it out to him insistently. Her other hand pats at her cloak, sweeping the forest bits from it, and when he takes his jacket back she scrambles to her feet and pulls the cloak back around her shoulders firmly.
She presses her lips together, frustrated. Fumbling at her throat, she pulls the cloak off, revealing that her clothes are ragged and dirty and she’s all but skin and bones. She spreads the gray material on the ground, and kneels beside it. Using pine needles, bits of twig, and whatever else comes to hand from the forest floor, she spells out, ‘AM EMPATH – AM MUTE – HUNTED – HELP ME’.
Derek’s eyes widen as he looks her over. She looked like death. He watched her create the words with everything that was around them, reading them out loud before turning to look at her. “How can I help you?” he asked, his eyebrow raised. “Do you need me to protect you?”
She sags with relief as she senses his understanding. Another dizzy moment comes and goes before she looks up at him and nods. She feels like she’s been running in circles for so long, trying to find someone in this town who can help her — some way to be safe. She’s not a fighter, but now that she knows what he is … there’s hope in her eyes.
Her lips part in a silent ‘o’ of understanding, and some of the weight seems to fall from her shoulders. Her smile is relieved. She steps back a little, and points to herself, then touches her ears, then reaches out and touches his chest, over his heart, very lightly.
Derek watches her, still unsure of her intentions. She didn’t speak and that was slightly uneasy. Her actions didn’t help and he flinched when she touched his chest, taking a step back. “I don’t understand,” he said softly. He wasn’t very good when it came to guessing games or charades.
She presses her lips together, frustrated. Fumbling at her throat, she pulls the cloak off, revealing that her clothes are ragged and dirty and she’s all but skin and bones. She spreads the gray material on the ground, and kneels beside it. Using pine needles, bits of twig, and whatever else comes to hand from the forest floor, she spells out, ‘AM EMPATH – AM MUTE – HUNTED – HELP ME’.
She touches one claw with a gentle fingertip, then holds up her hand, fingers curved a little, like his. Her fingernails are long, but they aren’t claws. She looks from her hand to his, then back up at him, still radiating that curiosity. It’s as if she’s saying, ‘why do you have claws and I don’t?’
Derek watched her, his eyebrows almost pressed together as he tried to concentrate. “What?” he asked, bringing his hand back to himself and letting his claws retract. “It’s because I’m a werewolf … It’s why my eyes glow, too.”
Her lips part in a silent ‘o’ of understanding, and some of the weight seems to fall from her shoulders. Her smile is relieved. She steps back a little, and points to herself, then touches her ears, then reaches out and touches his chest, over his heart, very lightly.
She touches one claw with a gentle fingertip, then holds up her hand, fingers curved a little, like his. Her fingernails are long, but they aren’t claws. She looks from her hand to his, then back up at him, still radiating that curiosity. It’s as if she’s saying, ‘why do you have claws and I don’t?’
