InsaneJournal

Show me how it ends, it's alright.
Who: Jack and Micah (cameo by Luke), then later Jack and Olly
What: Condolences, of course
Where: The packlands
When: Mid-morning, Wednesday, August 14
Ratings: Internalized Angst.



Micah had heard about Deacon McCreary’s unfortunate passing several hours after it happened. News traveled quick between packs when an alpha as powerful as Deacon went down. It hadn’t surprised Micah, but it had pleased him. Deacon had been on a spiral downward for awhile now, and Micah had been content enough to sit back and wait for the old man to bury himself, rather than trying to take any action. There was a twinge of regret that Micah hadn’t been the one to tear the bastard’s throat out himself but he got over it quickly.

Deacon being gone merely meant that various opportunities would be opening up now. And Micah had been waiting for them. He drove out to the packlands a few days after being told the news. The scents were still familiar to him, although he hadn’t stepped foot on the land in quite some time. Mason went with him, and when Micah parked the truck just on the outskirts, Mason joined him, but stayed near the vehicle, per Micah’s orders. He didn’t want his presence to seem threatening to anyone by having his beta close on his heels.

He left Mason and began the walk toward the cabin. Being approached was expected, and Micah recognized Jack’s cousin. The cop. A grin pulled at his lips, though there was little humor in it. “I come in peace,” Micah announced, mild sarcasm tinging his tone as he lifted his hands in mock surrender.

Of all the people Luke had expected to see that day, on the packlands, Micah Redding was not one of them. If he had been in his wolf form, his hackles would have been raised immediately. As it was, Luke kept his expression calm, even if he was acutely aware as to where his gun was against his belt. He didn’t expect any real trouble from the man, but with Deacon dead, other packs would no doubt start sniffing around Jack and Olly, just to see how strong their hold on the McCreary pack actually was.

“Redding,” Luke greeted simply. “Now’s not the best time.”

Micah’s blue-green eyes shifted toward the cabin, and he took his time answering. Jack would smell him, if she was inside, and… he was fairly certain she was. “Let her know I’m here,” he demanded calmly, eyes ticking back to Luke.

Jacqueline McCreary was inside the caretaker’s cabin, otherwise used as the pack den since well before she’d been born. The clearing that surrounded it was scattered by more motorcycles than cars or trucks, due to the presence of Oliver McCreary’s gang- the Draoi - most of whom were preparing a major ritual to be performed in the woods beyond the eyes of the road. They’d been there since last night, just like Jack, and the chemically comatose new wolf in the bedroom.

Jack had been keeping him stable since they diverted his transfer to the county prison infirmary, but at no small cost to herself. She’d had roughly four hours of sleep- not consecutively- since the full moon five days earlier, and in that time had not only reigned in the biggest wolf troupe in the city under her own control, but also helped end her father’s nosedive into insanity through violence- all while injured. She was practically dead on her feet, but her nose… that was wide awake. The scent that laced the breeze that came through the window pulled her out of a restless doze, sharp and familiar, if absent for a long time.

Luke didn’t have to turn his back on Micah Redding in order to tell his cousin of his arrival, because her slim shape appeared in the doorway of the cabin, not twenty-yards away. Behind her loomed her mother’s two brothers, watching her back- and her front.

“You want’im gone, Jack?” her uncle Trevor asked quietly. Jack’s head felt like it was full of rusty nails and her newly opened wounds weren’t healing, thanks to the exhaustion, but she pushed her shoulders straight and pulled in a deep breath. She shook her head no, told them to stay put incase AJ came out of it, and started toward the outlander wolf she used to know so well.

Luke didn't want this to happen. Jack was exhausted and hurt, and far too vulnerable to be in the presence of another pack's alpha. Especially one she had a history with. He thought briefly about going to find Olly, but that would just make the situation worse. Ultimately, this was Jack's decision and he stepped back when Jack came out of the cabin and approached them both. He wouldn't move again unless Jack told him to.

Micah was still acutely aware of Luke's presence. He wasn't stupid enough to lower his guard, even around a beta. But Jack's scent overwhelmed him, bidding long buried memories of their bodies intertwined to surface again. But rather than feel soft nostalgia for the woman he used to love, he only felt bitterness. It was something he pushed aside. Instead his eyes locked onto her face as she walked toward them. Micah wanted to tell her to send the cavalry away
so they could speak in private, but he decided to wait until she spoke first.

It’d been nearly a year since she’d seen him- possibly more, and even then it had been a fleeting encounter. Each time she saw Micah since she broke off from him at Deacon’s ultimatum, the scar of guilt at what she’d done reopened. Every time it healed over, she was a little colder, and a little harder to get close to. She didn’t blame him for that, or any of it. But she couldn’t undo the past, and she couldn’t admit the weaknesses of her youth. Especially now.

It was just something she had to live with, but that wasn’t always easy. Knowing Micah had changed too is the scrap of sour common ground she desperately clung to, as she held his eyes with three feet of distance between them. There was no love for her in them, now. She would do well to remember that.

“Luke- go check on Amanda,” she said simply, her tone quiet through effort to keep her physical state from showing too much. The gesture of sending her beta away- if nearby- was a more powerful show of personal strength.

Luke bit his tongue on protesting, no matter how badly he wanted to. He exhaled sharply through his nostrils, a small gesture of his displeasure at being sent away, but he turned and started back toward the cabin to do as she asked. But he would stay nearby, as the others inside would, in case they were needed.

Micah sent a fleeting, disinterested glance toward Luke as he walked away, smug that Jack had gotten rid of her beta. He had left his by his truck, so it wasn't only fair to meet on common ground. His eyes found Jack's again and his fingers twitched in an effort to keep his hands to himself. He wanted to touch her face, brush his fingers down a strand of her hair. It had been so long since he'd seen her, but even longer since he felt her. The wolf inside of him whimpered, though no sound emitted from Micah's throat. He merely watched her for a silent moment. "We heard about Deacon. I came by to see how you were doin'."

Of course he’d heard about Deacon. There wasn’t a wolf in the region that hadn’t heard about the old McCreary alpha being torn apart by his own children- especially after his daughter had usurped him and taken the pack as the dominant ruler. It was the kind of coup that only happened a hundred years ago, and the waves it created rippled through their underground societies like aftershocks. So far, the other pack leaders had kept their distance in a monachorum of respect, but Jack knew it wouldn’t last long.

Micah was the first to actually show up on their land. A part of her was glad for it. Another was wary and on high alert.

Out of them all, he was undoubtedly the most dangerous..

“I appreciate it,” she said, guarded but calm. “Things are obviously a little crazy here, but they’ll settle down soon enough.”

"And you've got a pack to run," Micah said, lips twitching briefly. It impressed him that Jack had taken down her own father. But he had known since they met that she had that kind of power lurking deep inside of her. She had always been meant to lead. "I've been listening for the last couple of days. Other packs are starting to watch," he continued, his voice low. "They're waiting. Don't think it's gonna settle down as quickly as you're hopin'. They were afraid of Deacon, and even though you were the one to take him down, they ain't gonna be too afraid of you until you give 'em a reason to be."

Jack put every last drop of her focus and energy into Micah’s tone, as well as his words. And body language. She didn’t answer at first because she was taking in his scent, familiar and bone-deep, to dissect the purpose of his presence. Because she knew everything he said was absolutely true. She’d known it since the day she decided to challenge Deacon. She’d been preparing for it among everything else in the shitstorm that was her life for the last two weeks.

She’d known it when she put a wall between her and AJ, because her world was just as dangerous for him now, as it was for her. It still was, even though he lay in her own den, pumped full of sedatives. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind Micah could smell him on her, but that wasn’t relevant to what he was here to discuss. Even if it was more than simple condolences.

“My father was a tyrant, and insane,” she said finally, her chin lifting in the slightest way. “They were afraid of his instability. That was more dangerous to them than anything else.” The other alphas knew Jack was much more intuned with their new, public world, and wouldn’t throw them all into chaos on simple personal whims. That didn’t, however, mean they wouldn’t try a power play. And that included Micah.

“But now I’m curious,” she continued, folding her arms lightly across her belly and keeping her voice as low as his. “What would you suggest.”

He studied her silently, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. And then his smile grew, deepening the dimple in his left cheek as he shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him, though it held little humor. "Nah. Jack. It ain't my place to tell you how to protect yours. That's your job now. You just gotta be prepared for anything, and you know that. New alpha, still lickin' her wounds. You're vulnerable, and you better know who you can trust." His eyes ticked over to the cabin briefly, aware of the eyes watching them from inside.

Unable to resist, Micah brought his hand up to slide a strand of her blonde hair between his fingers. "Who's the pup?" He could smell the other wolf on her, yes. But it wouldn't benefit him to snarl and threaten now. Micah had to pick his battles wisely, and now wasn't the time to try and reclaim what rightfully belonged to him. That didn't mean he couldn't ask questions.

The words know who you can trust may’ve come out of his mouth as a general statement about her situation, but Jack saw them as a deeper, almost dangerous message- at first. It could’ve been exhaustion, or stress fueling the paranoia she knew was part of her father’s downfall, rearing it’s head in her own thoughts. But they had a history, and Micah was just as cunning as he was physically dangerous.

The idea that he’d come out to see exactly how vulnerable she was for himself was not far from her mind. Especially when he felt the need to so subtly point it out.

When he reached for her, every muscle in her spine stiffened, but Jack made it a point not to show it. No doubt he could tell her heckles had raised, even if she did stay stone-still while he examined her hair. The point she was making by not recoiling was that she allowed him the privilege. But he would not receive a mile for the inch she gave him.

“I know you made a long trip to come here-” She wanted to ask him outright what his intentions were, but stopped herself at the last second, in favor of diplomacy. She also didn’t take his baited question about ‘the pup’. “-and I really do appreciate the sentiment, but this is not a good time. I have a funeral to plan.” And a possible murder charge to face. And an unstable cursed werewolf locked in her den. And every other pack in the city circling her like vultures.

His eyes shone with amusement when Jack stiffened at his touch. There had been a time, long ago, when she would have melted against him. Smiled and arched into his hands. The way she looked now, the tension rolling off of her, her mouth in an unforgiving line. It was just another reminder of how she had lied and betrayed him. She wasn't the wolf he had met years ago at that creek behind his house. For years after she left, Micah had doubted that had even been the real Jacqueline. That he had fallen in love with something that never really existed. This here, this was Jack McCreary. Cold, closed off. Unfeeling. That was okay. Because she was everything Micah was now too, and he had her partly to thank for it.

Dropping his hand, he smirked softly. "Take care, McCreary. And good luck." Micah cocked a brow briefly before stepping back, turning and heading back for his truck, and Mason.

In silence, Jack watched him go, but was unable to keep her eyes open for long. They closed, like she’d been punched in the stomach. For a moment it was difficult to breathe.

The young and wild she-wolf she’d been when they met and laughed and loved had been real- she still was, but long ago buried under miles of guilt and her father’s conditioning. For years after she broke off their relationship after Deacon’s ultimatum, she wanted to run back to him and plead for forgiveness, but that meant turning tail on her pack. The pack was everything. It’s how she was raised. It was how Micah was raised too. The problem; they were from two different groups.

Packs rarely merged- they were conquered. And the damage was already done.