"Derek!"

His name echoed throughout the forest. A couple of butterflies fluttered in front of me, but I swatted them away. I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted again, "Derek!"

I stumbled through undergrowth and tree branches. He had to be in here somewhere, and he had to be able to hear me. I wasn't an idiot, I knew he was ignoring me. But I didn't want to be ignored, I wanted to be heard.

"I know you can hear me! I'm not going away, Derek. I'll just sit right here, and you can come to me. I'm not leaving this spot."

It was clear Derek would not be visiting anytime soon, though I was sure he could smell me and knew I was serious. That was fine. I knew Derek, and I knew he would come to me eventually if only out of worry for me. I could wait.

Scenes of a movie played out in front of my mind. A short blond girl was waiting for her friend to show up. She was starting to become concerned and bit down on a plump lip, kneading until she tasted blood. She whistled under her breath – no, she hummed, the song "Daydream Believer" an old favorite of hers.

It was something I'd always loved to do. I adored picturing other people in the same situations I lived. It was much easier to draw from my own experiences and feelings to create something spectacular, and it soothed any worries I had about my own life because sometimes I could pretend it wasn't my life, it was someone else's.

So it wasn't me who was waiting for Derek. It was Kelsey. It wasn't me who worried about trivial things, like when Derek would like me – it was Kelsey who felt that longing and confusion. It wasn't me who was noticing the sun sinking lower along with my spirits – that was Kelsey, too.

I crunched a leaf between my fingers, wanting to leave but knowing I couldn't. Derek was waiting for the moment when I left, but he needed to talk. Or maybe I kind of needed it.

Something nudged my back. I stifled a screech and turned, falling a bit but catching myself on the large wolf behind me. Derek let out an exasperated snort and steadied me. The look in his eyes was easy to interpret.

Very smooth, He seemed to say, if that was a real attacker, what would you do?

"Derek," I gasped, trying to catch my breath. "You startled me, that's all. Stupid padded feet."

He looked at me solemnly. Any sort of good humor was gone, and now he just regarded me like he wanted me gone. I wasn't leaving. I told him as much.

He nudged me again. His muzzle pointed in the direction that must have led to the house. I shrugged, and said, "I'm lost. I don't think I can get back on my own. Looks like you're stuck with me, unless you're ready to go back?"

He stared at me.

"Don't. I know you won't let me go back. Like I said, you're stuck with me."

Derek growled, the sound natural and familiar. Surprised, I laughed. "It's just," I explained when he glared at me, "you sound like you. You know, human you."

"I know," I murmured, "I shouldn't be laughing when we're all so sad."

This time, Derek whimpered. His bright, beautiful eyes turned soulful and the term "puppy-dog eyes" took on a whole new meaning for me. Something in me tugged and wrenched.

I stretched out a hand and placed my fingers behind his ears. I stroked the soft fur on his skull. It took a moment, but slowly, he relaxed. His wolf legs bent and he was laying next to me, his head in my lap. I continued petting him, the action soothing us both.

"It's okay to be upset. You should be, but it's not good for you to—to act like this. You have to still be you, just a you in pain."

He didn't give any indication that he understood. I sighed. "Look," I said, "I know that doesn't make sense, but Derek we need to talk."

Derek stiffened underneath my hand. I leaned over him and wrapped my arms around his warm body. I buried my head in the spot where his head met his neck, and I was amazed at how the spot was so perfectly in reach, just like his human form.

I could feel a tear trickling out of my eye. My voice was muffled, but I managed to get out, "I'm so sorry about him. I am so, so sorry."

He shifted, and I leaned away, ready to apologize again when he nuzzled my cheek. The action was so natural and tender. I caught the side of his face. I kissed what would have been his cheek if he were a human.

I wasn't a bold person. In fact, I was very meek. But somehow, I found Derek as a gigantic wolf much less intimidating than him as a human.

He wasn't ready to be with me. That was fine, but right then, he needed me. I ran my fingers along his jaw, sighing softly.

He shuddered. Derek turned away to look at me, an accusing warning. He glanced in another direction, then back at me. He moved away, eyes still on me.

"I won't move."

He nodded. Then, he ran away, an impossibly fast blur of motion.

He was hurting, and it hurt me to see him so sad. His dad died. I knew what it was like, losing a parent, and I had moved on. I still missed my mom, but I was okay, and now I had to make sure Derek would someday be alright.

"You shouldn't be out here," He rumbled a moment later. Derek settled near me, his arm brushing up against me.

I shrugged. I knew we should be on other topics, but I let him go with what was comfortable for him. "You're here. I'm safe."

"My dad wasn't safe."

His grief was palpable. I touched his hand, and when he didn't move, I wrapped my short fingers around his long ones. I squeezed gently and said, "It wasn't your fault."

"I should have been there!"

"You were with me, Derek."

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter where I was, I should have been there."

"You were watching out for me," I protested, not for my sake, but for his, though what he said did hurt. "You were keeping me safe."

"But I wasn't keeping him safe."

I snatched my hand back and twiddled my thumbs. "Fine, then look at this way: you were doing what he wanted you to do. You were looking for me so you could use me to bring down the Edison Group, which is your goal now, right?"

"It is the goal, it always was, but I shouldn't have been with you I should have been with him! You don't matter with him gone, he's my – was my dad."

I flinched. I could feel a hot flush spreading throughout my body, and one thought passed through my mind: But what if I was gone? Would you even care?

"Since I don't matter that much," I said softly, "as a necromancer or as a person, maybe you're right. Maybe you should have been with your dad."

Guilt and understanding darkened his face, but I ignored him saying my name. "But it's done, now. Derek, it's done. There's nothing you can do about the fact that he's gone! He would want you doing everything you can to get through the pain and stop anyone else from hurting like this. He'd want you to bring down the Edison Group. He wouldn't want you to be moping, he'd want you to be-to be proactive."

Nothing was said by either of us, and I refused to think about what he said. I couldn't think about it because it was stupid to be so offended by something like that when I was dealing with someone who lost a parent.

"We will bring them down," He vowed, "we will. I'll die before I let them get away with what they did."

"Stay on task," I urged. "It's good that you still have ambition. When my mom died, I just shut down for awhile. I didn't eat unless someone spoon-fed me. I just slept all day, or doodled movie scenes about dead parents."

Derek didn't know what to say. I recognized the look a lot, that pensive, "how am I supposed to react to that" glance I got tossed my way whenever I mentioned my mother. Eventually, he told me, "I'm sorry she hurt you."

"She didn't hurt me! She died. The drunk driver hurt me."

His jaw set. "She died and it changed you. You're over it now, or as over it as you can be, but I know I'll never be the same because this sucks to bad, and I know you haven't been the same since it happened. She did hurt you because you got close to her. And I'm sorry for that."

"I'm not. I'm glad I loved my mom. She was worth my love. I'd rather lose a mom I could be proud of than have someone like Tori's mother in my life."

The idea of the crazy woman being my mom caused me to shudder. She was an awful person whereas my mother was always kind and gentle. I was honored to say I had a deceased, beautiful mother than an alive, insane one.

I traced a line in the grass by my leg. I drew a star then a heart. The grass bent beneath my fingertips before springing up again, ready for more pictures to be drawn. "You know," I said, "it gets easier. It never really gets better, but it gets easier."

"Forgive me, but I find that hard to believe."

"I understand."

"Chloe?"

"Yes?"

He hesitated. Finally, he murmured, "Sorry."

"You said that."

"Not for that."

"Then for what?"

Derek leaned against me, and I in turn leaned against him. "You are important to me. I just… didn't know what I was saying."

I smiled up at him. He looked so concerned, I couldn't hold in a small laugh. "We both know you're not the best with words, Derek."

"Yeah," He said, a mixture of relief and bashfulness. "And thanks."

"For?"

"Talking to me about this. I know a lot of people wouldn't have bothered," He didn't say it begrudgingly, just like it was a fact.

That made me sad. If he really thought people didn't care about him and that was okay, it was a problem with me. "A lot of people should bother."

"Whatever you say. Wanna go make some hot chocolate?"

I couldn't be sure if he was changing the subject or not, but something as mundane as making hot chocolate sounded nice. Plus, we had to make sure Andrew didn't suspect anything from us.

Standing, I brushed the seat of my jeans. "That sounds great."

(A/N) It has been forever. For what it's worth, I've started school and volunteering so I have to divide my writing time carefully and this kind of fell on the wayside. My apologies.