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Derek left an exhausted Boyd back at his place and climbed into the car, wincing slightly when one of the lacerations pulled across his back.
"You look a mess," Cora told him, like nothing had happened, like she hadn't just tried to kill him and his pack and any innocent bystanders between them, like she hadn't been gone for nine years, like she hadn't grown up and almost like they were still a family.
Derek humphed and pulled away from the curb. "Should see yourself," he told her and almost smiled.
They rode the rest of the way home in silence.
He never thought twice about showing her where he lived, about letting her in. "You should get some rest," he said, pulling two clean shirts from the pile he'd been burning through at an alarming rate and indicating his bed. Well, indicating his mattress on the floor.
The scrapes along his face and chest had knitted themselves together by the time he rinsed off and came back out. Cora was still standing with dead leaves and crusted blood in her hair, the clean shirt in her hands. There were smudges across it, where she had pressed it to her face and lowered it again.
"Are we going to talk about this?" she asked.
"I have others, and I don't mind taking the couch."
"Not the sleeping arrangements."
"Oh. I thought—"
"I haven't seen you in nine years. Not since you had pimples and big ears and wore a Giants cap to school every day."
Derek had forgotten about the cap. "I just thought maybe in the morning—"
"It is morning." She sighed. "So this is where you live?"
He looked around the wide, bare walls and high ceilings of the loft. "For now. I guess."
"Have you been here the whole time?"
"No."
"Where were you, you and Laura. Where did you go after the fire?"
He wasn't entirely sure whether it was a question or an accusation, but thinking about it brought back memories of sirens and smells of smoke and parades of adults who thought they knew best- until Laura shoved him on his first ever airplane and they got the hell out of Dodge.
"Places," he said. "New York." He didn't really want to think about that. "She's dead," he added.
"I saw." Cora swallowed, voice tight. She'd cried for her sister a long time ago and now there were no more tears. She sat down heavily on the mattress. "Don't you want to know where I've been?"
Honestly, he wasn't sure. He shrugged, then nodded because it seemed like the right thing to do.
"Portland." She moved over, and he sat beside her on the bed, like they used to, when her legs hung over the side and couldn't touch the floor, and they'd play to see who could count the most stars out the bedroom window.
She curled up and put her head in his lap. For a second Derek had a heady feeling, wolf or brother or pack leader, it thrummed through him. He tentatively removed a dead bit of twig from her hair and said a silent thanks to Scott for coming up with a plan that didn't involve killing her. He leaned back against the wall.
"We thought you were dead," he said quietly.
"Everyone did. I did. I'm not sure the doctor who declared it ever forgave herself after I woke up."
"What happened?" This time, he was genuinely curious.
She shrugged against his leg and mumbled, "I was eleven years old, half-dead on an ME's table, and had lost all my family. By the time I got out of there, you and Laura had disappeared. I guess she learned Dad's lessons too well, because no one could find the two of you. Ended up in the system. Foster parents. Like I said, the doc who declared me dead felt guilty—she looked out for me when she could. I looked out for any word from you. Last year was the first I heard." She trailed off. "I worked my way south. They found me."
"You didn't have a pack? All that time?"
She shrugged again. "I do now."
Derek felt like he was sixteen again, confused and wishing he'd been in the fire with the rest of them. But Cora deserved better. "Laura left almost as soon as—after we'd identified the bodies. Was afraid the hunters would come after us, too. She found an old emergency stash of Dad's and got us on a plane. Figured New York was about as far as we could get from here, at least without passports. Easy to lose two kids in a city like that."
"They always said she'd make a good Alpha."
Derek only nodded. Remembering Laura, he felt all the more fool for the things he'd done since.
Cora closed a small hand around his arm. "You will, too." Sunlight poured through the window and she yawned loudly. "You'll let me stay?"
"As long as you want."
"Uncle Peter doesn't trust me."
Derek wondered how she could know that; Peter hadn't even been at the loft when she arrived. But it was a question for another day. For now, they needed rest. They needed to regroup. "Go to sleep." He told her, and it might have held the whisper of command because she curled up at his side and was soon breathing soft and evenly.
Derek lay beside her, remembering the scent of family, and soon he drifted off as well.