the secret of distance

Chapter 13

Notes:

"In the end, that was the choice you made, and it doesn't matter how hard it was to make it. It matters that you did."

—Cassandra Clare

Hope wakes up in the middle of the afternoon, feeling like she's had the best sleep she's ever gotten in a long time. She stretches her limbs out lazily, sitting up and swinging her legs over the bed. Her muscles are sore, particularly the ones in her neck, but she doesn't find herself minding much. She takes a quick, hot shower, allowing the water to run into her hair and ease her aching bones.

The air in her lungs feels fresher than they have in days, and her ribs aren't throbbing like they usually are underneath the weight of a distant heart.

She feels good.

But her room is a mess. And that won't do for when Josie comes over. She can't have her soulmate thinking she lives in a dumpster, or something.

After her shower, she makes her bed as well as she possibly can—which is decidedly, not very well—and picks up all the clothes off the floor. She hangs the clean ones up and throws the dirty stuff into a laundry hamper, and organizes her desk and dresser. She even cleans up the bathroom, making sure she has towels and soap in there.

She does all of this with too much energy, feeling too jumpy. The werewolf suppressants Alaric and Dorian gave her have worn off by now, and she's left with shifty eyes and a heart beating too fast for its own sake. She doesn't have time to go out and change now, though. She doesn't want to have to take another shower, and she definitely doesn't want Josie to get worried.

It doesn't matter that she feels the call to change like a hungry whisper right in her ear. It doesn't matter, because Josie will be coming over in a couple of hours, and she can control herself until at least then.

Around two o'clock, she hears a knock on the door. Her ears are sharp enough that she immediately knows it's not Josie. Class also hasn't ended yet, so that wouldn't make sense, but a girl can hope.

The tribrid can't see through the door, but she's guessing the person standing outside is Alaric based on his harsh breathing pattern. He always breathes like he's upset about something when it comes to her.

She thinks for a small, nervous moment that she's done something wrong, or that she's in trouble, or that he's about to give her the whole "you're-trying-to-date-my-daughter" talk. She shakes herself out of her worrying apprehension and stands up.

She swings the door open, and deadpans, "Hey, Doctor Saltzman."

The man opens his mouth to say something before closing it and looking around the room.

"Hmm, did you remodel?" he asks, and she scowls.

"No, I just cleaned up," Hope tells him, frown growing deeper. Alaric raises his eyebrows like that's the biggest surprise of his life.

"Wow, looks like a totally different room," he comments, still extending his head to get a glimpse through the door. Her fingers itch to shut it close.

"My room wasn't that bad," she says, still frowning, and he laughs.

"It was filthy, Hope."

"Okay, whatever." She rolls her eyes, annoyed. "I'm guessing you didn't come over here to check up on me."

It's brutal, but it's the truth. Hope Mikaelson—the all-powerful tribrid—does not get checked up on. She gets injured, she recovers. She gets knocked down, she gets back up. She does not receive any extra help. Her mandated therapy sessions with Emma Tig are only something Alaric assigns her to make himself feel better about everything she's gone through.