Isaac and Chris had been in London for nearly three months, moving from one city to the next, exploring a world that Isaac thought he might never be involved of. That of hunters, of the history of hunting wherein the Argent family first began so many years before. After three months though Chris' head was clearer, his mind was sharper, and he had ever desire to get back to the States and to the hunt.

Isaac had no desire to go back. Not to the back. Not to a world wherein Allison was gone, and who knew who might be next to die. Maybe one day he'd been ready for that but that time was not now. He saw Chris off at the airport, heading to his own gate and going from Paris back to London.

He'd been in London for a few weeks, wandering from one club to another. Partying. Drinking. Getting into fights. It wasn't a healthy way to handle his grief but then it wasn't as if Isaac was known for making the smartest, safest decisions.

Which was why he was stumbling out of the club that night, practically falling into another guy on the street. His hands clutched at Jackson, not quite looking up to his face yet.

"I'm sorry, Han..."

The words died as he lifted his head, seeing familiar eyes, sharp cheekbones and a well known face.

"Jackson?!"