#i have a headache. at least derek was confirmed to be a good dad and his face card has held up

[lesbiradshaw]

anyways. feel free to be unhappy with the fact that liam has a new gf in the movie and definitely feel free to make criticisms about how the tw writers roped in a no name asian actress to be kira’s thinly veiled replacement since they refused to pay arden right and think all asians are #interchangeable despite profiting greatly off our cultures but just remember being racist towards an actress or character (who you havent even seen on screen yet) under the guise of being supposedly anti racist makes you a weird pathetic freak loser and it doesn’t count as helpful commentary. 💓

[angst-fairygodmother]

Big News  ~ An Idiot (Affectionate) Story

A.K.A. part 2 of “Where do babies come from?”

A/N: While this is technically a continuation of Late Night either fic can be read alone. And I hope you enjoy! Word Count: 1365 Rating: T Content Warnings: pregnancy, fear of illness, a lot of crying

Ryne shifted anxiously on the exam table, grimacing at the sound of the paper crinkling beneath her, her hands twisted in her lap. She wished that the doctor would come in soon, and that she would stay out forever. 

She was scared, even if she didn't tell Derek just how much when he'd asked that morning if she was okay. She had been too young to know what was going on when she'd lost her mother, but she remembered her being tired and in pain and then gone. So when she made the appointment, she was fully braced for the doctor to tell her the fatigue and headaches were a sign of something serious, that drastic steps had to be taken or her days were numbered. (She attributed the cramps to her fear and the other aches and pains to something in her head.)

It wasn't fair. They'd barely been married a year. She wasn't yet thirty. There were so many dreams and plans ahead of her. After everything they'd been through, the idea of breaking this news to Derek made her feel like she was going to be sick.

The doctor came in. Ryne tried to calm her racing emotions as she explained everything. The doctor nodded sagely and started drawing up an order for bloodwork.

“Now, Kathryn,” the doctor said as she typed, and Ryne suppressed a roll of her eyes at the use of her full name, “you got married about a year ago, is that correct?”

Ryne did the math quickly in her head. “Yeah. A little less than that. Why?”

“And do you and your husband have a...busy marital bed?”

“Are you asking if I have sex with my husband?”

“I don't want to presume what kind of relationship the two of you have, but yes, that is my question.”

“Yeah. We're...I mean we do...pretty regularly…” she found herself tripping over her words suddenly, face growing warm.

“Do you use any methods of birth control?”

“I'm on the pill, but that's it. It's not like either of us has to worry about STIs or anything, we have no other partners.”

“Ah. I'd like to add one more test to the bloodwork then. It'll still take at least a few hours, so we'll call you tomorrow with the results.”

“Tomorrow? What's so serious it has that short a turnaround?” She asked nervously. 

“I don't want to jump to any conclusions, but based on what you've described today, I think you might be pregnant.”

“I...oh.”

Her mind struggled to wrap around the doctor's words. That would be a very different kind of news to break. Her heart skipped a beat. Would he be excited? Nervous? Scared enough to run away?

~

Ryne chewed nervously on her lower lip. It had taken all her willpower not to call her husband immediately when the doctor had confirmed the suspicions shared the day before. But this was news best delivered in person, if only to be able to see Derek's face. 

She thought she might burst by the time he walked through the door that evening. She struggled to maintain her composure, greeting him with a smile and letting him catch her around the waist for a kiss as he passed her in the kitchen.

“Hey baby girl,” he drawled, nuzzling into the side of her neck. “How're you feelin?”

“I'm fine,” she answered maybe too quickly, laying her smaller arms over his. “Today's been good.”

“Really? Cus this morning you seemed pretty sick...you didn't even drink your coffee…”

She could hear the concern in his tone and bit her lip again. 

“Plus you're still kinda pale and look tired. Not that I'm tryin t' insult you or nothin but…”

“I'm not insulted, Derek. You know how much I appreciate you looking out for me. But I promise I'm okay.”  

She fell silent for a long while, just leaning into his touch. She liked this, the casual little moments together, and wanted to savor them while they could. 

“I heard back from the doctor about some of the tests she ran,” she said finally, regretting that she had to break their stillness.

“That was quick,” he hesitated. “Are you...how bad is it? Is it bad? Whatever you need, whatever we gotta do baby, you know I'll take care of you.”

His arms tightened around her waist, a castle against whatever dangers she faced. A sense of calm washed over her then, and she twisted around to face him.

“That depends,” she said, her fingers dancing briefly over the scar on his temple. She met his eyes, finding warmth and love and dedication there, the kind that said he would be on her side through anything. “How do you feel about it not just being the two of us?”

“You mean like a nurse in the house or somethin?”

She giggled, burying her face into his shoulder and unable to stop now that she had started. 

“No, you goof,” she managed eventually. “I don't need a live-in nurse. I mean a baby.”

Derek's face scrunched in a frown of confusion that made her heart flutter. When he remained silent for several long, agonizing minutes, Ryne spoke his name softly, a question. 

“Really?” he asked, the whisper lower than anything she'd ever heard from him before, full of hope and fear in equal measures.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling at him and reaching up to wipe at the tears building in the corners of his eyes. “Really.”

“You're gonna have my baby?”

“Well it's not the second coming of Jesus so it had better be yours. Otherwise there's some weird shit going on.”

“For real?”

“Oh my god Derek,” she laughed. “Yes. For real. Not a joke, not a dream, high nineties percent accurate test. We're going to be parents.” 

The grin that split across his face was dazzling as he whooped and lifted her off her feet, spinning her in an excited circle. 

“I'm gonna be a Dad,” he cheered and laughed before setting her down and repeating the sentence in a subdued and stunned tone. “I guess I should stop calling you baby girl now huh?”

Now it was her turn to frown, puzzled. 

“We don't know yet, it might be a daughter in there, and I can't have two baby girls can I? That'd be cheatin.”

She laughed again, rolling her eyes at her husband's logic. “And if we ever have more than one daughter? What will you do then?”

He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, face drawn in careful consideration. Ryne watched the emotions travel across his eyes: the excitement and wonder, the fear, the love. And then suddenly he was ducking down to bury his face in the crook of her neck. Her hands traced soothing patterns wherever they could while she held him, carefully guiding them both through the apartment to the couch without letting go. By the time they were seated, both their faces were wet with tears. 

“I can’t believe this is real…” Derek breathed.

“In a good way, right?” Ryne asked, stomach twisting with nerves, his rollercoaster emotions leaving her scared that he’d settle on ‘abandon ship and run away.’

“Is that a real question? Of course in a good way. In the best way. You’re having my baby. I get to be a Dad. And then you were talkin about maybe more in the future and I just...I love you so much baby girl, and I’m gonna love this kid and you and them are gonna be my whole world.”

His words sparked something in her, the realization that she was really going to be a mom and be able to raise a little life and give them everything she never had, and she had her best friend and partner in crime by her side to do it, and she let out a sob as she threw her arms around his neck. Their lips were salty and wet as they met in their passionate, overjoyed embrace, but neither seemed to care.

“I love you Derek,” she murmured against him.

“Not nearly as much as I love you.”

[sierraraeck]

Why Men Suck

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Reid has to talk to Aundreya about what’s happened and try to explain himself. Aundreya has an unexpected visitor in a high stress situation. Story eleven.

Category: Angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Shots fired. Very quick mention of suicide. Implied abusive relationship.

Word Count: 3.4k

I walked into the office with a whole new demeanor. A whole new attitude. A whole new level of confidence.

I was a whole new person.

I wasn’t exactly the old street and prison me, but that was a lot closer than the pathetic, emotional version who’d possessed my body for the last year and a half.

I walked in with a new fire in my eyes, a new growl in my voice, a new ice block in my chest. I walked in like I owned the place. And everyone could feel it.

“Hey, Aundreya,” Prentiss said, a little hesitation coating her voice.

“Hey,” I said, “Do we have a case?”

“I believe so. Hotch said he wants us in the briefing room in five,” she replied.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” I was in the hallway approaching a small table with snacks on it when he caught my attention. I was wondering when this would happen.

“Aundreya, wait,” Reid called after me.

I turned on him. “Why? What could you possibly say to me right now?”

He let out a huge breath. “Is this about what Morgan and I talked about on the jet?”

I put my hands out and cocked my head to the side, letting him know that was exactly what this was about.

“She’s just someone that I’m talking to for my headaches, and I knew she could help with the case.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

“We both know you are. Why would you need to call her on a payphone, then? Why would you need Tara to drive you there instead of me or Derek? Why have you been so secretive about who she is?”

“It’s because I just wanted to keep one thing-”

“Personal?” I finished, raising my eyebrows.

“That’s not what I mean,” he huffed.

“I think that’s exactly what you mean. And she must be pretty special if even the possibility of her getting hurt is worth risking both of our lives.” I started to turn away, heading back down the hallway.

“I didn’t-”

“Yes. You did. Last time I checked, you didn’t know for sure if that was even where she lived, yet you were willing to get shot and put me in the line of fire for her.”

“Aundreya, please,” he pleaded for me to let him explain, but there was nothing to explain.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve made what you want pretty clear,” I stood there staring into his sad eyes. I wanted to walk away so badly, but I just had to ask, “I just have one question for you. Did you call her that night?”

“What?”

I already knew he called her throughout those two weeks, and I realized that he even called her the night before we returned to work when I was freaking out about where he was. But I wanted to know if he called her right after we…

I swallowed. “That night. Did. You. Call her?”

He looked me dead in the eyes and responded, “No.”

It didn’t make it hurt any less, but at least he didn’t add insult to injury. I’d gotten my answer, so I pushed by him, heading back to the round table room, suddenly having lost my appetite. I didn’t even reach the steps before a loud bang echoed off the ceiling.

I whipped my head around and saw Reid in a choke hold, a man holding a gun to his head. But that wasn’t just any man.

That was my father.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

All of the desk workers who weren’t armed were clumped together near the coffee maker or were ducking under their desks. Anyone who was armed had their weapon drawn and aimed at my father. Our team members were all standing behind the railing to my right in a line, each one panicked and furious, guns trained on the man who held Reid.

He scanned the room until his eyes landed on me. A smile spread across his face and he said, “Hello, Aundreya,” he sneered, letting me know he knew about my name change.

“Hello, Joe,” I returned.

“What? Come on, no ‘hi dad?’” he fake-whimpered.

I scoffed. “We may be biologically related, but you are not my dad.”

“Ouch,” he smiled.

“Yeah, well the truth hurts,” I said, raising my eyebrows. That was what he always loved to tell my sister and I whenever he was trying to manipulate us into believing his lies.

He laughed. “Well it looks like I did teach you something after all.”

My emotions were on a whole new high. Everything seemed to be crashing around me, and one of the only honest connections I thought I’d made had just shattered. I was sick and tired of letting other people affect my emotions and the constant lies that people told and truths they deliberately withheld. “Yeah, you taught me that loving someone meant manipulating them and lying to them and degrading them and the ones they love. You taught me how to mimic those behaviors for my own personal gain. And you did a great job teaching me that I can’t trust men and that they can’t treat me right, especially in relationships,” I offered, my voice strong.

“Honey, that is not at all what I taught you.”

I wanted to vomit at his term of endearment. “Great, then I guess it’s your borderline personality and narcissistic genes that got passed down that made me this way. My bad.”

He shook his head in disbelief, that same smug look absorbing his features, but changed the subject. “So you’re in the FBI now, huh?”

“Sure am. I enjoy putting evil men away, envisioning that they’re you I finally get to put handcuffs on. Who knows? Maybe you coming here will finally satisfy that desire,” I said with a smirk, holding my gun up a little higher.

“Oh really? How are you going to do that? I mean, I guess you could, depending on how much you care about him,” he said, gesturing toward Reid with the gun still trained at his temple.

“Oh, him? Yeah, I don’t really know him,” I said. At the moment, that statement felt true.

“Are you sure? I thought I saw you two spending quite a lot of time together recently,” he said.

My eyes got wide. “You’ve been stalking me?”

“I have to say, you are quite a hard person to track down these days. I just wanted to make sure it was actually you. I’ve wanted to see you, talk to you, but I knew you’d never respond to me directly.”

“I can’t imagine why that would be,” I snapped.

“I just want to know that you’re doing well.”

“How considerate. Well I’m great, so you can leave now.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you all are just going to let me walk out of here,” he said. He turned his attention to the rest of the team. “So this must be the BAU?”

“Yep,” I said, popping the ‘p’, “Your point?”

“Are they really as great as I’ve heard?”

“We do close a lot of cases.”

“But are they good people?”

“Yes, they’re in the FBI. What are you getting at?” I’d had nearly every possible argument with this man, so I always had a good idea where things were going. But this? This confused me.

“Do you all really consider each other family?”

Then I got it. If he was trying to inflict the maximum amount of pain on me, he would want to know who I cared most about so he could hurt them.

“Not really. We just work together,” I stated. I didn’t want to add any more than I had to, especially if I was reading the situation wrong and he wanted to hurt people he thought were hurting me. By taking Reid as his hostage, I couldn’t tell which one was true.

“But what about this one?” he said, peering down at Reid.

“What about him?”

“You don’t consider this one family?”

“I just told you, even if I’ve been talking to him more recently, I still barely know him.”

“Uh-huh. So you wouldn’t mind if I just killed him, then?” he asked.

My heart was pounding. I knew that he was most likely trying to inflict maximum pain on me, so showing that I did care about him could be lethal, but I didn’t want to say yes and have him obey my wishes. The one time he would.

I took a deep breath, knowing if I hesitated any longer, he’d know my answer. “No. Not really. I mean, I don’t think you should kill anyone, newsflash it’s my job to make sure people stay alive, but if your question is if I have a personal sway one way or the other, the answer is no. He’s not as important to me as some of the others.”

Reid made eye contact with me, and the look of hurt in his eyes was devastating. He actually believed me. He genuinely thought that because I was mad, I would just flip that criminal switch and want him dead. I didn’t really know how to take that and I couldn’t think about it now. I had to stay focused. At least I had confirmation I was doing a good job being convincing.

But of all the things I thought I knew about shooters, about hostage situations, about my father, I did not anticipate his next move.

Joe approached me, shifting his aim from Reid, who was still in a chokehold, onto me. I stood my ground, refusing to cower under his advance. He tossed Reid like a rag doll in front of me, and without blinking, stepped around behind me. I felt the barrel of the gun swipe some hair out of the way, then come to rest on the back of my head as he commanded Reid to his knees.

This was going to be an execution.

“So you don’t think I, or anyone else, should be killing people? But what about you, daughter?”

I swallowed, vaguely aware of how he was using me as a human shield, not a single person behind him who could get a shot off. This one was on me.

“Those days are over,” I casually noted.

“Which days are you referring to? The killing days or the more recent scheming days?” he asked.

How much does he know? He couldn’t know about … That’s impossible. No one knows about that.

“Both.”

He laughed. “I guess we’ll see about that, ‘cause I don’t think you are getting out of this without having to tap back into those skills.”

“What do you want?” I asked, enunciating each word carefully.

“I want you to kill him.”

I refused to look down at Reid up until that point, but after that, I had to. I looked down at him looking up at me, his expression clearly wondering what I was going to do.

I may be angry and upset, but I would never do something like this to you, Reid. I willed him to read my mind.

“What?” I was still processing his request.

“You heard me. You kill him, and the rest of us walk out of here.”

I shook my head and right as I did, he pushed the barrel farther into my skull.

I knew I couldn’t turn around and shoot Joe: he would be able to shoot me much faster and would probably shoot Reid as well before the team could kill him. I knew I couldn’t kill Reid. That was just a given.

But there were three people in this equation, leaving me with one last variable to manipulate.

I turned the gun on myself.

I contemplated just dropping it all together, but I figured that would result in the first outcome I’d envisioned. But threatening to take away the person he wanted to hurt or force back into old habits, taking the common denominator away, I knew that would foil all of his plans. And I’m known for self preservation not being suicidal, so it would be a scenario he would have never considered.

“No.”

“What are you doing?” I could hear the slight panic in Joe’s voice, the same feeling reflected in Reid’s eyes.

“I said no. I told you, those days are over for me. If you want to hurt me, then you should know that the person I care the most about, above all else, is myself. What would you do if I decided to ultimately protect myself from you once and for all?” I asked. When I got no response, I concluded with, “So take me. I’m who you’re here for, right? So just take what you came for.”

“You seriously mean that?” he asked with a glimmer of hope.

“I’m not one to play games.”

He grabbed me by the arm and demanded I drop my gun, pressing his own to my temple. I did as he said, all but placing the gun in Reid’s hands, giving him one last look that tried to convey as much hope as I could without just winking at him.

I continued to walk slowly, Joe still using me as a human shield, on our path to the exit. He reached the glass doors and turned around, about to push through with his back. But I knew something he didn’t. Those doors were deceivingly heavy.

I used the back of my head to jam his nose into his skull, simultaneously ramming his head into the glass doors. They budged, but not enough to knock us both completely off balance. I cranked my body out of his grap, and turned around to face him, hitting him hard enough to disarm him. The shock of my blows gave me the upper hand as I reached for his weapon, claiming it as my own. I now stood in front of him, the tables having drastically turned.

“FBI. Put your hands up,” I said smugly. He wore an expression of pure rage which only increased the pleasure I got from this moment. “Joe Spade, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of multiple FBI agents.”

He put his hands up and I tossed his gun aside, quick to replace it with handcuffs. “It looks like I was able to not only get out of this situation without having to kill anybody, but also fulfill my fantasies of handcuffing you after all.”

I brought his hands down behind his back and tightened the cuffs as much as possible. I walked him forward a few paces so he could really get a good look at my team members.

“You see those people up there behind that railing? Those people are my family. They actually look out for me, and I will always look out for them. Those ladies over there? They are like my sisters, compassionate people I aspire to be like. And those men? They’ve taught me that good men and healthy relationships do exist. All of them have helped me overcome my trust issues and anxiety when it comes to opening up and letting people in. They’ve shown me what love truly looks and sounds like, and I’ve started to learn how to reciprocate. And you know what? They are the reason that I didn’t kill you,” I snarled, letting him, and the rest of the team, digest that. “Take a good, long, look. Because they are the only reason you are alive right now.”

I made him stand there for a few seconds, marinating in that information, before yanking him towards the door, handing him off to the officers that were to escort him down to a squad car.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

“Ohmygod! Are you okay?” Penelope squawked as she rushed toward me.

I couldn’t even get a response out before her lung-squishing hug surrounded me. I hugged her back but quickly answered, “Yes. I’m all good.”

“Are you sure? That was … I mean that was-”

“I know. And I’m okay,” I said with a reassuring smile.

“Did you mean all of that?” she asked me with hopeful, gleaming eyes.

“Yeah,” I replied, but I could tell that Rossi heard my uncertain undertone. For the most part.

“What was that?” Rossi interjected, stern but concerned. “You put yourself in harm's way and made a reckless, stupid, decision.”

Yeah because focusing on myself up to this point has worked out so well for me. I decided I’d try something new, and look at that, not giving a damn about my safety worked out for all of us.

I kept those thoughts to myself and opted for, “It worked out. I’m fine.”

“What's happened to you? You went from yelling at a guy who reminded you of your father to not even being phased by your own. Not to mention he was holding a gun on you,” Morgan acknowledged. I knew what he was getting at, all of them noticing my change in attitude this morning before all of the madness that followed.

“Well, shit happens. Things change,” I stated coldly. I saw Reid cringe from behind the rest of the group.

“And I guess so do people,” Rossi said pointedly.

“Yeah,” I finally looked at Reid, skimming my eyes up and down him, “They do.”

A moment of awkward silence passed over the group before Hotch said, “Let’s all take the rest of the day off. We’ll start on our new case tomorrow.”

The group agreed and each gave me their varied versions of condolences and then turned to check on Reid. Most of the rest of the bullpen had already left, receiving the same deal Aaron gave us, and our team started slowly breaking apart so they could grab their stuff. Soon, that just left Reid and I standing there. I went to walk by him on my way to get my stuff when he stopped me.

“Aundreya, wait,” he squeaked.

I turned to face him, waiting to see what followed.

“I know it doesn’t make this any better but I am sorry. I never intended for this to happen.”

“I believe you, but the damage has been done.”

“I know. I just … I don’t know-”

“Look Reid. Everything I said was true. I let my guard down, I let you in. I trusted you, which went against every instinct in my body telling me to run. For the first time in my entire life, I felt like I could breathe. Like I could actually breathe. Do you know what that feels like? For my whole life, I have been suffocating under the weight of my father, the Slaughterer, the streets, just waiting for the next bad thing to happen. I never knew what it felt like to just be okay and to feel safe. Until I met you. I had just started to break down my barriers, my entire belief system, because I started to understand that I was wrong, that not everyone is out for themselves, just manipulating me for their own personal gain then tossing me aside like garbage. I mean, you just met the one and only male role model in my life! That’s what I thought everyone, specifically men, were like! And just when you started to prove me wrong… I’ve tumbled all the way back down to square one. So was what you did world-ending? No. Is that the worst thing that could have happened, that you could have done? Definitely not. Our job proves that every day. But it felt pretty massive to me,” I ranted.

I didn’t mean to raise my voice or draw attention to the situation, but those thoughts had been playing an intense game of Pong inside my head for a while, and I just had to get them off my chest. It was Hotch and Prentiss that were straggling, and while they were out of earshot, they weren’t blind.

I let out a nervous laugh, absorbing the irony of the whole thing. “And you told me you would never hurt me,” I shook my head in disbelief, “Look at us now.”

I reached around him to grab my stuff and barreled toward the door without another breath.

It wasn’t fair of me and I knew that. We fucked and maybe that was it. It’s not like we were together and he was cheating on me or something. We actually had never even talked about what we were, and now, maybe we never would. I guess I would just have to accept that the whole thing, all the lead up and shit, was just a fling. A harmless, nothing-to-get-your-panties-in-a-wad-over, fling. So maybe I did dish out too much, and he didn’t really deserve all that, but I couldn’t worry about it now. I’d said it, and it made me feel better to say it, and I wanted him to know how much it hurt. Sure, he’d just had a gun to his head thanks to my father but so had I, and there really is no better time to get emotional than after a shared trauma.

I got home and laid on my couch, recounting the events of the day.

He mentioned my scheming. He couldn’t know, could he? But he seemed like he might’ve…

That would be yet another fun excuse to recount to the team, if they even remembered or felt courageous enough to ask.

But for the time being, I curled up on my couch, queueing up the series finale of ‘Sherlock.’

Taglist (open)

@justanothetfangirl

@kris-stuff

@wooya1224

[my-random-ocs]

Chapter 10: Co-Captain

Pairing: Stiles x OC (eventually)

Warnings: Language, minor car accident

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Stiles and I are out of the Jeep as soon as he puts it in park and sprinting toward the school. It’s after the game, so the first place we check is the locker room.

We see Scott sitting on the bench in the back, holding the back of his neck. My brain doesn’t take in the situation before I burst out, “Dude, we have a huge problem.”

We stop walking as Scott says, “Trust me - I know.”

So, apparently we’re sort of screwed.

I mean, what else is new, right?

According to Scott, Derek and Peter paid him a little visit after the game. As if Derek and Peter together wasn’t a horrible enough thought, Peter did some weird-ass acupuncture on Scott’s neck. I try not to think how cool werewolf powers are, because the whole situation is awful, but apparently an alpha’s claws can take and show memories.

Peter showed Scott his memories of the Hale house fire, the pain and the years of healing, feeling trapped. He showed Scott all the people he’s killed since healing, starting with Laura, his own niece. Since Laura was the alpha, killing her healed Peter completely.

Which, like, cool motive- still murder.

____________

As much as I like having more than one friend- and having those friends be girls- it’s super weird. Like this morning, when I was supposed to go shopping for Winter Formal dresses with Lydia and Allison. We didn’t go straight to the mall. Instead, Allison drove us to the preserve, where Allison produced a duffel bag from her car and led us deep into the woods.

Just as confused as I am, Lydia complains, “Allison, when you said you needed to stop for an errand before we went shopping- a five mile hike in the woods was not what I was expecting.”

“Is this where you kill us and bury our chopped up pieces?” I ask, laughing uneasily, still confused as to what Allison is thinking.

Ally doesn’t answer either of our questions, and instead addresses Lydia, not even turning around. “Lydia, before I forget, I wanted to ask if you're okay with something. Jackson asked me to the Winter Formal."

Lydia, surprised, asks, “Did he?”

I tense, feeling the awkwardness already growing.

“Yeah. Just as friends. But I just wanted to make sure you're okay with it first.” Her words make it sound like she cares what Lydia thinks, but her tone doesn’t.

“Sure,” Lydia says, sounding anything but okay with it. “As long as it's just friends.”

“Well, yeah, I mean-” she chuckles a little “-it's not like I would take him to the coach's office during lacrosse practice to make out with him or anything.”

And there we go. I try to hide my smirk at my friend’s slight aggression, quietly proud of her for sticking up for herself.

Lydia falters, shock and guilt written on her face. She exchanges a look with me, wincing. “Uh, about that-”

Well, at least we’re not awkwardly dancing around this anymore.

____________

We finally stop in front of a tree that looks as good as any other tree in the woods, and I’m not sure why we had to walk all the way out here.

“So, I would really like a confirmation that you’re not going to kill us, Ally,” I joke, grateful I wore my Converse. Poor Lydia is in heels.

Allison doesn’t answer, instead kneeling down next to her duffel and pulling out what looks to be a hand guard- something you usually wear when practicing archery. She then pulls out an arrow, but without the arrowhead. Finally, she digs in her bag some more, and unearths the arrowhead, twisting it onto the actual arrow.

Arms crossed, and also wondering what the hell is going on, Lydia asks, “What does that do?”

Smirking, Allison answers, “We're about to find out.”

With that, she stands up, picking up her bow, nocking the arrow, and aiming it at a tree a few feet away. Allison releases the bow string, and the arrow flies through the air. As it makes impact with the tree, a tiny explosion occurs, sparks flying in the air, causing Lydia and I to jump back in surprise. My eyes are locked on the arrow in front of us. I don’t have much experience with archery, besides fantasy books, but I’m pretty sure arrows are not supposed to explode.

Allison lowers her bow, staring at the arrow with a look that says she was not expecting that, and let me tell you, neither was I.

“What the hell was that?” Lydia asks, her eyes still on the arrow, as well.

“I don't know,” Allison answers, shaking her head slightly.

“Well,” Lydia says, clapping her hands together slightly and stepping forward. “That was fun! Any more lethal weapons you wanna try out?”

Suddenly, we hear a twig snap off to the side, and our heads whip in that direction. No, come on. One day. I just want one day where my friends and I don’t almost fucking die.

Another twig snapping has Allison handing her bow to Lydia, who looks at her in confusion. “Hold this,” Allison says.

“What? Why?” Lydia whispers, looking like she’s holding a bomb instead of a bow that’s not even armed.

Allison starts taking off her hand guard, telling Lydia, “Because I thought I heard something.”

“So- what if you heard something?

Allison smirks a little sarcastically. “So- I want to find out what that something is. Don't worry. It's probably nothing.”

As Allison walks away, I say, “Every time someone says something is nothing, that something turns out to be something super dangerous.”

Allison doesn’t look over her shoulder as she states like it’s the simplest thing in the world, “Then shoot it.”

As she disappears from view, I turn to Lydia, fear written over both our faces. “Do you by any chance know how to use that thing?” I ask. Lydia shakes her head wordlessly, and I nod. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

____________

After a few minutes of waiting anxiously for Ally to come back, I was on the verge of calling the police.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she appeared and explained that the noises had just been Scott looking for her. He wanted to return her necklace, and knew she sometimes jogged out on the trail. He probably didn’t have to be so creepy about it, but at least Ally has her necklace back.

After dress shopping, where none of us found dresses we liked, Stiles called and asked me to come over. We were going to study for our history test together.

Now, I walk through the front door to find Stiles in the kitchen, drinking milk straight out of the carton while Noah sits working at the dining room table.

“Hey,” Stiles greets as I shrug off my jacket and hang it on a hook by the door.

“Hey,” I respond. “Who’s ready to learn the same information we’ve been learning on the American Revolution for the past eight years?”

Stiles cracks a smile at my comment, nodding as we start to head upstairs, but his attention is grabbed by his dad in the dining room. “Whatcha doing?” Stiles asks, the milk carton now at his side.

“Work,” Noah answers simply, not looking up. The dining room table is covered in papers. Noah is wearing his glasses, and has a pen in his hand and another tucked behind one ear.

“Anything we can help with?”

“We?” Noah asks, glancing up.

I step into view next to Stiles, smiling slightly and giving a little half-wave. “Hey, Uncle Noah.”

“Hey, Viv,” he greets, then turns back to Stiles. “You know, if you poured me an ounce of whiskey, that would be awfully nice.”

Stiles immediately puts the milk carton on the counter, rummaging around in the cabinets for a glass and the alcohol. He finds both and moves to sit next to his dad, me following. “Any leads?” He asks, and reaches for a paper. As he does, Noah reaches out and slaps Stiles’ hand away, causing him to retract his hand and making a noise at the unexpected pain.

“You know I can't discuss that with you,” Noah says, tossing both of us a look. Stiles grabs the bottle of whiskey and the glass in each hand. “Not too much.”

Stiles nods, pouring the alcohol into the glass, stopping after what is definitely more than what Noah wanted. “Okay,” Stiles says, handing the glass to his dad. “There you go, Dad.”

“Thanks,” Noah says, not taking his eyes off his work to look at the glass.

“Bottoms up.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise as Noah indeed downs the whole thing in one go. I exchange a look with Stiles. Damn. Noah is going to have such a headache tomorrow.

Noah lets out a frustrated breath as he looks back at his files. “You know, Derek Hale would be a whole hale of a lot- Hale of a lot?”

His eyebrows scrunch together as he tries to form the words correctly in his mind.

“Hell of a lot?” I say, sharing an amused look with Stiles.

Noah nods. “Hell. Yes. He would be a hell of a lot easier to catch if we could get an actual picture of him.”

“How do you not have a picture of him?” Stiles asks.

“It's the weirdest thing,” Noah says, picking up a picture. “It's like every time we tried to get a mugshot, it's like two-” Stiles grabs the photo right out of his dad’s hand, showing it to me “-laser beams were pointing at the camera.”

In Derek’s mugshot, there are two huge circles of light where his eyes should be. I’m assuming that the light from the camera reflected weirdly off his wolf eyes, making them look like two stop lights.

“Nice,” Stiles says, and I have to admit it does look pretty cool.

“Oh, my God. Oh!” Noah says suddenly, taking off his glasses and placing them on the table. He rubs his eyes. “God, that ounce hit me like a brick. And I have said way too much, and if either of  you repeat any of that-”

Stiles lifts his hands like ‘who, us?’, smiling slightly. “Dad- it's us. We’re not gonna say anything. Come on.” I nod and smile in confirmation, as if we are not going to tell all of this information to Scott the first chance we get.

“See, the thing is they're all connected,” Noah continues as Stiles pulls papers out of a file. “I mean, the bus driver that got killed, he was an insurance investigator assigned to the Hale house fire.”

“‘Terminated under suspicion of fraud,’” Stiles reads off the paper, leaning over to see it.

“Exactly,” Noah confirms.

“Who else?” I ask, leaning forward in curiosity.

Sheriff: The video store clerk who got his throat slashed-” I swallow hard of the memory of the glowing red stop lights of Peter’s alpha werewolf eyes “-he's a convicted felon, history of arson.

“What about the other two guys, the guys who got killed in the woods?” Stiles asks. The two guys who were bothering Scott and Stiles the night before the last full moon, both of whom were charred that night. They were the ones Stiles and I saw on the gurney.

Noah waves a hand, answering, “Priors all over their records including-”

“Arson,” I realize, sharing a look with Stiles. I talk mostly to him now, lowering my voice to a whisper so Noah doesn’t hear. “So maybe they all had something to do with the fire. Maybe this is why Peter was killing them- as some sort of revenge.”

Stiles nods, opening his mouth to answer when Noah gathering his papers grabs our attention. “Another shot?” Stiles asks, holding up the bottle.

Noah quickly shakes his head. “No, no, no, no more.”

“Dad, come on,” Stiles tries. “You work really hard, all right? You deserve it.”

Noah finally relents, sighing, “Oh, my God, I'm gonna have such a hangover.” Probably, yep.

“You mean you're gonna have such a good night's sleep,” Stiles corrects his father. As he pours, he whispers to me, “I'm gonna have an eternity in the lowest circle of hell.”

“Maybe we can share an apartment,” I joke, feeling bad we’re doing this.

Noah drinks the alcohol a little slower this time, but it still disappears quickly. When he finishes, he rolls it back and forth on the bottom rim. He nearly rolls it off the table, but Stiles catches it before it shatters on the floor and places it back on the table.

Noah puts his head in his hands, sighing, “Kids, there's just so many questions.”

“Like what?” Stiles asks.

Noah lifts his head up. “Like if Derek- wanted to kill everyone involved with the fire… then why start with his sister? I mean, she had nothing to do with it. Why make it look like some kind of animal did it?” I start to feel a little worse as my godfather continues to mumble, “When that cougar ended up in the parking lot- I checked with animal control. You know the instances of wild animal reports were up seventy percent over the past few months? It's like they're just going crazy, running out of the woods. I don't know.”

Stiles looks over to me as he says, “Or something's scaring them out.” Alpha Peter is such a great guy- scaring deer and other wild animals.

Noah nods, smiling softly and looking over at Stiles. “You know, I miss talking to you. To both of you. It's like we never have time-”

Stiles, too distracted by the new information to even hear Noah, grabs his phone from his pants pocket. “Dad, you know, I have to make a phone call- I'm sorry. I'll be right back.”

“I do,” Noah continues as if he doesn’t hear as Stiles stands up and I start to follow him out of the room. “I miss it. And I miss your mom.”

We freeze in our steps and turn back.

“What'd you say?” Stiles asks.

Ignoring Stiles, Noah says, “And I miss your family, Vivvy.” I swallow back the tears already gathering in my eyes, fingering my locket.

Noah reaches to the whiskey bottle. I stay in my place as Stiles steps back over to his dad, gently taking his hand and stopping him from pouring the liquid into the glass.

“Thanks,” Noah whispers.

____________

Soon after that, we are rushing out of the house again.

Scott had called Stiles and explained that Peter, disguised as a medical rep, is currently taking his mother out on a date. So now we are in Stiles’ Jeep, driving very quickly around town to find Peter and Ms. McCall.

Finally, we see a car up ahead, recognizing Ms. McCall and Peter the Demon Werewolf from Hell through the windows.

“Wait, what’s the plan here?” I ask, realizing Stiles and I hadn’t thought of a way to get Ms. McCall away from Peter.

Stiles tilts his head. “Well, I have nothing except giving the car a fender bender,” he says.

Unfortunately, that’s all I have, too. I nod. “Do it, dude.”

Stiles throws an arm across my stomach, securing me in place, then puts more weight on the gas, bursting forward and hitting the back of Peter’s car with more force than he probably wanted. He immediately turns to me. “You okay?” He asks.

I nod, saying, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Ms. McCall is immediately out of the car, already shouting, “Oh, are you kidding me? Stiles! Vivian!”

Stiles and I wince, getting out of the car. “Ms. McCall?” Stiles asks, feigning surprise.

“Yes!” Ms. McCall exclaims.

Stiles laughs slightly, trying to play it off. “Wow, this is- this is just crazy. What a coincidence, huh?”

She humorlessly laughs, “Ha ha.”

I stand off to the side, arms crossed tightly in front of my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible as Stiles continues the facade that this was an accident. “I mean- I do not know what happened. You guys just came out of nowhere.”

“Came out of nowhere!” Ms. McCall repeats. “We were parked on the side of the road, Stiles.”

“How crazy is that?” Stiles asks as Peter walks up to us. Out of reflex, I tense and step back a little, placing myself behind Stiles. Noticing this, Stiles inches in front of me. “I mean, we should probably call the cops, you know, do, like, an accident report thing.”

“I don't think that's necessary,” Peter says, not actually looking at us.

“Are you sure?” I ask tentatively, as Stiles starts rubbing his neck.

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “I think I'm feeling a little whiplash.”

“Whiplash?” Ms. McCall demands. “You two hit us!”

Stiles keeps rubbing his neck, which is definitely fine. “I don't know - there's something definitely wrong with my neck.”

I eye Peter walking away toward the front of the car, muttering to himself, and I realize that Scott must be here, hidden somewhere.

Stiles and I eventually convince Ms. McCall to come with us, sending Psycho Peter on his merry way. Off to terrorize more innocent deer, I guess.

[chocoholicannanymous]

Ember pt 3 (Teen Wolf)

This is the last part of this fic, that was commisioned by @rubylis​ through @fandomtrumpshate​ 2017. Better late than never, right?

Part 2 here,  Part 1 here and  Flare here

As always, I own nothing except an overactive imagination, way too many plotbunnies and a worn red hoodie.

Ember, part 3

Stiles faces the camera, features deceptively relaxed and calm, but eyes hard. He waits for the light to change, just as he's been told – just like he's rehearsed – and when it does he counts to three before starting to talk.

“My name is Mieczyslaw Stilinski. Two years ago my Mark flared, and I've been hiding from the Council ever since.”

O---o--o---O

It's not a bad life, this new one. Oh, it’s unfamiliar, but it’s not bad. Just...hard. Strange. Like it should be someone else’s.

When Stiles wakes up in an unfamiliar room - or rather, when Stiles wakes up nothing makes sense. He should be dead. He planned on being dead. And yet. His body feels strong, and capable, and absolutely in no way dying. It makes no sense, fits none of his memories, just as the room doesn’t.

And then he sees Derek.

After that it’s easy to start putting the pieces of the puzzle together, and by the time someone comes to give him information (say, two, maybe three minutes after he first wakes up) Stiles has a pretty accurate idea. Not with all the details, no, but enough that not much of what the woman - Marin, she introduces herself as - says comes as a surprise.

Weres don’t do well with losing their Matches. Someone like Derek, who’s already lost so much (and yes, even as emotionally compromised as he’d been it hadn’t taken that long for Stiles to connect “Derek” to Derek Hale of Beacon Hills’s biggest tragedy) would have done even less so. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to figure out that Derek had been just desperate enough to not think, and risk everything, to give his dying Match the bite.

Because when he focuses Stiles can tell he’s been changed - and interesting, he’s almost completely certain he’s a were, not a Kanima. That’s another lie exposed, another strike for the Council then.

One day, he promises. One day…

The rest of the puzzle unravels inside his overactive brain, and Marin’s information just fills in blank spots and provides nuance. Such as the room, and the cabin, they’re in being located in a warded community - Stiles had hoped, but it’s good to have it confirmed - and that he and Derek are welcome to stay as long as they wish.

There’s one thing Marin tells him that’s a complete surprise though. Derek has given up his Alpha power, for Stiles.

He thinks about that one for a long time. The idea of someone giving up that kind of power is...almost unfathomable. Power is addicting, for one, and since Derek inherited his power from his family, sentimentality also plays in. Plus, you know, a hundred more reasons. And it could have come in very handy, too, for Derek to be able to control Stiles in some way.

Except Derek just gave it up. To keep Stiles safe.

That’s humbling.

It’s also another sign that maybe he and Derek truly are well Matched - the two of them, not just their Marks.

Stiles remembers thinking that if he could have Derek and his soul both he’d never give either up. Well. Looks like he’s getting his wish.

It’s not quite that easy, of course. As much as Stiles and Derek both would love to just lose themselves in each other the truth is they can’t. Not even having freed themselves from the council make them completely free. Because second chances never come for free, and the price for Stiles’s is everything else - including his humanity.

Teaching him to live with the change and find control has to come first.

It sucks.

Stiles expects focus to be as hard as always, control to be difficult, and finding an anchor easy as breathing - with Derek next to him, how can it be anything else?

Only it’s not. It’s worse than he could ever have imagined, and it’s a fight for every inch. His first full moon is, well, a disaster. Not even Derek can keep him from trying to run back to Beacon Hills. Regardless of the danger Beacon Hills is where his dad is, and caught up in instinct that’s all Stiles knows - his dad’s been his everything for years, and now he’s not here.

In the end the community’s magic users has to step in. Stiles wakes up the next day with an impressive headache, chained to the floor of a room he’s never seen before. Apparently they knocked him out after he tried to literally claw his way out - through Derek.

The shame over that lingers for months, which makes control even harder to find. Derek helps him through it all without reproach, and by the time Stiles has found enough of a balance for them to be able to focus on each other too that steady support has endeared the man even more to Stiles.

(Finding out that one of Derek’s reasons for giving up his Alpha power was so Stiles wouldn’t ever feel like Derek could control him has already made Stiles very close to falling in love.)

It takes the better part of a year for Stiles to get his werewolfiness in check - to be able to run free during the full moon, and to even think of doing anything but keeping himself under ironclad control. A year before his desire to run back to Beacon Hills and snatch his father away isn’t a danger to all of them. Before he can be trusted to keep his claws where they belong even when his emotions are running high. Before he’s safe to even consider dating. (Stiles is a teenager, okay, and one with a more than healthy libido. He’s learned the hard way why getting his hands on his gorgeous Match isn’t a good idea yet.)

The upside to that is that once it is safe Stiles and Derek have gotten to know each other enough that they can safely say that getting together is about the two of them, not about being Matched.

Not to say being Derek’s Match isn’t amazing. It is. Maybe it’s because Stiles is a were now, and that he and Derek are connected through the bite, through pack. Maybe it’s the magic of the Marks. Either way they can feel each other, and having that is, it’s everything. Stiles loves his dad, okay, he 100 percent does, and he knows it’s mutual. It’s just that the loss of Claudia Stilinski had left them both feeling adrift and unstable, and having Derek there as a constant and solid presence gives Stiles solid ground under his feet for the first time since. And the same, Stiles knows, is true in reverse.

They’ve both lost just about everything. They’re both giving each other exactly that. Everything.

If this is what Matches and Marks are truly about, Stiles thinks, it’s no wonder there are poets whose works deal solely with the subject.

Knowing makes him hate the Council even more for twisting it.

Still, here and now life is good. And then some Council-connected asshole tries to kill Scott.

It goes like this, he’s told once he’s no longer a frothing ball of fangs, fur and rage. Some Council flunky calls the Beacon Hills sheriff’s station, requesting assistance regarding Scott McCall. The thing is, the Beacon Hills sheriff's station? Is John Stilinski’s station. That means he’s the one who answers the call.

As he’s fond of saying, John didn’t get his job through his looks. He’s smart, intuitive, and a good detective. He also apparently has a much better idea of what his late wife was up to than anyone - she included - has ever realized. Add the bitterness of having lost his son because of the Council and the result is a man determined to not have others suffer the same.

He saves at least three lives that day simply by thinking faster than the other party.

As soon as the name Scott McCall is uttered John talks over the flunky, firing off questions too fast for the other man to actually answer them, ending with a oh-so-casual mention that Scott should be safely with his pack for the full moon. That stops the Council flunky dead, just as intended.

It’s Scott’s first full moon after getting the bite - a bite more of less brought on by medical emergency after his latest asthma attack nearly killed him - and well, records can be real slow to update. With Scott being a relative no one, having his status as a were out there before anything else can be said could be the only thing saving him from the very fate Stiles once feared enough to take poison.

John’s not about to let that happen on his watch.

Something about how the flunky reacts makes John nervous enough to set up a watch at the McCall residence that night, leaving him in a position to stop an assassination attempt - there can be no other description, he insists, for an attack using mountain ash, wolf’s-bane grenades and wolf’s-bane bullets. Not to mention the attackers doesn’t seem to care too much about the fact that there are two people living in the house.

And that’s before John realizes someone’d broken into his house while he was at the McCalls, most likely to get him too out of the way.

The cherry on top of that shit-sundae is that Scott is Marked and the Council doesn’t have his Match in custody. Nor do they seem very eager to rectify that, or even share information about who the elusive Match is. Leaving John and Melissa with Scott, a newly changed were, who is almost guaranteed to not be in control is Marked and a missing Match.

It’s a good thing Stiles only finds out afterwards.

A really good thing.

A week after that clusterfuck Marin passes on the information that his dad and the McCalls are safe, hidden in another of the secretive warded communities. She won’t tell Stiles where it is, or let him pass messages back - it’s still too dangerous to let anyone know he’s alive, especially with Scott being so volatile, and likely to set out on a hunt for his Match. She does promise, however, that once it’s safe they’ll find a way to transfer John Stilinski to their community.

It’s good, but it’s nowhere enough. Having just had the fact that no one is truly safe shoved in his face makes Stiles angry, angrier than he’s ever been. It’s not the kind of red hot fury that causes him to pop claws and want to kill people. It’s an icy-white one, cold and calculating, every part of brilliance from his human genius stoked by the wolf’s desire to protect his pack. The Council might have gotten away with killing his mom, but not this. Going after the only people Stiles had left in him to love (preDerek, obviously) just because Scott taking the bite to save his own damned life stops them from twisting his Mark to suit their own purposes is passing the point of no return.

Stiles might not have been willing to fight for himself, but he sure as hell will for the people he loves.

At first he wanted to find those faceless people trying to steal one of Stiles’s two friends and hurt them. Wanted to rip, and claw, and bite, and tear. their. throats. out. With his teeth. Now that he’s calmed down some he knows that’s not enough. Stiles wants to destroy them like they wanted to destroy Scott.

So he starts plotting. Living where he does Stiles isn’t without resources. First of all, the warded communities contain a lot of people who are just like him, in that they are in danger from the Council, and want to see it torn down. That’s good - he’ll need people like that.

Also, he’s got access to a lot of information he’s never known before, information the Council would prefer if no one knew, but it’s not enough. He needs more. Lots and lots more.

It’s time, Stiles decides, to play his hidden ace.

That ace consists of two sets of numbers that his mom made him memorize not long before she died. The first is a phone number, and the second an ID code of some sort that he leaves on the answering machine along with a number he can be reached on.

Then all he can do is wait.

That wait is why he didn’t make the call when his Mark flared, why he chose poison instead. Getting an answer will take up to 48 hours, time he hadn’t had back then. And no matter how much his mom believed that whoever answers could help, Stiles has limited trust in what they can do.

48 hours would have seen him locked up in a sub-training facility (provided he’d survived that long) and yeah. Locating someone in a sub-training facility, breaking in and freeing them is beyond a tall order, it’s pretty much impossible.

He’s got time now though.

The man that meets him looks like a librarian, meek and mild mannered - if you look at the surface. Stiles doesn’t do that. First of all because his dad taught him that appearances can be deceiving, second because going to school with Lydia Martin brought that lesson home big time, and third because he doesn’t have to.

Being a were has its drawbacks, true, but the heightened senses mean Stiles rarely has to guess about somethings. Like the fact that this man is lethal. It’s a thousand little things that a regular person wouldn’t notice, and that maybe one by one mean nothing, but put together it’s obvious.

He moves in a way that only a true predator does. He’s not a were (even if he could mask it from Stiles’s senses there’s no fooling the talisman Stiles brought) but he’s just as dangerous as if he were. Dangerous enough that Stiles isn’t 100% sure he could take the man in a fight, and that’s...chilling. Even more so as he’s also not sure he’ll be allowed to walk away without one if he fails to answer the man’s questions to satisfaction.

The interrogation - because that’s what it turns out to be - starts out with Stiles having to explain how he’d gotten the phone number and code he’d used. It continues to why, and how he can’t really be who he claims to be. It takes a lot more than Stiles had hoped to satisfy the still unnamed man, but at the same time that’s somewhat calming. Someone that careful about speaking to the right person for the right reasons should be safe to trust - at least a little.

In the end the man nods, and tells Stiles to call him Christian. It’s fake, obviously, but it’s better than “the man”, especially for someone with a parent in law enforcement.

“Did your mom ever tell you why she had that number?”

“She said it was for someone who owed her a favor, and who could help me if I had no other way out. ‘A hidden  ace in the sleeve’ she said.”

Christian nods, clearly agreeing.

“And why did you wait until now?” All things considered hangs in the air.

“Wasn’t until now I felt I could. Considered it, back when… But mom told me you’d need time to respond, and yeah, I didn’t have that. Had another option that didn’t need time though. I wasn’t exactly wanting to gamble on you being able to get me out of their claws, should I land in them.

“But now? Now I’ve got time, and a use for that favor that doesn’t depend on you being crazy enough to take on the Council to repay it.”

Christian looks at him strangely, and seems to be thinking hard. Stiles can tell that whatever’s running through the other man’s head is important, so he clamps down on his impatience and waits. He’s gotten better at that, thankfully.

When Christian finally makes up his mind Stiles has run through his contingency exit plans five times, in a different order every time, and he’s close to going for one of them.

“You know why I owe your mom a favor? No? It’s not a pretty story. A few years back my old military commander called in a favor. A huge one, meaning I had to disappear from the face of the earth for a bit.”

Christian smiles, a twisted mockery of humor that tells Stiles there’s a story there that he wants to hear but won’t.

“I’d been gone for five days, had another three left when my Mark flared. I made enough of a stink that they opened communications for me. When I got through one of my partners informed me he’d experienced the flare too, at the same time. And so had our third. Their Marks lined up, and from what we could tell, mine did as well.

“I know, a triple Match? Unheard of, but. It felt right. Felt like everything I never thought I deserved, but would give everything to have.

“Except our third, she was missing.”

Stiles thinks about going through that, about having Derek missing, and can barely breathe from how horrible even the thought makes him feel. Across from him Christian is nodding grimly.

“She’d just gone out for a quick errand, some important call, and got pulled into a wan. Everything pointed to her having been picked up for sub training, only it made no sense. Neither of us are the submissive type, but her the least. Out of the three of us, if I’d had to make the call, I’d have said Ha-Harry.

“But what really made the alarms go off was the fact that neither me nor H-Harry had been informed of a Match. That breaks all the rules, and it was worrying enough that I was pulled out and allowed to go back. We thought maybe it was because I was where I was. Except I got home, and there was still no contact, and when my old CO went snooping through records he couldn’t find anything about her.”

It sounds, Stiles thinks, like what would have happened to Scott had he not been bitten, and had someone other than John Stilinski answered the call. Both the disappearance, and the missing records - they’ve got access to topclass hackers, and no one’s managed to find even the slightest shred of information on his Match. All they have is Scott’s insistence that they’re out there, somewhere, and a sense of direction.

“Your mom was the one to help us. She got us the location of three sub-training facilities, and ranked them in order of most likely, and with that we were able to make a plan.”

Apparently, Stiles muses as the tale unveils, it isn’t impossible to break into a sub-training facility. Also, he’s clearly underestimated Christian. The man is insane enough to launch an attack on a Council facility, and brilliant enough to pull it off. Good to know. He also gets every single suspicion regarding what happens in sub-training confirmed, not that he needed it.

“Once we located her… She was unconscious, strapped to a bed, and showed obvious defensive wounds. It made no sense. She’s not a fighter, even if she can defend herself if needed. The way she works, she’d have either waited for us to come for her or for them to relax and then break out. For her to have fought…”

Not good.

“Yeah. Except whatever you’re thinking, it was probably worse. I checked her over, to see if she could be moved without extra caution, and let me tell you, I’ve seen women treated better in war zones - hell, I’ve seen war criminals treated better. In the end we counted six broken bones, a dislocated shoulder, a fractured wrist and several burn marks. I’m not even going to touch on what else they did. Suffice to say we sure as fuck didn’t need to run a rapekit.

“She wasn’t alone there - they had four others in various conditions. Two had been given the same treatment as our girl, only it must have been for a longer time. One was physically unharmed, but completely broken. The last one… She was braindead. They kept her on life support though, apparently as a warm body for when they wanted a fuck but weren’t up for the fight with the others.”

That...that’s Stiles’s worst nightmare right there, confirmed. He fights back the urge to throw up, and renews his promise to never let them take him alive.

“I can help you get away. You’ll never have to worry about the Council again, I promise you, but you’ll have to give up everything.”

Stiles starts to interrupt, but Christian raises his hand and continues.

“I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is. You can bring a bag, and if your dad’s willing, him too. Just, you can’t ever return, and you can’t keep in touch with anyone here.”

“Yeah, no. I’m not saying I wouldn’t give up a lot to be safe, but that’s not what I’m looking for here. I already did that, okay, I allowed my dad to think I was dead and left him behind to avoid the council. And I think I’ve done fine, staying under their radar. So thanks, but no thanks.

“But just for the record? If I’d agreed, there’s no way I would have gone without Derek. My Match,” he clarifies as Christian raises a questioning eyebrow.

For the first time Stiles sees the man react, apparently shocked by the fact that Stiles is with his Match, and that they’re close enough that staying together isn’t optional.

“So what is it you want then?”

“Information. Mom said you had ways to get it, on just about anything. Well, that’s what I need. As much as you can get me. The Council’s taken too much from me already, and from so many others, and I’m done letting them. It’s time they’re taken down. But I need information to do that.”

Once again Stiles gets to watch as shock travels across Christian’s face, followed by a longer silence.

“And you think you can do that?”

“I’m not seeing anyone else stepping up. Are you?” The double entendre hangs in the air between them, vibrating like the challenge it is.

“So, can you do it? Can you get me what I need?”

Christian hesitates, and Stiles is preparing to push when he hears a low murmur coming from somewhere close to the other man. Judging from the way Christian cocks his head slightly and from the way his face tightens - just minutely, only visible to someone like Stiles - he’s listening to something. Someone? A communications device of some kind, probably.

This...could turn nasty. He starts running through exit strategies again, but before he can make a decision Christian swears in a low, almost inaudible voice.

“Dammit, Ha-...”

Then he takes a deep breath and says, reluctance clinging to his voice, “you’ll get your information”.

As it turns out, back when they’d broken into the Council facility to get their girl the invisible “Harry” (and if that’s his actual name, then Stiles’s is Mike, which… yeah) had not only gone through the computers to steal as much information as possible, but also left a data mining program behind. Which is good for Stiles, but (understandably) makes Christian furious.

There are a quite few more muttered curses, as well as a very pointed remark about people who have no concept of safety, and who don’t understand that Christian can’t protect them if they keep fucking secrets. Stiles sensibly chooses to not even touch that with a ten foot pole. He’d react the same way if it was Derek being reckless - and he knows Derek will be even worse once he finds out just what it is Stiles is up to now.

Stiles won’t apologize for it though, not even though he knows he’s put not only himself but everyone in danger. Just as he won’t be anything but happy that “Harry” did something equally dangerous. It’s selfish, sure, but if getting this information gets him even one step closer to taking down the Council it’s worth it.

It’s another hour before Stiles can leave, the portable hard drive that supposedly holds the keys to the kingdom hidden on his body. Christian’s twitchy, and it’s obvious why. He wants to help, but at the same time he wants nothing to do with any of it.

“Look, I..:”

“No. You feel like you should offer to help out, right? Well, I’m not going to lie, I could use the help. But I’m not going to take it. You have your Matches to take care of, to protect. Your girl? She needs you to stay the hell away from the Council, and I’m running full speed ahead in their direction.

“Sure, you or your… ‘Harry’ find out anything, and send it my way, I’d be very grateful. But this is my fight, my choice. I’m not risking anyone else.”

That, of course, isn’t exactly 100 percent true. He’ll try not to, but something tells Stiles that in the end he’ll have no option but to risk others. He just won’t do it unless it’s completely unavoidable, and honestly? He’ll probably try and only risk people who deserve it. People whose deaths wouldn’t be that big of a loss.

But not these three. Not after what they’ve already suffered.

Christian looks him over, nods and reaches out to take Stiles’s hand. His voice is dead serious once he speaks.

“Alright. Once you launch whatever attach you’re planning though? You let me know. You hear me? And if you don’t let me know you’re okay after, I’ll come for you. They get you, I’ll get you out. Your Match too. No matter what, I’ll get you out and somewhere they can’t touch you.

“And not because of what I owe your mom. Because what you’re doing? It’s something I should have done - that I would do if it didn’t mean risking the others. And for that, man, I owe you.”

Once he’s back home, and has had his eardrums practically shattered from a dozen lectures, as well as almost getting frostburns from the cold shoulder Derek shows him, Stiles starts going through the material he’s been given. (Well, once he’s had one of the resident computer witches - or “techno pagans”, apparently - check that the drive’s safe.) It’s a lot. It’s a fricking mountain of information, is what it is, and Stiles is going to find what he needs in it even if it means not sleeping for a year.

He’s a were, he’ll survive.

Probably.

Three days in Derek tranqs him, forcing him to sleep through the night, and when he starts up again it’s with Derek next to him. That works much better. Well, “better” as in that together they cover more ground and sometimes Derek picks up on things Stiles misses due to different knowledge bases. “Not better” as in now Derek is involved. Stiles would prefer if he wasn’t, but considering Derek feels the same way about him there’s really not much he can do about it without looking like a big, fat hypocrite.

In the end they find what they need to know - and of course, Stiles thinks, it’s magic - and he makes a plan. It’s a good plan, in terms of achieving their goals, but he’s fairly sure no one else will agree.

“Are you insane?” Marin isn’t screaming, unlike everyone else in the room, but that doesn’t make her any calmer or less angry.

“No. Look, this is the only way to go. Worst case scenario-”

“We all die.”

“No. Okay, yes, but that’s the worst case scenario for every single day even doing nothing, as long as the Council exists. So we’re ignoring that. The worst case scenario is we break the magic that allows the Council to track the flare, and find Matches, but everything else stays the same. Best case? We ruin them. We free everyone, for the rest of time. I’m good with possibly dying being the worst case scenario if we can win that.”

Stiles isn’t suicidal, regardless of others might think. He wants to live a long life, with Derek next to him, and the year and a half they’ve had together is nowhere enough. (He’s not sure any amount of time will really be enough.) Just… The way they’re living, hiding and in fear, it’s not good. For now they’re safe, sure, but only if they shrink their lives, if they cut themselves off from everything outside the wards. And it really is for now. Sooner or later the Council will find them. The world has changed so much that not even the strongest wards will keep them completely hidden much longer. Once the Council starts truly searching - and they will - nowhere and no one will be safe any longer.

He wants a life where he can run free under the full moon with Derek by his side. He wants a life where Scott can find his Match and be happy. He wants a world where that is possible, and he’s willing to risk his life for it.

It’s as easy as that.

He gets a solid team of five. Derek - who won’t stay away, no matter how many times Stiles begs him. Jana the techno pagan. Another witch, a white haired old man who calls himself Raven. A bounty hunter slash bodyguard by the name of Braeden.

And then he gets Jennifer.

Under any other circumstance Stiles would rather cut his arm off than work with her. For one, she’s batshit crazy. He’s not making fun, or light, of the mental health issues she’s clearly got, no. When he calls her that he’s referring to the fact that she’s killed seven people (that he knows of) in some power-raising ritual.

She’s living in the community only because she can’t be allowed to walk free - either she’d continue to kill people, or the Council would capture her and use her - and the team sent to stop her wouldn’t dirty their hands or their ethics by killing her.

Stiles would have done the deed himself if not for the cold facts: if Jennifer could be made into a weapon by the Council she can also be one against them. That had been a possibility he hadn’t been willing to throw away. After all, there was always the option of killing her later should she turn out useless - unkilling someone however…

There are three things Stiles knows to be undeniably true about Jennifer: She hates the Council just as much as he does. She hates her Match who betrayed her to them even more. She cannot be trusted.

And now he’s going to have to do exactly that.

O---o--o---O

Stiles gives himself a mental shake, forces himself out of the memories, and refocuses on the camera. He's only got so long, and it’s important he do this right. His job is drawing attention. From the regular people watching his broadcast, the ones about to have the Council’s crimes thrown in their faces in full technicolor glory thanks to “Harry” and his data mining. But also from the Council, and their goons. He’s bait, plain and simple, to make them focus on him and hopefully miss as Jennifer and Raven smash two hundred years of oppressive magic to impotent little pieces.

“I've been hiding from the Council, because I know their secrets. I know what they are. I know what they do - what they would do to me given even half a chance. I know what they’ve done to others, and that the ones they killed are the lucky ones.”

He talks about Scott, and the girl that’s his missing Match. He talks about the Hales, about the people his mom tried to help, about people that only exist as notes and pictures in stolen files.

When he’s done, eyes aching and voice hoarse, he gives the camera as hard a look as he can.

“I'm done. No more hiding. No more living in fear. No more allowing them to break and twist and murder people.

“It's time for them to fear me.”

~The End ~