iluvroadrunner6 | get your words out { 2024 } yahtzee tracking

get your words out { 2024 } yahtzee tracking

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Running Score: 210 (7/8)
Word Count: 27,806

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Edited 2024-03-12 12:58 (UTC)

Coming back to an apartment you couldn’t previously see in color is a bit of a (awkward) shock.

Cora makes a face as she sees the mismatched colors that were previously a lovely shade of gray scale and tries to rearrange. It’s fortunate, in some ways, that Hales aren’t particularly materialistic. It means there’s not a lot to move around. While Peter had attempted to furnish her apartment properly, he couldn't see in color any more than she could.

Still, she could have lived forever without knowing how much of an eyesore her place was. Fucking Isaac.

She loads some of the garbage bags of things that absolutely had to go into an abandoned wheelchair that she and her neighbors use for exactly this purpose and sighs. She shouldn’t think that way—she doesn’t know for sure that it’s Isaac who triggered her brand-new color vision. Perhaps she’s clinging to the option because it’s the least terrifying—she knows Isaac, which is better than it being a total stranger. But she doesn’t know if Isaac is what she wants. Is it settling because he’s convenient or is it hope because she’s been harboring something all along?

Ugh.

Who knows? Maybe she’ll never see him again. He didn't appear to be significantly affected, so perhaps she is overreacting and Isaac will simply continue to avoid her while she is in New York.

She immediately curses that impulse when the doors to the elevator open and she’s startled to find Isaac standing on the other side. “Isaac.”

“Hey. I need a favor.”

At least he gets right to the point. She takes a deep breath before pushing the wheelchair out and heading towards the door. “Yeah, sure. Let me just throw this out first.”

Exactly how she wanted to spend her evening.

“I thought we were going to Brooklyn.”

“Why go all the way to Brooklyn when we can talk to them on neutral ground?”

Isaac follows Cora into Central Park, eyes scanning curiously over the varying grays of the hills. He can’t argue with that logic, especially considering he’s the most out of town of the two of them. Scott wants him to make friends, and he does his best, but sometimes when you walk in as Scott McCall’s representative, the wolves take it a certain way.

But Cora has connections. He’s hoping he’ll be able to use that to his advantage.

They don’t have to wander too far into the park. She leads him past a theater and over a bridge where two men are sitting in bowler hats with typewriters set in front of them. It’s clearly some kind of schtick, though Isaac doesn’t care enough to figure it out. One of them looks up and raises an eyebrow at Cora. He shifts, leaning back with a smug expression.

“Oh how the tables turn,” he grins, before nudging his friend. “Look who’s come crawling back Dietrick. It’s our friend Cora.”

“Fuck off, Brent,” she snaps, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Did you miss me? Because this feels like you missed me.”

Cora looks like she wants to punch him. “My friend needs to talk to Wasserman. Can you make that happen?”

Brent turns and looks at Isaac. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Still working at Sunny’s?”

“Yep. I’m on shift tonight.”

“Cool. We’ll drop by when we’re done.”

Cora nods and goes to lead Isaac away, and he falls in step next to her with a smirk. “Okay, I definitely need that story.”

Cora rolls her eyes, but he’s sure he could wheedle it out of her.

Cora keeps a lid on the story between her and Brent even though Isaac’s eyes are boring into her skull, demanding to know. She makes it all the way in to work and can distract herself with the pinks and blues of the mural streetlamps across the room from her—she’d always wondered what color they were. Now that she knows, it’s a rare instance of something becoming more beautiful.

But Isaac won’t let it go. “So. Brent.”

“There’s no story there.”

“The way you’re acting says otherwise. You might as well fill me in before they get here and I ask him instead.”

Cora glares. “You’re an asshole.”

Isaac smirks. “You knew that.”

“Fine. We hooked up for a while.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. He’s convinced that I’m gonna come crawling back, but he just does that to get under my skin.”

Isaac laughs. “I don’t think it’s hundred percent that, but that makes more sense.”

Cora shrugs. His need to hide everything behind a joke made it hard to tell how serious he was about anything. Plus, he wasn’t her soulmate. Better to cut her losses.

“Do you think Wasserman will come?”

“I think he’ll come for Scott, not necessarily you.”

“I’ll take it.” He picks at his burger before looking up at her again. “I’m not sure I’m going to be good at the whole envoy thing.”

“You’ll make it work. You’re pretty good at reading people. Just don’t let him run all over you. He’ll respect you more if you push back where it makes sense.”

He looks up at her gratefully, and her stomach flutters. She doesn’t have much time to dwell on it before the door opens, and a compact but familiar werewolf enters.

She takes a deep breath. Time to play the game.

Wasserman isn’t what Isaac expected. In fact, the only thing that tracked about him is the fact that he’s annoyed Scott didn’t come to represent himself. Isaac smooths over well enough and tells him that Scott will make a visit—he just wants to see if Wasserman is open to the opportunity.

Isaac has a feeling that the man agrees more because Cora vouched for him than Isaac being persuasive, but Isaac isn’t above using that to his advantage.

Isaac wanders back to the bar, catching glimpses of Cora as she crosses over the line between the old bar with rustic wooden touches, and the stainless-steel kitchen in the back.

“How’d it go?”

“He’s willing to consider, but he wants to meet with Scott himself.”

“When’s Scott coming to town?”

“Couple weeks, maybe. He’ll have to see if Deaton can cover the clinic.”

“Good. It’ll be good to see him.” She places down a burger in front of him, and walks away, but before she can, he reaches out and catches her wrist.

“Thank you,” he says, getting her to meet his eyes. “I couldn’t have made that meeting happen without you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. I just made a call.”

“Yeah. And if it hadn’t been you, he wouldn’t have been here.”

Cora raises an eyebrow like she doesn’t quite know what to make of that. “I’m not anyone, Isaac.”

“You’re someone they respect. That’s not nothing.”

Cora rolls her shoulders, gently pulling her hand from his grasp. “You get Wasserman to respect you by not causing problems. It’s easy.”

Isaac lets her walk away. He will not convince her if she doesn’t want to be convinced. But as she walks away, he can’t help but think for a minute that her hair was brown instead of dark gray.

Isaac wanders out before last call, and Cora is relieved. She doesn’t know what to make of herself around him, nor of that little speech about how much she carried a meeting she wasn’t even in. Cora finishes closing up and makes it about halfway down the block before Wasserman’s broad shoulders swing out of a nearby alleyway. She jumps. “You’re worse than my uncle.”

“I absolutely am not.”

“With appearing in the dead of night out of nowhere? Yes, you are.”

He grins. They walk in companionable silence before she raises an eyebrow.

“And you’re stalking me outside my place of work because why?”

“I take it if you’re making introductions for Scott McCall, there isn’t any chance of getting you to join my pack, is there?”

Cora blinks in surprise. “I wasn’t aware I was being courted.”

“Because I wasn’t sure where things stood. Now I know.”

“Just because Isaac shows up and I do him a favor?”

“Is that all you were doing?” Wasserman turns to face her more, and she tries to meet his gaze and not bend. He’s always been a man with the ability to see right through you, though. It’s what makes him a good alpha.

Unfortunately, she’s still a beta, trying to stand her ground to an alpha, and her stare breaks first. “Does it matter?”

“No. You’re not my beta, so you can do what you want. But for what it’s worth? I don’t think he’s a terrible choice.” Cora fights the urge to blush, and he smirks. “We’ll see if I feel the same about McCall.”

He turns to walk away, and she lets him go, her feelings complicating even further. She doesn’t know what to make of this.

But for what it’s worth, she thinks Wasserman will like Scott.

Edited 2024-04-01 12:37 (UTC)

“Would you like to have dinner?” Bruce pauses, before clarifying: “With me.”

The clarification doesn’t really give her any plausible deniability. While the playboy has faded some from Bruce’s image, he knows how to ask a girl on a date. She will not play dumb and pretend that isn’t what this is.

It’s been a long time since she’s been asked on a date and not just stumbled into a relationship that started with drinks and ended in bed. She’s not sure how it’ll work out, but she wants to, has for a while if she’s honest with herself. She rarely is.

Unfortunately, the first thing that comes out of her mouth is: “In public?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow curiously. “That generally is where people have dinner when on a date.”

Jessica nods, before taking a deep breath. “Could we not do it in public?” His brow furrows. “I’m not sure I want to deal with the additional scrutiny of being out with Bruce Wayne as well as a first date.”

“I think people are a little past—”

“Trust me, they’re really not.”

Bruce nods. “Then why don’t we have it at the manor. I’ll make sure that Dick and Jason have other things to do.”

“I would like that,” Jessica nods with a smile.

“Good. Friday? Around eight?”

“I’ll be there.”

Bruce takes his leave from there. Once the door closes behind him, Gillian pokes her head into the entrance of her office and raises her eyebrows. “Did he just ask you on a date?”

“What? I date.”

“You fuck around and find out. That’s not dating.” Gillian strides in, taking one of the empty seats in front of Jessica’s desk. “Do you even have anything to wear?”

The retort catches in her throat when she realizes the point that Gillian is getting it. It ties into the reason why she didn’t want to do this in public – the expectation of behavior that she rarely wants to adhere to. But that doesn’t mean she’s exempt from making an effort for Bruce.

“Shit.”

Her next instinct is to say that she’d just borrow something from Trish, but well. Trish is gone. And she doesn’t really have a lot of other girlfriends to choose from.

Her face must look like she’s caught like a deer in the headlights because Gillian reaches forward and holds up a hand. “Girl, it’s okay. I got you. We’ll hit a store and see what we can find.”

Relief slumps through her, but she can’t help but snark back. “Doesn’t this count as beyond your job description?”

“For your assistant, yes. For your friend, though, not so much. We’ll go after work.”

“Thank you.”

Gillian’s always been good at setting boundaries, which Jessica appreciates. It makes it harder to take advantage of her, which Jessica’s been guilty of in the past. But they’ve come a long way from when she first started as Jessica’s receptionist. They’ve adapted to each other, and Jessica appreciates her as a friend.

Gillian gets up to walk away, and Jessica is trying to think if there’s anything she likes to give her to start with, if there are boundaries of her own. It’s been a long time since someone else has had any say in her wardrobe and—

A thought claws at her, catching in her throat. “Hey, Gillian? No dresses.”

Gillian glances back, nodding at her in understanding. “I can work with that. And Jess?” She waits until Jessica’s attention is on her again, and nods. “This is a good thing.”

Jessica hopes that she can keep believing it.

“I’m going to need you all to be somewhere else on Friday.”

Three pairs of dark eyes swivel to study him at the head of the table. One of them merely raises an eyebrow, one is glancing between the two to read between the lines, and the third:

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason snaps, always the short fuse.

Bruce sighs before rubbing his eyes. “It means I need the house to myself. Just for the night.”

“Why? Are you having some kind of fancy dress party and need the dirty orphans to not embarrass you?”

“No.”

“Because that’s what it seems like when you just randomly ask us to be somewhere else.”

“No, it’s just—”

“Did you finally ask Jones out?”

Dick’s always been insightful with Bruce, cutting through the layers of complications to get to the heart of the point. Jason’s eyes widen at the question, before turning that implication into a question of his own.

“Did she actually say yes?”

“Who’s Jones?” Tim asks curiously. Given that he’s new to the breakfast table, it makes sense that he wouldn’t know all the connections, but he’s asking questions—that’s always a good sign.

“His PI,” Dick replies. “She’s a friend. Or maybe possibly more than that.” Dick waggles an eyebrow, and Bruce fights the urge to roll his eyes. He thinks he’s doing pretty well at keeping his face neutral. Sometimes it’s better to let them exhaust themselves by saying nothing.

“She’s cool. But she’s also cooler than him, so if she actually said yes, then she’s stupider than I thought.” Jason turns his eyes back to Dick. “Why do you think it’s a date?”

“Because while normally for a date he would take them out somewhere, Jessica does not thrive on being the center of attention and even though Bruce is old—”

“Thanks.”

“—he’s also Gotham’s most notorious bachelor. If Bruce was on a date with someone new, the paparazzi would be all over it. Jessica would hate that. So they’re having the date here instead.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Jason pops another piece of back in his mouth. “So are you?”

“Yes. I asked Jessica out, and yes, she said yes.” Bruce reaches for his coffee. “So can I have the house to myself on Friday?”

“Of course.”

“Yeah, if we have to.”

Bruce’s eyes fall to Tim, and Tim shrugs. “I’ll go hang out with some of my friends. No problem.”

“Great. Thank you.”

The boys disperse and Alfred sidles up next to him. “A bit indelicate, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think they would have agreed if they didn’t have to suss out the information themselves.” Bruce leans back as Alfred reaches forward to clear the plates. “They would have thought I was using it as an excuse to cover something else.”

“How dare they recognize all your flaws,” Alfred replies dryly. “Please be sure to share the menu you have planned for Ms. Jones soon so I can make sure all the preparations are made.”

“Of course.” He watches Alfred, before smirking. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Am I enjoying you inviting Jessica over for something that isn’t going to end in a case of blunt force trauma for someone else?” Alfred teases. “Yes, you could say I’m pleased with this turn of events.”

“Glad I could improve your day, Alfred.”

The corner of Alfred’s mouth tips up in a smirk, before he places a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Be sure that you enjoy it as well, Master Bruce. One would argue that yours is the only opinion that matters.”

Edited 2024-04-24 00:44 (UTC)

“Stop fussing. You look fantastic.”

Jessica obediently drops her hands from where she was fussing with the navy blue button down blouse with a silk finish that shimmers in the light. Black slacks hug her frame towards fashionable flats. Her hair is clean and hanging nicely around her face. She’s even wearing a little makeup. She looks like a completely different person, while also at the same time looking like a version of herself that she thought died a long time ago.

She’s not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that she’s resurrected her.

Her phone dings before she can ask what she wants to ask, a text from Dick sitting in her notifications: Have fun tonight. But not too much fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. 😉

She sends him back a middle finger emoji, before looking back at the mirror again. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Me like this?”

“Does it feel weird? Like it’s not you?”

“A bit.” Jessica frowns as she tries to parse through her feelings. “But not in a bad way? Just in a way where it feels too close to putting on a costume, but believe or not, I knew how to dress before…”

Kilgrave. Before her world became no choices but his.

“Mmmm.” Gillian moves to sit next to her in front of the mirror. “It can take some time to find what feels like you again. But the important thing is: do you like the way you look right now?”

“I do,” Jessica nods. “And I really appreciate you taking pity on me.”

“Girl, I’ve been wanting to tear apart your wardrobe since I met you. This was a treat for me. Almost makes up for me not getting a bonus last year.” Jessica opens her mouth before Gillian holds up a finger. “Key word there being almost. Now get out of here or you’re going to be late.”

Jessica nods, before getting up and making her way to the door. Time to do this.

* * * * *

Despite all the time she and Bruce have spent together, she’s only been to the manor a few times, usually for business. There were a few times when he was recovering from getting shot that she would come to spend time with him, but Dick and Jason usually crashed those moments. Now she’s here, and they’re going to have the entire place to themselves. And that in itself is a fresh adventure, and she’s excited to undertake it.

She makes her way up to the front door, ringing the bell as she glances down at her watch. Jessica’s a little early, fortunately, so has the time to take a deep breath and gather her thoughts. She can do this. She can go on a date. Bruce isn’t expecting her to be anyone but herself.

He wouldn’t have asked her if he was.

She rings the bell and waits, letting the silence settle around her. Footsteps sound on the other side, until the door opens and Bruce is standing on the other side. He smiles, his eyes taking her in as he does.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she smiles. “Clean up pretty good, right?”

He laughs before nodding. “Yeah, you do.”

“You look pretty good yourself.”

He studies her for another moment and she feels them hanging in this moment, between the before and after, and for all that she wants to stay here where it’s comfortable, she also can’t help but want to lean forward into what’s coming next.

“C’mon in.” Bruce steps aside, and without hesitation, she follows.

If there’s anything Bruce has learned over the years, it’s that context matters.

People in one context work well together, but put them in another and it might not be as effective. Sometimes, it’s difficult to transition from one space to another. For the brief moments when he and Jessica are walking from his front door to the dining room, he wonders if this is a relationship that will survive. It’s not that the feelings aren’t there. He knows they are; the timing has just never been right.

Now the timing could be right, but part of him isn’t sure.

“You’re thinking very loudly.”

Bruce tosses a wry glance over his shoulder, before gesturing to the head of the dining room table. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Are you freaking out?”

He dodges the question by pouring her a glass of wine, watching as she settles into the seat with a teasing glance.

“Because it’s okay if you’re freaking out. From what I’m told, it’s a normal, even healthy part of dating.”

“From what you’re told?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I think you and I both know that I haven’t fallen into the ‘normal’ or ‘healthy’ end of the dating pool in a long time.”

“Fair enough.” He finishes pouring himself a glass before settling in across from her.

“What’s on your mind?”

Bruce leans back. “Transitions aren’t always easy.”

“You’re wondering if this one will be?”

“Traditional self-doubt of wondering if I’m ruining a good thing by trying to reach for something that isn’t there.” Bruce knows that he and Jessica have never truly been just friends. The pulse drawing them together has always been there, and he knows what it feels like to kiss her. But that kiss had been whiskey soaked and laden with grief after Jessica lost her mother, and it’s hard to say if that’s really the best example of what their relationship could be.

“It’s not as though we haven’t kissed before.”

“That’s not the same.”

“Is that a weird way of saying it doesn’t count?”

“I wouldn’t say that, no.” It counts, but not in the same way. “Just that was over a year ago, and things could have changed.”

Jessica blinks, almost as though she’s realizing to herself that it’s been more than a year since her mother died. Less time since she lost Trish, but still. She’s been getting herself together in some ways and coming out stronger on the other side. It’s part of the reason Bruce gave in to the impulses he’s been squashing since he’d gotten to know her.

Once those thoughts process through, however, a mischievous smirk returns to her lips as she gets up from her chair and makes her way closer. “Maybe we should get certain things out of the way first, then?”

And then she kisses him.

Certainty mixes with the tartness of the wine and it’s both everything he remembers it being and so much more. He deftly pushes his chair out slightly from the table and pulls her into his lap, all reservations banished from his mind. His hand falls along her ribs, brushing against the silky material of her shirt, but wanting to get at the skin underneath. Jessica holds the kiss for a few moments longer and then pulls back with a grin.

“See? We’ve still got it.” She gets up, but his arm snakes around her waist, keeping her close. She smirks. “I thought we were supposed to be having a date?”

“We’re unconventional,” he murmurs, before leaning in to kiss her again, the wine briefly forgotten.

The wine glasses tinkle in her hand as she makes her way across the room to the fireplace. They’re both haphazardly redressed from their mealtime interruption, but Jessica can’t say she minds. As far as she’s concerned, chaos has always been her preferred method of dating, but she knows Bruce wants something more serious.

At least in her opinion, she feels they met in the middle.

Bruce, shirtless, balances two plates as they move into the living room, settling on the couch as he trades her a plate for a wineglass. “I’m not sure Alfred is going to appreciate our letting his food sit.”

“I think he’ll just appreciate that you’re on an actual date and as long as the food is eaten, it doesn’t really matter.”

Bruce snorts, before shifting to lean back into the cushions. “I also should have figured you’d be a wildcard in that respect.”

“When Gillian says my means of dating is ‘fuck around and find out,’ she isn’t wrong.” Jessica grins. “But I want it noted that I tried.”

“You did. You agreed and dressed for an actual date.”

“Thank you.” She clinks her wineglass against his before getting ready to eat. “Are you upset that I flipped the script on things?”

Bruce gives her a small look at this because while yes, she kissed him, he’s the one who took things further. “Upset is definitely not the word I would use.”

“Just checking.” She picks up her fork and takes a bite before letting out a happy noise. “Do you think Alfred would cook for all our dates?” She’s assuming if things are going well, there will be more dates.

“I don’t think he would mind,” Bruce smirks. “But believe it or not, I do actually have some skills in the kitchen.”

Jessica looks up and raises an eyebrow. “You cook?”

“Alfred doesn’t do everything for me.”

“Yeah, but you cook?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“I’m just not sure you have the evidence to support your claims,” Jessica teases. “But I’m willing to accept any you offer.”

He nods slowly, considering his options before smiling. “Stay for breakfast, then.”

She gives a look of mock offense. “Mr. Wayne. What kind of girl do you think I am?”

He laughs. “I think the ship has long since sailed, Jones.”

“Fair enough.” She nods as she settles in closer, letting herself relax slightly against his shoulder. “But yeah, I think I can do breakfast.”

“Good.”

Soon, empty dinner plates move to the coffee table with empty glasses and Jessica moves into his lap again. “So. Should we be expecting anyone home soon?”

“I asked them to give me until lunch tomorrow.”

“Ahh, so you thought this would go well for you?”

“I had high hopes.” He leans in to kiss her and she lets the moment carry her away, ready to relax into an evening together.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, she’s ready for what comes next.

Edited 2024-05-01 00:42 (UTC)

Allison wouldn’t be here if not for Lydia.

She much prefers to be out in the woods, dealing with people as they encroach on her territory. But Lydia is very persuasive, and she will not turn her best friend down if she says she needs help.

Still, perched on the window seat of the most private room in the tavern, Allison can’t help but second guess herself as her eyes run over the people gathered. A fast-talking young man who, for a rogue, can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. A kind-eyed paladin for healing, plus Lydia’s magic and Allison’s knowledge of the forest. It certainly seems well rounded enough. But Lydia is still waiting.

“Are we all here?” she finally asks, and Lydia glances back with a small smile.

“Almost.”

Almost is not comforting, especially without more information. Almost implies that there’s something that Allison will not like, and before she can question it further, the door to the room swings open.

The moment she meets the newcomer’s eyes, she sits stock straight and shakes her head. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re kidding.”

She’s not sure if it’s good or bad that Derek Hale doesn’t seem any happier about this situation than she does. It’s hard to believe, sometimes, that a barbarian lurks under his nobleman’s clothes and fine attire, but she’s seen him in action. The pretension of pretending to be something he’s not is what irritates her the most.

Lydia holds up her hands, glancing between the two of them. “Now. I know neither of you wants to do this. But unfortunately, we need you both to make this plan work.”

“Is there something we need to know?” The tone in the rogue’s voice seems to imply that he always thinks there’s something he should know, but Allison will not be the one to give it to him. Derek’s head whips around to the unknown voice, eyes narrowing.

“Who are you?”

“Stiles. Stilinski. Hi.”

“I’m Scott,” the paladin offers. “Since we’re doing introductions.”

“Derek Hale,” he replies, but doesn’t move any closer to the table. His eyes go back to Lydia again. “If she—”

“Allison understands the importance of this mission as much as you do.”

“That doesn’t reassure me that when I’m not looking, she won’t put an arrow in my back.”

Allison scoffs. “Don’t worry, I’m not that much of a coward. If I need to, I’ll have no trouble putting it in your front.”

“Enough!” Lydia’s voice raises over the both of them. Her eyes narrow as she glances between the two of them. “I know your families have their … problems. But I need both of you for the road ahead. We will not make it to what we need to find if I don’t have the both of you. So, can you put aside your petty differences and focus on the good of the mission?”

Allison and Derek hold each other’s gazes for a long moment, and neither looks away. Neither wants to concede the ground they have. But Lydia is her best friend, and she’s certainly not going to leave her alone with Derek of all people, no matter why she thinks she needs him. She grits her teeth and nods.

“I can if he will.”

Derek says nothing, only nods.

“Good.” Lydia clasps her hands together. “Then let’s talk about the job.”

Allison tunes out as Derek takes his seat at the table, eyes focused on him and every move he makes. She doesn’t need to know much about the job—Lydia’s already explained it to her. Wizards have their ambition, and Lydia is no different. If she wants to go find this lost, powerful relic that she believes to have located, she will have Allison’s bow every step of the way. Instead of focusing on the questions that the men are asking, the wheels in her head are turning to determine why Derek.

She tunes back in just in time to hear: “So you want to begin the approach from Hale lands?”

“It’s the most direct route,” Lydia explains. “Everyone else trying to get there is going to take the long route, through the swamp to the south and then through the cursed woods. But the Hales have generously allowed us to take this convenient shortcut, provided that Derek accompany us on the rest of the expedition.”

Ah. There it is. Lydia is one for expedience and not above using her connections while she has them. Allison shouldn’t be surprised.

“Though I don’t think we agreed to—”

“Laura knows Allison is involved,” Lydia replies. “And if your sister or cousin had been available, we would have been taking them instead of you, but timing has conspired against us.”

That, again, makes Allison relax a fraction of an inch. Derek’s jaw sets in response, but he doesn’t argue. Whatever he’s after on this mission, it’s not worth upsetting the whole thing by refusing his cooperation. At least that’s … something.

Derek nods again, but it doesn’t stop the misgiving look as he glances back at Allison at the window seat. Allison meets his gaze head on, but does her best to give nothing away. She will do this for Lydia, this several week trek into the mountains, and then she will go back to her woods and never see Derek Hale again.

Seems simple enough. She can manage him for that long.

Lydia’s eyes roam over the rest of the group. “So. Now that we’re all apprised of the plan, are there questions or objections?” Silence greets her question and she nods. “Good. We’ll meet at Hale Manor in tomorrow evening, rest there and begin the following morning. Thank you all for your help.”

The men disperse from the room, heading off to get their supplies together. Derek gives her one last look before slipping out the door. Lydia turns back to Allison and asks: “Can you handle this?”

Allison takes a deep breath and shrugs. “Guess we’ll find out.”

The moment he returns to Hale manor, Derek makes a beeline for the room his sister uses as an office. His head is spinning with too many thoughts to do anything else, especially when one of those thoughts is betrayal. She knew Allison was involved in this little adventure and didn’t at least have the decency to warn him. He’s sure he’s made a great impression on everyone, not Allison and Lydia.

The door to the office is slightly ajar and she can hear voices coming from within. One, his sister, the other a local paladin that she’s been trying to convince to join their lands—or just her bed. It’s hard to tell which and Derek, honestly, does not want to know. He knows his sister is flirting; she knows she’s flirting—opinions vary on whether Parrish does, however.

Holding back his eye roll, Derek nudges the door open further and makes his presence known. “Parrish.”

“Hale.” Parrish looks up from where he’s perched on the edge of his sister’s desk, before immediately straightening into a standing position. Laura looks like she wants to shoot daggers from her eyes, and he just smiles.

“Do you have a minute? We need to talk about Lydia.”

“I was just leaving.” Parrish moves to walk away and Laura sighs, before nodding and getting up to walk him out.

“Thank you for stopping by, Jordan. Hopefully, we can get this minor matter resolved neatly.” She waits until they hear the front door close behind him before she rears back and smacks Derek on the shoulder, hard.

“Ow,” he protests.

“You interrupted.”

“You sent me to that meeting knowing Allison Argent was involved.” Getting rid of Parrish may have been a petty revenge, but it’s still a bit of revenge. “And you didn’t tell me.”

Laura sighs, before stepping away from the door and heading back to her desk. “If you knew, you wouldn’t have gone, and we need this to go well. I couldn’t risk it starting on the back foot because you did not show up.”

Derek sighs before following her in. “I would have still gone. I just wouldn’t have been happy about it.”

“What Lydia wants to do could be very lucrative for us, if it goes well. If this ruin she thinks she’s discovered is directly accessible from our lands, it’s likely that the arcane academies would like to fund a research expedition. We could make a lot of money from providing lodging as a starting point and we could use that money.” Laura leans back with a sigh. “If there had been any other option available, I would have sent them. Unfortunately, you’re all I got.”

His sister and his cousin clearly picked the worst time to run off on some kind of adventure. His eyes fix on the window over her shoulder. “She hates me. And I—”

“The war was hard for all of us. But this could be a chance to make a fresh start. I’m not saying you have to concede anything, but if you both can get through this without killing each other, then maybe it’s a step in the right direction.” She moves closer, placing her hands on his shoulders with a sigh. “I believe you can do it. You’re more diplomatic than you give yourself credit for. Just don’t let her get under your skin.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I have faith in you. Now get out of my office. We have to get the guest quarters ready for when they arrive tomorrow night.”

Derek nods dutifully and hopes this won’t get more complicated than it already is.

* * * * *

Once all the party members arrive and have eaten the evening meal, they retreat to the back patio to enjoy the evening air. Derek has been doing his best to keep himself apart, so as not to step on Allison’s toes, and she seems to do the same, but the rest of the party seems to have no such qualms—mainly Scott and Stiles.

“So,” Stiles says as he drops on one side of him, Scott on the other. “What’s the deal with you and Allison?”

Derek sighs. “Our families have hated each other for generations. There was an entire war.”

“Yeah, that’s not it.” Stiles shakes his head. “She really hates you. Like the really personal kind of hate.”

“I really don’t want to get into that.”

“Did you kill her dad?”

“No.”

“Her little old grandma?”

Derek rolls his eyes. He can’t imagine any Argent grandma being “little” or “old.” “No.”

“Her mom?”

Derek hesitates, because no. Technically he didn’t kill Victoria Argent. But his hands aren’t clean either. “No, I didn’t kill her.”

Stiles’ eyes narrow, almost as though he senses Derek is dodging the truth, and then he sighs. “Fine. So all this animosity between you, it’s just war shit?”

“Pretty much.”

“Are you planning to kill her when her back is turned?”

“No.”

“Then we’re all good.” Stiles claps him on the back and returns to the girls. Derek watches him go, before glancing over to Scott with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you have questions for the end of this interrogation?”

Scott smirks before shaking his head. “Just that we’re all in this together, man. As long as we remember that, it’s all good.”

Derek nods and hopes that eventually he’ll believe that.

The first two days on the road are uneventful—likely because it took them a full day simply to leave the Hale lands. They seem to go on forever and the forests are all impeccably cared for, to boot. She can feel it in the way the animals and the trees almost lean in to shield them, and how things feel less secure when they leave.

Then again, Laura Hale keeps several druids in her employ. Maybe Allison shouldn’t be surprised.

The second day is a little harder, but they sidestep any genuine danger. When they make camp for the night, they do so in shifts. Stiles and Lydia take the first, and Scott takes the final, leaving Allison and Derek in the middle. Allison wants to protest, but Lydia’s made a schedule that rotates, so Allison can’t complain about getting things out of the way early.

Mostly they sit in silence, listening to the sound of the trees. Her raven perches in a nearby tree, adding a set of eyes in the darkness. Mostly, Derek stares forward into the night, but halfway through, he throws a glance her way.

“Can we talk?”

“Do we have to?” Allison doesn’t have much interest in what he has to say, all things considered. Especially if there’s an interest in all of them working together.

“I think we might.”

She grits her teeth before putting away the dagger she’s sharpening and turning to face him. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

Derek takes a deep breath before turning to face her. “I don’t want to spend this entire mission looking over my shoulder every five minutes or worrying about you killing me in my sleep. I don’t think you want that either.”

“I already said—”

“I know what we said. But given where things stand between us, I don’t think that you weren’t thinking it either.”

Allison glances away, willing enough to give him that much. Just because they’re working on this job together doesn’t mean that she’s letting her guard down. What is she going to do when they’re on separate shifts?

“I think we need to clear the air.”

“Clear the air? You think that’s going to solve anything?”

“I don’t even know what I did! You don’t treat any other Hale this way, so why me? What did I do?”

She stares at him, disbelieving, but the longer she stares, the more she realizes that he’s telling the truth. He truly doesn’t know what he did to her. But how could he not know? He was there, wasn’t he?

“You killed my mother.”

Derek startles, almost recoiling from the suggestion. She can see the wheels in his head turning, trying to parse that statement into something that makes sense. “When I last saw your mother, she was alive.”

“Really? Because when I saw her, she was dead. With your teeth in her shoulder and her heart ripped out of her chest.” Werewolves are all the same, in the end. They can’t control the damage they do and don’t know when to stop.

Derek blinks, hands coming up as though he’s asking her to slow down. “Your mother attacked me first. It was during the war, and she had another member of our pack. Laura sent me to get them back, and Victoria attacked. I defended myself. I bit her, yes. But when I left, she was still alive.”

Allison’s eyes blink back tears, and she can hear her grandfather’s words in the back of her mind. How a bite is as good as death anyway, so he might as well have been responsible. But from what Gerard told her, Victoria had been alone. She had done nothing wrong. When did this second werewolf come into play?

“I don’t believe you,” she says tentatively, though her voice wavers more than she’d like. Doubt is creeping in to her understanding of how her mother died, but there’s nothing she can do to dissect it now. They have a job to do, and now she’s compromised on how she needs to do it.

Derek’s shoulders slump, trying to figure out how to fix this, when he glances over at Scott. “I can show you. Scott has a spell. When he wakes for his shift, we can—”

“And you expect me to just trust that it’s a memory, not an illusion?”

Derek looks at her, pleading. “I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how your mother died, Allison. But it wasn’t me.”

“Who was the second wolf?”

“Boyd.”

“Boyd?” That seems to strain credulity even further. She knows Boyd. He’s one of the largest wolves she’s ever seen. The idea of her mother—

“She poisoned him with wolfsbane in order to subdue him. We almost lost him.”

Allison blinks before getting to her feet. “I can’t. I need—”

“Allison, wait—”

“I need some space. Please don’t follow me.”

To his credit, he doesn’t. Allison heads off into the trees, needing some space from the light of the fire as she tries to catch her breath. She moves further into the trees, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths as she tries to process this new information. In the years since her mother’s death, she’s never questioned her grandfather’s story. Even when she’s questioned him, when she’s learned how far he’ll go just to be the one in control, she never questioned that.

Maybe she should have. But her father didn’t question it either. Was he, too, lying to keep her anger fresh and festering?

There’s only one person she could ask for the answer to that question. Boyd was Derek’s pack, but he had always been solid. Though they were on opposite sides of a war, he treated her with respect and always looked her in the eye. Until he didn’t.

Lydia taught her the ability to send a message over great distances and she stumbles her fingers through the motions as she casts it. She knows it’s late, and he’s likely sleeping, but with the tears streaming down her face, it can’t wait.

“I’m sorry for contacting you like this, but I need to know. Did my mother try to kill you?”

Silence stretches each second between the end of the message and his answer almost interminably, before his deep voice echoes in her mind. “Yes.”

Her hands shake even more. She sends again: “And when Derek rescued you, she was alive?”

“Yes, she was.”

She manages one more message. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Allison doesn’t wait for the response. She doesn’t deserve one, if she’s entirely honest. The things she could have done if things had been different…she doesn’t even want to think about it. She swipes shaking hands across her cheeks and turns to find her way back to camp, when a pungent odor draws her attention.

Before she can even process what it could be, something slimy wraps around her ankle, yanking her down on to the ground and dragging her backwards. As her fingers scramble for purchase on the ground, she does the only thing she can do as her breath comes back to her.

She screams.

Allison’s scream breaks the air, and Derek is already on his feet.

Allison is a ranger. Her modus operandi is to move through the woods with as little obtrusion as possible. If she’s screaming, it means she didn’t have any other option for getting their attention. His hand moves to Lydia’s shoulder, shaking her quickly as he gets to his feet.

“What?” she startles as she wakes.

“Something’s wrong.” She can handle waking the rest. Derek grabs his axe and charges into the woods in the direction Allison came.

She hadn’t gone far. Her scent is easy enough to follow, and it’s quickly overwhelmed by a strong, fetid odor. He slows and tries to hone his senses, trying to find which way they went and slows on instinct, prowling through the woods and looking for the trap.

Footsteps come up quietly from behind him, and Lydia appears at his shoulder, Scott and Stiles not far behind. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I heard Allison scream.”

“What was she doing out here on her own?”

Derek glances back to her, eyebrow raised, because why does she think? Lydia tips her head to the side, eyes widening.

“You told her? Out here?!”

“She asked! And I was trying to work through what happened.” Derek’s eyes narrowed. “Did you know that was what she thought?”

“I’m sure whatever’s happening here is very important, but I would argue that slightly more important is finding Allison,” Stiles interrupts, glancing between the two of them. “Do you know which way the thing took her?”

Derek sighs, taking a deep breath and trying not to gag on the stench. “I think it’s heading west. But it’s hard to tell. The scent is overwhelming.”

“Okay,” Scott nods. “Then let’s head west first.”

He takes the lead, Stiles close behind, with Lydia and Derek bringing up the rear. Lydia lets a bit of a distance build between them and the other men, before she speaks again.

“I knew. She’s my best friend, of course I knew.”

“And you never told her she was wrong?”

Lydia sets her jaw. “I didn’t know if she was wrong. But I knew enough about you to know it was likely in self-defense. When she was grieving, I didn’t feel like pointing that out would be helpful.” Lydia tips her head to the side curiously. “So you didn’t kill Victoria?”

“No.”

“So who did?”

“I don’t know.” Derek grits his teeth. “Her father-in-law has never been fond of my family or werewolves, and I bit her.”

Lydia nods again. “Did she believe you?”

“I don’t know.” Before he can elaborate, another scream splits the air, though this one doesn’t seem human.

“We’re getting close,” Scott shouts back. “Move!”

Derek and Lydia share another glance before picking up their feet to catch up. They round the corner and spot Allison, driving a dagger straight through one of the slimy tentacles. Derek rears back, lifting his axe and flinging it to sink into the slimy glut of the creature.

Allison’s head snaps back, relaxing as she catches sight of her party. Daggers fly from Stiles and Scott draws his sword. Lydia is generating a spell and Derek dashes forward, clamping his hand around Allison’s and pulling her back.

He yanks her up to her feet and looks her over. “Are you good?”

Allison doesn’t respond at first, one hand landing on his shoulder to steady her. “I’m good to kill this thing.”

It makes sense. Everything else is too much to handle right now. But they can kill a monster. Derek nods, before charging back in, reaching for the handle of his axe to pull it out of the wound. The monster gives another frustrated scream and Derek swings the axe back around again to do more damage. He lets the anger he spends so long holding at bay flow through him and into the target.

In the end, the battle itself is a blur, and eventually the slimy creature collapses to the ground. Derek’s shoulders slump as he wipes the edge of his blade on the ground. Scott holds a hand over the gash on his arm, healing it with a soft glow, before glancing at Allison.

“Do you need healing?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “I’m okay.” There’s a small pause of silence before she nods. “Thank you for coming for me.”

“Of course,” Stiles says with a smirk. “We’d be a pretty sucky adventuring party if we didn’t.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Allison glances over to meet Derek’s eyes and takes a deep breath before glancing back over her shoulder. “We should probably get back to camp.”

“Yes,” Lydia agrees. “I need another nap.”

The five of them fall into step to head back to camp. Whatever feelings linger, they are tomorrow’s problems.

It’s another day before Allison and Derek are on watch together again, and they have resolved none of the confusion lingering between them. They had been focused on sleep, then travel, and things encountered while traveling, never mind the fact that what they have to discuss, Allison isn’t sure she’s comfortable with anyone else overhearing.

Though she’s sure that Scott and Stiles have questions. She’s just not inclined to answer any of them at the moment until she knows more.

It doesn’t help matters that Derek seems to be intent on giving her space to process. Despite forcing the conversation the night before (something she’s grateful for, even if it didn’t end well), Derek’s resolved to let what comes next happen on her terms, and she needs to decide how she wants that to happen. She too has so many more questions, but she does not know how to ask them.

But she knows at least where to start this conversation.

“Thank you. For coming for me.”

It’s a quiet admission, but with his werewolf hearing, he doesn’t miss it. He turns his eyes from the gamy meat in hand to face her, and she can see the guilt sitting in them.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.”

Allison gives him a small look. “Do you honestly think I would have let you stop me?”

Derek snorts. “Fair point. Did it help? Before the slime creature showed up, anyway.”

“Kind of.” Allison pauses. “I talked to Boyd.”

Derek’s brow furrows before he blinks and realizes. “With magic.”

“Yes,” she laughs. “He confirmed what you said. So I’m sorry for putting all the blame on you in a situation I clearly didn’t understand.”

“It’s okay,” Derek nods. “Losing your mom is hard. It messes you up. I’m just glad things didn’t escalate too far before we cleared it up.”

Allison nods before wrapping her arms around herself as she stares out into the darkness. “I still have a lot of questions, though I don’t think you can answer them. Something must have changed between her leaving you and where I found her. I need to know what actually happened to her.”

“Maybe I can help.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You want to help me infiltrate my very anti-Hale family looking for answers about what happened to my dead mother when the story is you killed her?”

Derek considers that explanation for a moment before nodding. “Okay, yeah, honestly that’s a bad idea, but … that also wasn’t what I was thinking.”

Allison turns to him curiously. “Then what were you thinking? Because from what I can tell, we don’t have very many options other than me going it alone.”

“I was thinking we could ask your aunt.”

Allison’s back straightens and he can see Derek’s face slowly slide into a mild panic at the idea that he may have revealed another unintentional family secret that he shouldn’t have. “Which aunt?”

She doesn’t have many. In fact, she only has the one, and she—

“Kate.” Derek’s voice doesn’t sound hesitant. “Did I just say something—”

“Kate also died during the war.”

Kate Argent, Gerard’s uncontrollable wild child, was the spark that lit the flame. She returned to the compound, bleeding from a clear werewolf's bite. She succumbed to the poison, and Allison’s father and Gerard resolved it by going after the wolf that did it—presumably Peter Hale, Derek’s uncle. It baffles her that Derek can talk about this painful part of their shared family history so casually, or with such a clear look of confusion on his face.

“Right. That was their cover story.”

“Cover story?” Allison tries to keep her voice down, but she can’t help but have it come out in a bit of a shriek. “They needed a cover story.”

“Yeah, because your grandfather is a psychopath.”

Allison’s jaw works for a moment, but she can’t entirely say she has a counterargument for that. Gerard was a large part of the reason she ran away into the woods and became a ranger. He’s always terrified her, but she’s never had reason to believe that he would hurt one of his own. That’s why she so easily believed him when he told her about her mother.

“Still, faking their own deaths seems excessive.”

“Peter is a very excessive person,” Derek shrugs. “And they wanted to be together.”

“Huh. Is she Malia’s—”

“No. That’s … a much longer story for another time. But I can send word to them when we get back from the tomb. Maybe they’ll have more context for you.”

“Right.” Allison isn’t sure what to believe, and her head is spinning. It will help when she can see Kate in person for herself and determine how she feels. But for now, she simply takes a deep breath and turns her attention back out to the surrounding woods.

“So we’re okay?” Derek asks softly, and her eyes draw back to his again. There’s an earnestness in them that takes her aback, and she nods.

“Yeah. We’re okay.” At least for now. “I just have so many questions and don’t know how to get answers.”

“I wish I had them to give them to you now.”

“Me too.” Allison sighs. “But hopefully I’ll have them soon.”

All she has to do now is to survive the trip to the tomb. Should be easy enough.

She hopes.

Edited 2024-05-13 13:36 (UTC)

Edited 2024-05-14 00:38 (UTC)

Scott is worried that Stiles and Lydia may not make it out of this little expedition alive, likely because they killed each other.

At first, the worry was Derek and Allison, though they seem to have worked out their issues, mostly. Which, in itself, is a relief. But then Stiles and Lydia started passive aggressively sniping, and he’s back to being concerned again. He sighs as he falls in step next to Allison, listening to the two of them squabble about strategy and the next steps.

“I warned him she liked to be in charge.”

“Apparently that warning didn’t take,” Allison sighs, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Do you think that they’ll get us into trouble?”

“I don’t know. Do they fight like this when they’re on watch together?”

Allison shrugs because, of course, she doesn’t know. She’s sleeping. She glances over to Derek and raises an eyebrow—Derek with his werewolf ears likely picks up things they don’t. But his response is simply to shrug, so if they are bickering at night, it’s not loud enough to disturb him. At least there’s that.

“Maybe we should switch up the rotation. Give them a break from each other?” Scott glances hopefully between the two of them. “I know we usually like to have some muscle on the tail end, but…”

“I can take your shift,” Derek nods. “And you two can split Lydia and Stiles between you?”

Scott assumes that they’ll just split things along best friend lines, but before he can confirm that, he sees Stiles make a strangling gesture behind Lydia’s back and he surges forward to intervene.

“Hey, Stiles, why don’t we scout ahead a bit?” Stiles’ head snaps in Scott’s direction before nodding with a sigh. As they jog ahead, Scott gives him a bit of a look. “Dude.”

“What? She was getting on my last nerve.”

“Yeah. And if you kill her, we don’t get paid.”

“I don’t know. I might find killing her equally satisfying as a job well done.” Scott continues to stare at him, and Stiles huffs. “She just drives me up a wall.”

“Yeah, buddy. I know.” Scott shakes his head as they continue to head into the woods. “We’ll figure it out.”

* * * * *

When they make camp for the night, Scott takes the shift with Lydia and Allison with Stiles. Scott figures that will appease him—he can pester her with questions about the rift between the Hales and the Argents for the few hours that they’re taking watch. Scott and Lydia take the first shift, sitting quietly around the fire, Scott caring for his weapons and Lydia writing in her journal. As he slides his hammer back into place near his belongings, he hears Lydia’s voice behind him.

“So on a scale of one to ten, how scared were you that Stiles and I were going to kill each other while you were sleeping?”

She makes a habit of being direct. Scott will give her that much. He squints slightly before tipping his head to the side. “Six on your end. Maybe an eight for Stiles.”

“Six?” Lydia raises an eyebrow. “That high?”

He smirks. “Stiles has been my best friend all my life. I’ve watched people with cooler composure than yours lose it much faster.”

Lydia laughs. “Unfortunately for me, I still need both of you when we get to the temple tomorrow. Especially him regarding finding traps.”

“You expect there being a lot of traps.”

“I would be disappointed if there weren’t,” Lydia smirks as she closes her journal. “If this is to be a proper adventure, there should be some thrills, no?”

Scott laughs. “That’s one way of putting it. I’d prefer we just all get through this safely.”

“I suppose you would.” Lydia moves closer to sit next to him. “Though I appreciate you taking the risk with me all the same.”

“It helps that you paid very well.”

She laughs. “Academic grants are powerful. They provide you with a lot of options.”

“Have you given any thought to what protections there may be?”

Lydia takes a deep breath before reaching for her journal again, flipping to the page with her notes on it. “I have some thoughts. The Blade of the Moonmaiden is incredibly powerful and incredibly treasured. I’m hoping that any warriors there will be reasoned with—the Blade itself isn’t truly what I’m after.”

“Then what are you after? The credit?”

“The story,” she sighs. “So many of these ancient relics, we simply … don’t know what happened to these people in the end. Why their stories became lost. I want to bring the Moonmaiden’s champion back into the light—even if I’m the only one who cares.”

“If it helps, I don’t think you’re the only one who cares.” Scott glances back over his shoulder to where Allison is sleeping. “I doubt you’re paying her. She came because she loves you.”

“She did,” Lydia smiles. “She’s the best friend a girl could have. But I don’t begrudge you for being here for money. Sometimes simple transactions keep these things clean. You’ll get paid when we’re done and you’ll go on your way, and we’ll all be better for it.”

Scott hesitates, not sure what to make of that idea. That had been the idea, once upon a time, but now that they’re in it, Scott can’t say he wants to just slip away when all is said and done. He likes Lydia, even if Stiles doesn’t. He likes her intelligence, her drive, her understanding of the world, even if one would think those feelings are beyond someone searching for glory in academic prowess.

He’s not sure if he will be better for it if Lydia is gone. But how to articulate that, he’s not sure.

Lydia glances over at the hourglass they’ve been using to measure their watch, and nods as the last of the sand slips through into the bottom.

“Suppose it's time to wake our relief.” She pushes up to her feet to go rouse Allison, and he turns to do the same to Stiles. No matter how hard he tries, however, he can’t quite shake the squirming feeling in his stomach that this job has become more than he initially expected.

Stiles blinks over at him and frowns. “What? What’s wrong with your face? Did she say something?”

He pushes up, and Scott shakes his head before pushing him back down again. “No, it’s fine. I’m just tired.”

“Uh-huh.” Stiles shrugs as he slides into a sitting position on his bedroll. “Look, I know we need the money, but we just have to get through this job and be gone. We don’t need this know it all telling us what to do forever.”

Scott’s face falls slightly, and Stiles’ eyes narrow. “She did say something, didn’t she?”

“Dude.”

“I’m serious—”

“Stiles. It’s fine.” He moves to his own bedroll. “She said nothing. I actually like her.”

He can feel Stiles’ eyes boring into his back as he processes that information. Scott just lets out a breath as he closes his eyes and tries to drift off to sleep again. He doesn’t notice, however, that Stiles’ eyes weren’t the only ones watching him.

Lydia stands at the mouth of the tomb that she’s been searching for her entire academic career, and she takes a deep breath. She knows she should savor this, that they’ve gotten here a full two days ahead of the competition, which means she has the time to savor it. She also wants to rush in there and tear the tomb apart until she finds what she’s looking for.

Scott falls in step next to her, staring up at the intricate reliefs above them. As his eyes wander over the delicate designs, she turns to him with a small smile. “I don’t think I ever asked if you were religious.”

“I’m not, not really. But I always did like the Moonmaiden.”

“Me too. I mean, people expect me to lean towards gods of knowledge or magic, but there’s something about her.” Something that feels warm and welcoming in the way the gods of academia often don’t. “I think if there were one to fall into, it would be her.”

“Me too,” Scott smiles, before turning his eyes towards the entry way ahead. “So. Are you ready?”

Lydia takes a deep breath and knows she can’t just stand at the threshold forever. She nods, before glancing back over her shoulder to find the rest of her party.

“Stiles! Time to do what I’m paying you for.”

Stiles turns back to her and makes a face, grumbling as he makes his way down to lead the way ahead of them. “No one move past me unless I say so.”

She and Scott share a glance, before turning and following down behind him, with Derek and Allison right behind. Time to find out of all of her research is worth something.

* * * * *

Stiles is worth every penny she’s paying, as he can pick out most of the side traps. There are a few fights with creatures that had snuck into the tomb as it’s fallen into disrepair, but mostly, they’re moving through with little struggle.

She should have known that things wouldn’t stay that simple.

They make their way quietly through the tunnels, searching for the altar room that lies at the center. As they move to the threshold, they are all surprised to find a person already there, kneeling at the altar, with a wreath of moonlight glowing around her hair. Lydia stares at her for a moment, fascinated, but when Scott and Stiles flank out from her side, looking to give themselves an advantage as they come out from the side, but Lydia throws out her arms to stop them.

She’s not entirely sure this is a threat yet.

Derek and Allison take the hint and wait silently for her signal that they should move forward. But before any of them can say anything, the kneeling woman rises and turns to face them, eyes white with moonlight.

“You don’t belong here.”

“No, we don’t.” Lydia can admit that much. This place is for the dead and those that have long fallen out of history. “But we’re not here to cause any harm.”

“No harm?” The woman’s head tips to the side. “You just want to loot the insides and leave it empty.”

“I am here for proof, not for looting.” Lydia holds her journal to her chest. “I’m searching for the Blade of the Moonmaiden.”

The woman’s smile widens, and she pushes back pieces of her robes to reveal the sword on her hip. “Here she is. What do you wish for her?”

Lydia frowns as she considers her. “The Blade is a person.”

“She is.”

“Why are you here?”

The Blade steps to the side, revealing the coffin resting behind her. The surrounding stone is crumbling, but the coffin itself is intact. Lydia can read the sorrow of the story without her having to say it.

“I just want to be with my love. But so long as I am the Blade, I cannot escape this life.”

“Maybe someone else should be the Blade. So you can finally rest.” Lydia doesn’t know who that should be, given that they don’t exactly have a new champion of the Moonmaiden at their disposal, but she feels they at least should offer.

“Do either of you walk with the Moonmaiden’s blessing?”

Scott and Lydia look at each other, before Lydia turns and looks at Derek. She knows that the Moonmaiden favors werewolves, but are barbarians really the best fit for her goals? But before Lydia can attempt to put that forward, she hears Scott speak next to her.

“Not yet, but I’m willing to try.” The Blade turns to him imperiously, and Scott continues. “I’m not one of her devoted, but I know enough to know that she wouldn’t have wanted this for you. So I’m happy to carry the blade so you can rest until a true champion is found.”

The Blade’s eyes close, and moonlight slices through some cracks in the rubble, coming to rest on the emblem of Scott’s paladin armor. When the Blade opens her eyes again, she smiles.

“The Moonmaiden accepts your offer.” She draws the blade from her waist and places it into Scott’s hands. Before he can withdraw to take it, she clamps her hands over his and gives them a squeeze. “Thank you.”

Scott nods and then turns to the rest of the group. “We should go.” The group turns to follow, heading up the stairs and back into the tunnels, with Lydia at the back end. Just as she reaches the doorway to the altar room, she turns back once again, and sees the Blade collapsed across the coffin of her lover.

With a small smile, she turns to leave them to their peace.

Edited 2024-05-16 01:48 (UTC)

Scott sits by the fire the night after they leave, the Moonmaiden’s sword balanced in his lap. The blade picks up the firelight with a soft glow that turns silver instead of red or orange. It’s an excellent sword, that much he could tell already. The balance is perfect, and he can feel the way it fits neatly into his hand.

“Are you sure about this, buddy?” Stiles asks, eyeing the blade skeptically.

“Not like I have much of a choice now.” He can feel a soft jingle on his shoulder that says it’s wrong. He always has a choice, but Scott made a promise to the previous Blade, and he keeps his word, if nothing else.

Stiles still doesn’t look convinced that this is the best idea Scott has ever made, but the decision is made, so there’s nothing they can do about it now. “So what’s next? We track down temples of the Moon Maiden until we find someone that fits the bill?”

“It’d be a place to start? But champions are complicated.” They are forged in moments of opportunity, not pre-made in temples. Scott knows, though, that Stiles does better with a plan, so he’s willing to let him strategize about it if it makes him feel better.

“Are you looking for company?”

Both men’s eyes snap to Lydia’s presence next to them at the fireside. They both blink at her in surprise, and she straightens, holding her journal to her chest.

“You don’t have to,” Scott interrupts before she continues, before glancing back to Stiles. He knows they don’t get along, and with only Scott for a buffer that can’t be pleasant. “We can handle this on our own.”

“I’m well aware. But as I’m the one who spearheaded this expedition, I want to see it through to the end. So if you’re going in search of the next Blade—” The way she says it doesn’t ring true to Scott, as though maybe she’s thinking what he has, that the next Blade has already been found, they just don’t know it yet. “—then I want to document the quest for its conclusion.”

Stiles’ eyes narrow into a glare. “So this is for academia.”

“Isn’t everything?” she replies blithely. “Besides, Allison is going to be tied up in family things that I’m not invited to. I’m a message away if she needs me, but she and Derek need to handle this on their own, so I would much rather be productive over worrying about her.” She pauses, before glancing back at Stiles. “Also, I think Stiles and I might clash much less if I’m not the one in charge.”

There’s an edge to her words that shows that unlike a certain rogue, Lydia can take instruction when she’s not the one in control, but the implications of that seem to fly over Stiles’ head.

“Yes. We probably will.” Stiles gets up, clapping Scott on the shoulder before heading off to talk to Derek and Allison, likely trying to find out what secrets they’re holding. What family thing is so important that Lydia can’t go with them. Scott inches over, giving her space to settle in next to him, before looking over with a smile.

“I’m glad you’re coming with us.”

“Are you?” she asks as she moves to take the offered seat. “I wasn’t sure if you’d appreciate a tag along.”

“You mean having company that’s not Stiles?” He teases. He loves his best friend, but it’s because he loves his best friend that he also knows he can be a lot. “It’s nice to have a buffer sometimes, even if I wouldn’t trade him for the world. But also, I’d like to get to know you more, as someone other than the boss.”

Scott wants them to be friends, allies, and if nothing else, Lydia has connections that may prove useful. All good reasons for her to come with them.

“Well, I’ll try my best to make myself useful and not slow things down. It’s been a while since I’ve spent this much time in the world, but I’ve missed it.”

“The world is better than books?”

“It is when the world has answers you can’t find in books.” She glances over at him with a small smile. “People too.”

That makes Scott smile, but before he can elaborate further, he notices the look that Derek is giving Stiles, and he winces. “I better go interfere before he gets himself killed.”

Lydia laughs before shaking her head. “Are you sure you want him to be in charge?”

Scott glances back. “Do you want to spend the next however-long fighting with him about it?”

Lydia holds up her hands and nods. “Fair enough.”

* * * * *

They take another two days to cross the threshold into the safety of the Hale lands, and when they do a meal and a hot bath is waiting for them. Laura is a very gracious host, eager to hear all about their adventure, and preoccupies most of Lydia’s attention. But it gives Scott and Stiles a chance to look for a map, figuring where they might head out from here once they were done recouping from the journey.

Derek and Allison are sitting opposite the table from them when two women in similar leathers to Derek stride up to the table.

“So you’re the rogue?” the shorter of the two says, looking at Stiles, and Stiles looks up with a frown.

“Who the hell are you?”

“My sister,” Derek offers. “Cora.”

“Oh.” Stiles sits back and studies her more carefully. “What’s the job?”

“Friends at the university uncovered an old secret society hide out, or so they theorize. Infested with monsters, though, so they asked us to help them clear it out. We need a rogue, though, for traps.”

“Why do people think finding traps is all we’re good for?” Stiles asks and Cora shrugs.

“Usually because you are. Are you in or not?”

“How much?”

“Hundred gold a piece.”

Stiles lets out a low whistle. “Universities truly do have deep pockets. Alright, me and Scott are on board.”

“And me,” Lydia volunteers as she makes her way back. “I said I was coming with you and that includes all side quests.”

Cora looks like she’s about to protest when Derek cuts her off. “Actually, we might need Malia.” He gestures to the taller of the two women. Malia looks confused and Cora looks annoyed, but after a silent conversation between the two cousins, Malia’s eyes widened.

“Oh. You need me for that.”

“Yeah.”

Cora huffs. “Fine. Looks like I’ll need the muscle.” She passes over the contracts the university provided her for each of them to sign. “We leave at first light.” She then turns to walk away and as Scott signs his contract, he notices that Stiles’ eyes are very much watching her walk.

And then drifting over to Derek, who is fixing him with a glare.

“Oh, this should be fun.”

Edited 2024-05-17 00:49 (UTC)

Twenty-five years ago…

Kate watches from the trees as the Hales arrive at Gevaudan.

Talia at the head, the alpha, leading the way to meet the rest of the group. Peter, her brother and right hand, trailing not far behind, eyes on their surroundings, looking for traps. Smart. A young girl lingers at the end. Kate assumes that’s Laura, the heir. She seems almost too young to be at a meeting like this, but Kate’s mother always says experience is how you learn. Talia must come from a similar school.

“Talia,” Amelie greets her, arms out. “Welcome to Gevaudan.”

Kate’s eyes slide up from her mother to where her father stands at the head of the stairs. She can already see the wheels in his mind turning, trying to find the angles and avenues. Kate knows part of him resents the fact that his mother designated his wife, rather than him, her heir. She also knows that if it were her father handling this moment of diplomacy, it wouldn’t be very diplomatic.

Gerard’s never had the patience for werewolves, or weapons he couldn’t use. The latter is likely why he has little patience for Kate.

After a soft conversation at the door, the Hale delegation is swept inside, followed by Gerard and Kate’s brother, Chris. Eventually, only Amelie remains and her eyes dart to the tree where Kate is hiding.

“Katherine,” she calls, before gesturing with two fingers for her to come. Apparently, Kate will not miss out on any of her training, either.

* * * * *

Peter Hale is not what she expects out of a werewolf envoy. She sits across from him and Laura as Talia and her mother speak, and spends most of her time studying him. Most werewolves she’s met have been barbarians, or at least fighters. Peter carries himself as a whisper rather than a weapon, even when sitting still in plain view.

Rogue, if Kate has to hazard a guess. Someone who’s good at collecting and distributing information, and attacking when their prey is unaware. Interesting, especially with someone who’s sitting at a diplomatic table. Peter seems to be equally aware of her, and she can’t help but feel a little thrill at that. Good. Kate’s still at the age where she likes to believe herself a threat, and it helps if other people believe that too.

Eventually, Peter leans forward to meet her eyes. “So. You’re the next heir, rather than your brother?”

“Argent inheritance passes through the daughters,” Kate says, straightening as it feels like he’s fishing for her validity. Yes, Chris is older, but Amelie has been grooming her since she was old enough to know how. “So does your family.”

“The daughters also are the oldest,” Peter argues. “So there’s little debate in that area. And your mother isn’t an Argent by blood, so why not just give it to Christopher’s … lovely wife?”

Kate grits her teeth. “My mother was named heir because there were no blood Argents to choose from. She’s named me hers. It will be me.”

“This bothers you, doesn’t it? People questioning your validity?”

“I don’t know why it’s anyone else’s concern.”

“Well, if we’re going to be allies, we should look to the future. Ensuring that this treaty isn’t just going to be torn up because future leaders of the family aren’t … compatible.”

Kate’s eyes narrow as she leans in to meet him. “Are you saying you’re concerned about my temperament?”

“I’ve heard things. That you enjoy stabbing people who piss you off?”

Kate rolls her eyes. “If a man can’t control his wandering hands, then he clearly needs to be better trained. And I never do permanent damage.”

There’s an intrigued twinkle in his eyes that she can’t place—does that delight him, or is she giving him ammunition against her?

“That’s fair, I suppose. Sometimes the road to learning respect is painful.”

“And what about you?” she raises an eyebrow. “Should we be concerned about your temperament?”

He raises an eyebrow. “I won’t be in charge.”

“Not directly, no. But a right hand is a powerful thing. And I’ve heard you have your ways of being persuasive. And if Laura is young when she inherits—”

“Can we not talk about my mother dying when she’s directly down the table from us?” Laura interrupts, the young teenager’s eyes narrowing.

“Your uncle saw fit to speak about mine.”

“Yes, well, my mother often says we shouldn’t aspire to sink to sink to his level.”

Kate laughs, more so at the flustered look that crosses Peter’s face than the words themselves, though she can’t help but agree. She turns her attention more directly to Laura. “I think we’ll get along well.” She seems pleased by that assessment, though Peter’s eyes narrow.

“That only holds if the treaty holds. And I can’t say I trust your father.”

Kate gives a brief glance down the table to Gerard, wondering if he’s heard that, though if he has, he doesn’t seem to react. By the time her eyes come back to Peter again, he can see the secret hiding in her gaze. She isn’t particularly trusting of her father, either.

He doesn’t say it out loud, but he changes his regard for her. She doesn’t know Peter Hale well yet, but she can tell from his expression—they might work together after all.

Edited 2024-05-17 15:11 (UTC)

Fifteen years ago…

“I need you to go to Geuvadan.”

The magical message echoes in Peter’s mind, and he winces. While it’s true, he’s close to the Argent stronghold and could get there quickly, he has other priorities. Corrine is slipping through his fingers with his daughter and he can’t let them disappear.

“I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Amelie Argent is dead.”

That brings him up cold. He heard she was ill, but sources indicated she would pull through. If she’s dead, then things were about to get very complicated in the Argent house. All the more reason for him not to involve himself.

“How tragic. I will send a condolence card, but I’m not sure why this warrants my presence.”

“Because I can’t get there fast enough, and someone needs to be there to support Kate.”

“And you choose me for this task?”

“Unfortunately, needs must.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to reason his way out of this. He doesn’t want to lose the time in searching for Malia. All his leads are falling apart, and can’t afford to waste time on diplomacy. “Talia—”

“I know, Peter. If I could send anyone else, I would, and I still have Marin coordinating with allies to see what we can find. But I need you there. Something about this doesn’t smell right.”

Peter takes a deep breath, knowing it’s a lost cause.

“It’s one day. I only need one day.”

“Alright. Fine. I can be there by noon.”

“Thank you, Peter. We’ll find her.”

Peter can’t help but feel that’s a promise his sister won’t be able to keep.

* * * * *

Geuvadan has a solemn air to it as he makes his way up the drive. He remembers Beacon Hills having a similar feeling when his mother passed, before Talia took control in her own right. It will pass, but it shows how much of a loss the passing of Amelie Argent truly is.

He also can’t help but feel the tension the moment he steps on the ground. The way the guards eye him as he makes his way to the front door says this alliance may not make it long past the matriarch’s death if the patriarch has anything to say about it.

He knocks on the door, and Chris is the one who answers, meeting Peter’s eyes with confusion. “Peter.”

“On behalf of the Hale pack, we wanted to send our deepest condolences.”

“You got here quickly.”

“I was in the area.” The other man lets him inside, and Peter catches sight of a head of dark curls darting into another room out of view. He blinks in surprise. “Is that Allison?”

“It is.”

The last time he had seen her, Allison had been barely a toddler. The speed at which children grow and change had a way of making time feel like a lie. He can attest to that in his own experiences as a father. It’s still startling. “Time truly flies.”

“That it does.” Chris gestures for him to make his way into the receiving room, and Peter keeps his eyes scanned. If Talia thinks there’s something wrong here, it might be a good use of his time to find it.

“How’s your sister handling things?”

“You can ask her yourself.” However, once they turn the corner to the receiving room, Kate is nowhere to be seen—only Gerard and Chris’s wife, Victoria. They seem to have a hushed conversation that comes to an abrupt halt when Peter enters the room.

“Peter,” Gerard says, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“My sister wished to send her condolences in person, and I was the closest.”

Gerard nods slowly, and Peter can already see the wheels in the man’s head turning—not that they ever weren’t. Gerard has some kind of plan in motion, and Peter is a wrench. He would love to find out why that is.

“She had a message for Kate, especially. Is she here?”

“She’s with her mother.”

“Wonderful. I’d like to pay my respects as well.”

“Yes, Chris, why don’t you show him to the room?” Victoria pipes up, and Peter takes all this in with a measured nod before turning to follow Chris to the room in question.

He knocks briefly on the bedroom door, and Kate’s muffled voice comes from the inside: “Come in.”

Chris pokes his head in. “Peter Hale is here, Kate. He wants to pay his respects.” She must give him some kind of a nod as he pushes the door open further and gestures for Peter to enter the room.

The room itself is solemn as most death room’s wound be. The scent of death rises from the bed, likely the corpse, but there’s something else in the room. An acrid, uncomfortable sense that sets Peter’s own wheels turning. Something else happened here—he just needs to find out what.

Kate’s back is to him when he enters, hands brushing at her cheeks. When she turns, however, her face is composed, and her voice steady when she speaks. “Peter. Thank you for coming. Please convey that to your sister as well.”

“Of course,” Peter nods. “She wanted me to say that if you need any support, the Hale pack is here.” Because they’re still allies. It will depend on how that holds over the next few days. Gerard still has his plans, after all.

“Thank you,” Kate nods. Victoria calls, and Chris excuses himself, leaving Peter and Kate alone. Once the door closes, Kate steps forward, gripping Peter’s arm tightly. “This isn’t right.”

Peter doesn’t bother with the platitudes, telling her that losing a parent never feels right, even if it’s true. He trusts Kate wouldn’t point it out if she didn’t think there was something there. “How long was she ill?”

“A few days? It didn’t seem that serious at first, but she took a bad turn last night, and…”

Peter makes his way over to the bedside table, looking at the things accumulated there. Various medical treatments, personal items, but his eyes fall on a small ring of dust with a void where something used to be. “Was there something here?”

“Father always brought her a cup of tea before bed—they must have cleared it away.”

“Always Gerard personally?”

“Yes.” Kate’s eyes narrow and she steps closer. “Why? What are you—”

Before she can finish the question, the door opens and the rest of the family enters with a tray of glasses of wine. Peter and Kate both straighten, pulling apart as Gerard greets them both with a smile. “While you’re here, Peter, we wanted to drink a toast to my late wife, in the presence of the allies she treasured dearly.”

“I know my sister treasured her friendship over the years as well. She would be honored by being included.”

He watches as Gerard passes out the glasses, and that acrid scent floats through the room again, though this time fresher. Peter pauses, bringing his glass to his nose as though he’s testing the bouquet, but his smells fine, nothing out of the ordinary. He then moves towards the source and finds it’s the glass of the woman next to him. Waiting until Gerard’s back is turned, he silently reaches forward, swapping the two glasses in their hands and moving back into position.

Kate’s eyes follow his movement, confused at first, before realization dawns. She keeps silent through the toast and sips the glass. Peter mimes a sip of his own before setting it down and to the side.

“Now, of a more solemn note,” Gerard continues. “There is the matter of Amelie’s will. She’s named her successor and that—” He moves a hand to the side and places it behind the back of the woman next to him. “—is Victoria.”

Peter can feel Kate tense, and when she takes a small step forward, he reaches out for her wrist to stop her. He can put the pieces together now. Kate is her mother’s daughter, and will have been raised aware of how not to be manipulated by her father. Victoria is a much easier mark, easier for Gerard to control. And Victoria’s never been fond of the Hales either.

Gerard wants a war. And by getting the true heir out of the way, it would be all too easy. Poisoning Kate now makes it appear she caught her mother’s illness. After her death, announce Victoria as the heir. Possibly even frame Peter for poisoning her, if he thinks he can get away with it.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says to Kate, moving forward and placing a hand on her shoulder. “I know you worked hard, but … you weren’t quite ready yet.”

“I see.” Kate’s voice catches in her throat.

“Well. I should get on the road,” Peter interrupts, wanting to get out of this powder keg of a house as soon as possible. The longer he stays, the more likely he is to be used as leverage against his sister. “My sister will probably arrive within a few weeks for the funeral.”

“Thank you again for your speedy arrival, Peter,” Gerard nods.

“Let me walk you out,” Kate interjects. As they leave the room, Peter thinks he catches a glance of Chris heading towards his wineglass, but he tries not to think anything of it. He just wants to get out the door as soon as possible.

About halfway to the door, Kate catches his arm. “Peter, why were you here?”

He purses his lips, trying to figure out how best to explain the nuances of the situation. “My daughter’s mother took her and has been running ever since. Corrine isn’t the most stable of women, and I’m worried that she’ll hurt her. Last lead I had said that they were somewhere in this area of the mountains.”

“I know these mountains very well. Let me help you.”

Peter glances back at her—leaving just before her mother’s funeral wouldn’t look good. But if her father truly did just try to poison her, she won’t last much longer in this house. “I would appreciate that, Kate. Thank you.”

“Let me get my things, and I’ll meet you on the road.”

He nods, turning and continuing his way out the door. If he realized that this is the moment that would have put spark to the flame of the war, he might have done things differently.

But then again, maybe he wouldn’t have.

Edited 2024-05-18 15:23 (UTC)

Ten years ago…

By the time Kate and Peter return from the mountains with Malia, things have already gone wrong. They were only gone a few days, but Kate underestimated her father’s ability to act. By the time they returned, the Hale family, seeking retribution for trying to poison Peter, had turned her disappearance into a kidnapping. She went straight to Geuvadan to resolve this while Peter took Malia back home as quickly as he could, but …

Well, let’s just say it didn’t end well.

The war escalates so quickly, Kate learns she underestimated how many of the Argent’s men at arms were loyal to her mother rather than Gerard—shockingly few. It seems they were all biding their time under Amelie to wait for the power behind the throne to grasp it. And as much as her brother loved her, he was a loyal soldier first. With Gerard in his ear, Kate had no way of getting through to him.

So she chose the side that also chose her.

Which is how she ends up on a cliff with Peter, out of room to run with her brother close on their heels. Peter swears as he peers over the edge, knowing that they’re out of options. “We need to get out of here.”

“I’m open to any suggestions.”

“Helpful, Kate, thank you. I’m sure that will—” Before he can finish the statement, they both hear the dry slide of a crossbow, and he just dodges out of the way as the bolt flies past his head.

They both turn and see Chris standing at the edge of the woods. His eyes are focused on Peter, but she can see the glance at her as he tries to process the situation. She quickly reacts, throwing herself between her brother and Peter. She can feel the disappointment creeping into his gaze, but his aim doesn’t waver.

“Kate. What are you doing?”

“What are you doing? The Hales were our allies.”

“Until Peter kidnapped you.”

Her eyes roll to the ceiling. “He didn’t kidnap me! It’s been five years. Do you really think I’d still be running with him if he kidnapped me? You think he has some kind of magical werewolf hypnotism powers?”

Peter snorts, and Chris’ face flickers. She knows it’s hard for him to toe something that isn’t the family line, but she knows he has a brain and can think for himself. When he doesn’t respond, Kate pushes things a step further.

“Why on earth would Peter suddenly kidnap me?”

“Because someone tried to poison him at the viewing. I found the poison in his wine.”

Kate closes her eyes. “Our father tried to poison me. The same way he poisoned our mother to take control. Peter figured it out and switched our glasses when no one was looking.”

“Why would he—”

“Because Victoria wasn’t supposed to be in charge. I was. He knew he couldn’t control me, so he wanted to get rid of me.”

That provides a ring of truth. If Kate and Amelie died the same way, it’s easy to pass off as her catching her mother’s illness. Chris takes a step back, his arm lowering slightly. Kate’s version of events seems to make more sense than most.

“So you ran away then?”

“No. I left to pay Peter back by helping him find his daughter. And I didn’t think it was wise to be in a house unprotected where someone was trying to poison me. I thought by the time I came back, I would have a plan. Father worked … much more quickly than I expected.”

“So did you, my girl. So did you.”

The fourth voice has her head snapping to the side in surprise, unable to react when one of Gerard’s goons steps up behind her brother and clocks him across the back of the head, knocking him unconscious. Kate stumbles backwards, giving just enough room that three crossbow bolts fired in rapid succession hit Peter’s chest and send him tumbling over the edge of the cliff. There’s a sharp cry of surprise before Kate’s eyes land on her father again, reaching for the dagger on her belt. It’s too close a range to use her bow, not like this.

Gerard strides forward, sliding some kind of metal gauntlet over one end, each finger tipped with a steel claw. She tries to dance out of range but he’s fast for an old man and the steel claws dig into her skin as he swipes across her chest, leaving red, jagged lines. She stumbles, moving closer to the cliff’s edge as she tries to curl in on herself.

“So what’s the plan, Dad?” she rasps. “Kill me. Blame it on the wolves. Tote me as some sort of martyr for the cause?”

Gerard nods. “He killed you, I killed him. Laura, I’m sure, will escalate, for both this and her mother’s death, giving us all the more reason to wipe them out finally for good.”

Kate hates how right he is. Laura is angry, as she should be. Her eyes glance over the edge of the cliff, wondering if she throws herself over it, bleeding as she is, would she stand a chance of survival? Or is death by the cliff better than whatever grim end her father has planned for her? She takes another calculated step backwards, and opens her mouth to deliver another quip, but Gerard doesn’t give her a chance. His claws come up and swipe, slicing the skin of her throat. She doesn’t have another choice.

Clamping a hand over the wound, she tips back and lets herself fall.

* * * * *

For a long time, there isn’t anything but pain. Then, she’s jolted back into reality by the sudden absence of it. Her eyes fly open as the pain seeps away, and she glances around wildly. Her eyes first land on Peter, bandaged on a cot next to her, but breathing. Then, her eyes turn towards the man with his hand clamped on her shoulder, hand drawing away as much of the pain as he can, black tendrils sliding into his fingers.

“Don’t talk. We don’t have time.” Her eyes meet his again, and she sees them glow red in response. “He will live. Unless I do something, you won’t.”

She knows enough of the implications to understand what he’s asking her. He could give her the bite. Sink his teeth into her and turn her into something she never truly thought about becoming. Bitten werewolves have a hard time with full moons and bloodlust that is difficult to control. That never appealed to her.

But she’s found, in this moment, that she likes the idea of dying even less.

She doesn’t waste time. She nods, or as much as she can, with the bandages wrapped tightly around her throat.

“Good. This will hurt.” The man’s teeth shift and change, becoming elongated fangs, before he leans down and sinks them into the meat of her arm.

She cries out and then sinks into blessed unconsciousness all over again. Only this time, she hopes she has a chance of waking up.

Peter wakes up in a semi-comfortable bed with semi-familiar scents, the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, but not quite feeling like he’d been skewered with arrows before being thrown off a cliff. The phantom pains are there, but most of the wounds have healed, for better or worse. He slowly starts pushing himself up into a sitting position, nose trying to process the scents, familiar and not, until he locks on to one that spurs him into action—Kate. Or more specifically, her blood.

She’s on a cot near to him, curled up on her side. He makes his way closer to get a better look at her injuries when a voice comes from behind him.

“You were relatively easy to heal. She was not.”

Peter’s head turns in the direction and relaxes slightly when he sees its Deucalion, not some other unknown werewolf. Once that question is answered, he turns to the next, trying to see if he can determine what he means. He shifts Kate gently, not trying to wake her and he can see the wounds that are gently scarring against her neck, as well as the healing alpha bite on her arm.

“I asked her,” Deucalion says before Peter can ask. “She agreed. I think she figured being a werewolf was better than death. Also, I reached out to your niece. She should be here in a few hours.”

Peter frowns, because Laura should be far from here, but it’s possible he’s been out longer than he’s realized. So he takes that news with a nod, and moves to sit by Kate’s bedside instead of back to his own cot. “Has there been any news?”

“Gerard is spreading the word that you’re both dead, as though this has sealed his victory in the war. Granted, he has no bodies to prove it, so he hasn’t really stopped anything.”

“Let me guess. I kidnapped her, so in a fit of rage I also killed her, and then Gerard killed me in retribution.”

“Something like that.” The other man passes him a bowl of stew. “Eat. Right now, all you need to worry about is regaining your strength.”

Peter doesn’t think that’s his only concern, but he can feel the hunger rumbling as he takes the bowl and he nods. Strategy can come later, when they’re all in one place.

* * * * *

“This is a shit show.”

Laura always had a way of getting straight to the point. Fortunately, Peter doesn’t disagree with her.

“Unfortunately.”

“I could force his hand here. Demand he shows proof of your deaths. Make him save face in front of all of them.”

“Only problem is, it won’t matter.” Kate regained consciousness shortly before Laura’s arrival and is currently sitting next to him, shoveling as much stew as she can get into her mouth. Her body has a lot to heal. “Everyone is loyal to my father. They will tow his line, and if he wants to continue this war, then they’ll fight.”

“The only one we may have stood a chance of getting through to is Chris, and I’m not sure coming back from the dead is going to help sell that.”

Laura raises an eyebrow. “And what is Chris going to do for me, exactly?”

“Don’t know. That might be for you to figure out if I’m out of the game. Derek needs to step up and play his part.”

“We can’t just leave you both dead, Peter.”

“I think leaving us dead might be the only choice you have.”

“But what about—” Laura’s voice trailed off because it’s not as though this idea won’t have consequences. He won’t be able to see his daughter for a long time. He refuses to let the answer to that be never, but he knows that right now he’s more of a danger to her than a protection.

“Malia still has the other half of the message stones I gave her. I’ll keep in touch when I can. We’ll find somewhere to hide while you focus on ending this war.” Peter leans forward to meet Laura’s eyes. “You can do this. Take the chinks in Chris’ armor and see if you can use them to your advantage.”

Laura buries her face in her hands at the realization that she’ll have to do this mostly alone. “This sucks.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Are you going to be okay on your own? Given …” She glances over at Kate, who looks up from her stew with a frown.

“Oh. The whole full moon thing? We’ll manage.”

Laura looks back at Peter. “Will you?”

“I helped all four of you figure it out. I think I can help her.”

“Okay.” She sighs, exasperated. “Then I better get out of here before I draw attention.”

Peter rises to walk her out, and once they’re out of Kate’s view, but before she gets to the front door, she steps forward and pulls him into a long hug.

“It will be okay, Laura.”

“You better not have to stay dead forever,” she sighs. “I don’t think I can do this without you forever.”

“You’ll be better at this than you think. I promise.”

Once Laura leaves, Peter returns to Kate and settles into the seat next to her. He feels tired and disappointed, but for now, it’s the right thing to do. He just hopes that his daughter will understand. (She won’t. She’ll be angry, but it’s not much different from the rest of things between them in the last five years.)

“So,” Kate says with a sigh. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

Peter turns with a small smile and nods. “Looks like. But I think we make a pretty good team.”

“Me too.” She reaches over and takes his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry for this. I know you’re giving up so much more than I am.”

He glances down, squeezing it in return, before shaking his head. “I wouldn’t have changed any of it.”

Kate meets his eyes and nods, before turning back to her stew again. “Deucalion says we have a few weeks until the next full moon. Should give us enough time to find somewhere to get settled before we have to worry about me causing problems.”

“Good.” Peter exhales slowly. Whatever challenges come ahead, they’ll figure it out.

* * * * *

Present day…

Peter wakes to Kate, pushing at his side, which by her standards is an almost gentle way of waking him. He had fallen asleep in a stack of books, working on a job for a client. It’s likely not a commentary on the job itself but more that he’s been working himself too hard, and as he rouses to a crick in his back and a sleepy frown, Kate smirks.

“Dinner. If you don’t eat now, it’s going to get cold.”

He groans, pushing to his feet and trying to stretch out the aches. “Thanks.”

“Also, your message stone is ringing.”

He blinks, before sorting through the piles on his desk so until he can find the glowing rock and catch it between his fingers.

“Hi, Dad. I’m going to be bringing Derek up tomorrow. We should be there in three days. Also, tell Kate that Allison is coming too.”

Peter’s jaw must have dropped, because when he turns to look at Kate, she squints at him. “What? What’s wrong?”

“My daughter and nephew are coming. And they are bringing your niece.”

Kate’s eyes go wide and she leans back before saying exactly what he’s thinking.

“Well, shit.”

“I’m not sure I trust her.”

Snow swirls down around them as they make their way through the town towards the university. Stiles could probably name off several reasons for his mistrust of Cora Hale, how she just demanded his services out of nowhere and is refusing to give them any details of what the job would entail. Its shady behavior and if weren’t for Scott and Lydia backing him into a corner, he probably would have refused.

Despite the stupid amount of money that he was promised.

Scott glances over at his best friend, an amused look on his face. “Do you just not trust anyone if they’re in charge instead of you? Or do you just not think women should be in charge?”

Stiles blinks over at Scott before shaking his head. “I love and support women in charge. Especially when they’re werewolves, within earshot, and would probably eviscerate me if they thought I didn’t.”

“But you don’t trust her.”

“She’s an unknown entity. I haven’t had time to vet her.”

“You had time to vet Lydia, and you still didn’t trust her.”

“You know, I don’t like this new pattern of using my own actions against me,” Stiles grumbles before adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “Is it so wrong that I like to be in charge?”

“No. But you can’t be in charge all the time. Especially if someone else found us the job, and we were just invited along.” Scott claps him on the shoulder as the warm lights of the tavern appear ahead of them. “Just try not to be too much of a pain in the ass, alright?”

“Fine.” Stiles huffs, before following him inside. He lets out a small sigh of a relief at the feeling of the hearth, and is suitably impressed at the quality of the tavern. “Can we afford this?”

“You can when you’re not the one paying.” Cora strides up and passes a key over to Scott and Stiles. “You two can share one room. Lydia and I will take the other. Dinner and breakfast are included.”

“Great,” Stiles replies, surprised by the upgrade for their usual establishments.

Lydia reaches over to pluck the key from Cora’s hands. “I desperately need a bath. Do you mind if I go first?”

“Not at all. I’m starving.” Cora peels off to head toward the bar to get herself some dinner, leaving Scott and Stiles standing alone, debating what to do next.

“Mind if I take the bath first?” Scott asks, and Stiles nods, his eyes following Cora into the thick of the crowd. Scott usually needs more time to get out of all that armor, anyway. So after dropping his things in the room, he makes his way back down, requesting his dinner and a tankard of ale from the bar and making his way over to where Cora has claimed herself a table with her own tankard and a bowl of stew.

As soon as he sits, her eyes flit up and narrow. “Are we going to have a problem?”

“Us?” Stiles balks. “Why would you say that?”

“Because Lydia says you have trouble submitting to someone else’s authority. Also, I’m a werewolf with really good ears and can hear the conversations you’re having with Scott about me.” Cora gives him a look, and he feels stupid, bringing that up within earshot. Sometimes, he forgets she’s Derek’s sister.

“Right. Forgot about that.”

“Mmm-hmm. So, again, are we going to have a problem?”

Stiles considers briefly. “I’m not going to stop questioning what we’re doing. That’s my job, asking questions so that we can ensure we have all the answers.”

“I’m fine with that. Mostly.”

“And by mostly, do you mean anytime it’s not you?”

“I mean, if you’re questioning my orders all the time and trying to pull rank, you could waste time that could get us killed. Sometimes we will not have a long period to debate something.”

“Yeah, I’m not stupid. This isn’t my first adventure.”

“So if I’m making a call in a life or death decision, you will trust me and follow that call?”

Every instinct in his body says to say no. That promising this is a trap, and it’s going to get him and Scott hurt. He’s been in enough tombs to know that no one can have all the answers. Not even him.

“Only if I don’t think it’s a shit one.”

Cora’s fingers curl around the handle of her tankard of ale, and he can tell she’s suppressing the urge to punch him in the face. He’s seen a similar look on Derek’s face before. It seems to be something that he inspires in Hales. He then cuts her off before she can implode at him.

“Look, I’ll admit. I enjoy being in charge. I like being the guy to make the calls. But another thing about being in charge is you’ve got to know when to defer to the expertise of the people you hired.”

“So what? I should just let you be in charge because you’re an expert in it?”

His face brightens until he realizes that isn’t a real question. “No. I get that. But I’m also not just gonna roll over and follow your every word because you think you should be in charge.”

“It’s my job! I’m the one who got it and who hired you. And honestly, I would have preferred to find another rogue to do this job, but we were short on time and Derek said you were good.” Cora finishes her ale as Stiles’ stew arrives, and she pushes to her feet. “Look, if you can’t follow my lead, let me know. I’ll find someone else. But if you decide to stay, no more of that ‘not being sure if you can trust me’ bullshit. You either do, or you don’t, and if you don’t, you can go. I’m not stopping you.”

Cora leaves the table and Stiles stares after her for a moment as she heads up the stairs. She brushes past Scott on his way down, and the other man frowns, before looking over at Stiles and sighing as he makes his way over to the table.

“Dude. What did you do?”

Stiles’ mouth works for a moment, before tipping his head to the side. “I think I almost got fired.”

Scott frowns, before stealing his stew and glancing back after her. “Good for her.”

Stiles looks back at Scott. “Traitor.” He steals his stew back before shaking his head. “Do you trust her?” He knows it’s a bad question. Scott trusts everyone, mostly, until they prove otherwise. That’s why he needs Stiles.

Scott shrugs before nodding. “She hasn’t given me a reason not to.”

Stiles sighs before rubbing his eyes. “That’s what worries me.”

“How can you stand him?”

Cora bursts into her and Lydia’s shared room to find the girl perched on the edge of the bed, finishing up her primping after finally washing off the road. Lydia doesn’t seem surprised by Cora’s outburst, given that she came with the Stiles package, Cora can’t say she’s surprised either.

“Scott or Stiles?”

“Stiles.” Cora moves to flop into one chair with a heavy sigh. “Scott is great.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Lydia smiles as she settles on the bed across from her. “But no, with Stiles you simply have to keep reminding him where the line is and hope it eventually sinks in.”

“Does it ever?”

“Not yet,” Lydia sighs. “Unfortunately, with me, I recruited him specifically for the project, so he knew I couldn’t do this without him. Threatening to fire him and find someone else didn’t really hold weight in the middle of the woods.”

“So you’re saying I have options?”

“You just need a rogue. Cut him loose and find another.”

Cora immediately scowls, as she knows that won’t fly. Not that she doesn’t think she could find someone, it’s that she doesn’t trust people easily. Especially rogues. She’s met enough rogues to solidify their reputation in her mind as someone that would stab her in the back if she gave them enough opportunity and it was to their advantage. That her brother came back from a mission with Stiles intact is a point in his favor that he can be trusted. She doesn’t have the time to vet someone new.

“If I lose Stiles, I probably lose Scott too.” Which, there goes her extra muscle. Cora then glances over at Lydia and raises an eyebrow. “And you?”

“Only if you lose Scott. He has something that I’m following for … academic reasons.”

Cora squints, because she’s seen some glances that Scott and Lydia have shared. It’s not solely for academic reasons.

“Scott and Stiles are enough of a package deal to make me believe that’s exactly what would happen.” She sighs before running a hand over her face. “I’m screwed.”

“You’re not screwed.”

“Yes, I am, because I already told Stiles that if he can’t hack it listening to me, then he should leave. Which he’s probably going to do.”

Cora buries her face in her hands and Lydia sighs. She can hear the footsteps moving across the room until her perfume is wafting in front of his face. Lydia places a gentle hand on her shoulder and gives it a small squeeze.

“Take a bath. Wash off the grime of the road. Then get some sleep. Even if Stiles leaves, it’s not the end of the world.”

Cora knows, intellectually, that it’s true. But she can’t help but wish that Malia was still here with her. At least then, she wouldn’t feel like she was teetering on the edge of being so alone. Still, she nods. Lydia’s right. Whatever happens, it’ll probably be better in the morning.

* * * * *

When she comes down to breakfast the next morning, she finds everyone in her party at the breakfast table, ready to take on the road. She eyes each of them, trying to figure out what this is an omen of. Are they leaving, or are they staying? But before she can say anything, Stiles gets up and makes his way over to her.

“Can we talk?”

“Sure.” She doesn’t know what about, but she hopes it’s a step in the right direction. “What’s up?”

“You were right.”

Whatever she had been expecting to hear, this is not it. “I was?”

“I wasn’t giving you a fair shot because I thought I knew better. I did the same thing to Lydia, and it wasn’t fair to her either, and made things complicated in the long run.”

“I’m not saying that you can’t have an opinion, Stiles. I just want to make sure you won’t be undermining me at every turn.”

“I will do my best not to.” She raises an eyebrow, and he continues. “My mouth can get ahead of my brain sometimes. I’m working on it. But in the times that matter, I’ll let you call the shots. Fair?”

Cora nods, and apparently she’s easier to read than she’d like to be, because his head tips to the side curiously. “What?”

“Did something happen? Because something about you seems … off.”

“The university is also sending one of their experts with us into the ruin. He’s coming to meet us here before we hit the road.”

“Oh? That’s not such a bad thing, right?” As he says that, the door opens, and as he turns, his eyes wide. “Who’s that?”

Something she and Stiles agree on. Standing in the doorway is Theo Raeken, magic user and all around smarmy asshole, and the last person who Cora wants following her underground into an abandoned ruin. The second she sees him, she’s moving without a thought, pulling one dagger out of Stiles’ bandolier and flinging it straight and clean until it lands in the door next to his head.

Stiles turns back to her, eyes wide in return. Theo follows the line of the dagger to her not long after, and he raises an eyebrow.

“So it’s like that, Cora?”

“You nearly got my cousin killed, Theo. You bet your ass it’s like that.”

“Shame the university doesn’t feel the same way.”

She can already feel herself charging forward, but Stiles catches her arm gently, holding her back. It’s the hold that shows he knows he can’t actually hold her back, but he just wants her to take a breath and think. She relents and lets him hold her in place because he’s right. This isn’t the smart play.

“You set one foot out of line, and I swear on the gods I will end you.” Cora’s voice doesn’t even shake as she breaks away from Stiles and heads back to the table where Scott and Lydia are waiting. She doesn’t have to look at him to picture the smile on Theo’s face as she does.

“We’ll see about that. You know I have friends in high places.”

To her surprise, it’s Stiles’ voice she hears: “We’ll see about that.”

Stiles has decided that he doesn’t like Theo Raeken.

It starts when the man tries to pass off the display earlier (re: the dagger he almost took to the head at Cora’s hands) as a burst of feminine rage. Mostly because Stiles knows he’s been grating on Cora’s last nerve since the trip started and she has profound self-control. Most other barbarians would have threatened him with violence at twice in as many days.

Hell, her brother did.

But Theo just had to walk in the room, and she’s losing her cool. And now, Theo seems to put the moves on Lydia, trying to engage with her on a magic level given that they’re both the two spellcasters of the group, and he can practically hear Scott growling in response.

“I don’t like this guy.”

“Me either,” Stiles agrees. “Want to go find out what Cora knows?”

Scott nods and they make their way over to the log where she’s sitting, plopping down on either side of her. She blinks at them both in surprise before frowning. “What is this?”

“What’s the deal with this Theo guy?”

They know that some of it involves Malia, given the exclamation in the tavern when he arrived, but Stiles needs more details. How did this happen? What’s the chance of it happening again?

Cora rolls her eyes before shaking her head. “He works for the university. On the research team of this trio of doctors there. The students call them the Dread Doctors, and they’re kind of creepy, but their work also gets a majority of the funding. Theo is their favorite contributor.”

Stiles doesn’t think that sounds like an endorsement. Especially for people named the “Dread Doctors.” “Why do they get so much of the funding?”

“Because their work has been the most successful, magically speaking. And then most easy to apply to the kingdom. But I think for them, the kingdom is just a means to an end. They need the funding to run whatever their end goal is. Anyway, Malia and I got hired on another expedition that Theo was running. He was charming, at first. Said we were all on the same team. Even was flirting with Malia like he thought he could get her to trust him by thinking he was interested. And then when we found what we were looking for, he bailed from the room, triggering a trap that nearly got Malia and the rogue that was with us killed in a full collapse of the building. They only survived because Malia had a healing factor and could take a bunch of the damage.”

“And he’s still working for the university why?” Scott says, baffled.

“Because adventuring always has an element of risk,” Stiles supplies. “In every contract they give you, they say that any harm that comes to you isn’t on them because you agreed to the job knowing the risk.”

Cora nods. “Fortunately, the healer and I saw the whole thing and could get Malia and Isaac out, but … Theo got away. And now he’s here. Again.”

“So Theo is likely going to stab us in the back.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.” Cora glances over at Stiles. “If you want to point all of your distrusting energy at him instead of me, I’m all for it.”

“Deal.”

Cora seems pleasantly surprised by that. He’s glad. It means they’re agreeing, because he had meant what he said. Scott excuses himself, getting up to go place himself on the other side of Lydia. Cora turns back to Stiles and nods.

“Sorry. About what I did with your dagger before.”

“Don’t be. It was kinda hot.” Cora blinks, and Stiles realizes he says the second sentence out loud. “I’m gonna go check the perimeter.” He walks away without looking back, feeling Cora’s eyes boring into his shoulders as he makes a hasty retreat.

* * * * *

Globs of magical light swirl around them as they move through the narrow tunnels, thanks to Lydia’s light spell. Stiles hasn’t had a lot of time to focus on the way he made an idiot of himself on the way here, and is doing what he does best: rooting out traps. There have been several that he’s kept from doing them major damage.

“According to the map, it's not much farther,” Lydia says as she comes up next to him. She sends the lights further, revealing a large entryway to a mystical room.

“Twice in as many weeks. This is being a pattern,” Stiles sighs. “If there’s going to be an ancient warrior in there who wants us to fight for a god, the Moonmaiden has already claimed us.”

Scott tosses Stiles a grin, but Theo doesn’t seem amused. “Seriously?”

Cora crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Do you have a problem with the Moonmaiden, Theo?”

A silvery glow gleams on the edge of Scott’s sword, and Theo swallows before shaking his head. “No. Not at all.”

“Good.” Cora straightens and makes her way past the last trap as Stiles disables it, before stepping into the surrounding room. Immediately, she stops short and frowns.

“What is it?” Stiles asks.

“Something about this isn’t right.” She moves closer, taking a deep breath as her eyes glow gold. “I smell blood. Fresh blood.”

Scott frowns and he and Stiles nod to each other before spreading out to sweep the sides. “Didn’t you say there was an adventuring party down here not too long ago? Maybe there was a fight.”

“No, the blood is too fresh for that. It’s almost as though—”

Cora’s voice cuts out, and Stiles’ eyes immediately spin to her. She has one hand clasped around her throat, trying to catch her breath.

“Cora?” Stiles protests, before making his way closer. “What’s wrong?”

As he moves in front of her, he catches sight of Theo, standing with a hand outstretched, and a sly smile on his face. “C’mon now. Don’t tell me you didn’t see this coming.”

Cora can’t breathe.

The rage is flowing through her, trying to fight back against the invisible hand around her throat. Her eyes are watering and she’s struggling, unsure how much time she has as every second seems to stretch out so much longer. She can see the rest of the team moving into position around her.

“Look,” Theo begins. “This really has nothing to do with the three of you. The Dread Doctors are ready to pay you handsomely for looking the other way.”

“Looking the other way while you kill our friend,” Scott clarifies. “Just so we’re all on the same page.”

“Is she really your friend?” Theo’s voice is sneering. “You met her what? A week ago?”

“You must not have a lot of friends if you don’t know what one looks like,” Lydia replies, and Cora can barely make out the sign of her hands moving through her blurred vision. “And maybe we are friends. Maybe not. But if you’re going to take out Cora Hale, I’m going to have to insist that it be a fair fight.”

The counterspell rips through the air, and suddenly oxygen rushes back into her lungs. She coughs, dropping to her knees in surprise, but after a few deep breaths, her vision clears and she’s back on her feet again, eyes glowing werewolf yellow. Theo’s face looks slightly panicked, as though he thought that money would be their most powerful motivators. He glances wildly over to Stiles.

“You don’t even trust her.”

“I trust her more than I trust you. She hasn’t tried to kill me.” Stiles spins a knife in his hand. “Plus, her brother I do trust, and he’d be pretty pissed if we didn’t bring his baby sister home in one piece.”

“I really think you’re underestimating how much money this is.”

“I really think you’re overestimating how much we care about money,” Scott points out, before glancing around. “Especially since I don’t think we’re here for a relic or a find.”

“No. We’re here for proof.” Cora’s voice is scratchy, but steady. Her eyes scan over the tables dripped in different blood, crusted and dried over, besides the fact that the tables are made of metal, not stone. “The university suspected that your Dread Doctors were up to something more than the academic projects that they’ve been working on under their roof. And they wanted me to find it.”

“So what? This whole thing was bait?” Theo looks incredulous. “They’re not onto us.”

“That’s true,” Cora replies. “They weren’t on to you. Not until you insisted on tagging along.”

Theo’s face pales in response, trying to recover how to dig himself out of the hole he put himself in. “So you were all in on this?”

“No. We thought we were here for treasure,” Stiles points out. “But honestly, this is just as well.”

“They’ll still be paid handsomely by the university for their efforts,” Cora nods. “But no. This was all me—and Malia—but unfortunately she couldn’t be here to tear your throat out herself.”

She can see the panic fully setting in, eyes wide as he realizes how fully outnumbered he is. And then he does what Theo always does. He casts an invisibility spell on himself, and he runs.

Lydia tries to get off another counterspell, but she’s not fast enough this time. Cora tries to follow her nose, tracing his scent through the tunnels, but before she can get ahold of him, he’s gone. She huffs before turning back to the rest of the group.

“He’s gone.”

“I really don’t like that guy,” Stiles reiterates before making his way closer to her. “You okay?”

She nods. “I’m mad I didn’t get to punch him in the face, but I’ll live.”

“You could have filled us in on the actual plan,” Scott points out and Cora nods.

“Honestly, this wasn’t the plan until Theo showed up.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small totem, and gives it a squeeze. “The plan was just to find this. Figuring out Theo really was a traitor is a bonus.”

In a few seconds, a tall, black man in cleric’s robes appears next to her. He scans around the room as he arrives, before glancing back at her with a smirk. “You summon me to the nicest places.”

Cora smirks in return before nodding to the rest of the group. “Vernon Boyd, this is Lydia Martin, Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski.”

He waves a hand. “Thanks for helping with this little project. Theo?”

“Ran. I lost him in the tunnels. But I figured we have enough to at least start discrediting the Dread Doctors and can track down the rest later.”

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s document.”

Stiles makes a face. “You did not say that this was going to involve homework.”

“At the end of homework, do you normally get a big bag of gold?”

Stiles considers, then nods. “Fair point. Where do you want us to start?”

Tankards of ale scatter across the table as Boyd returns, settling into his spot on the bench next to Cora with a sigh. “I made the call. He said he’d send some paladins to collect the evidence we found.”

“Good,” Stiles interrupts before either of them can say anything else. “So maybe now you could give us an actual explanation of what happened?”

Cora and Boyd exchange a look before he leans back in his seat and gestures to the three adventurers across from them. “They’re your new friends.”

Cora rolls her eyes before shifting and leaning closer to the rest of the group. “About a year ago, Malia and I were hired to work a job for the university. Specifically, for the Dread Doctors—they needed extra muscle. Theo was the lead of the project, but the university had made a note of the fact that these trips the Dread Doctors were funding were often coming back with fewer people than they started with.”

“It can’t be that uncommon,” Lydia points out. “Adventuring is a dangerous profession.”

“It’s literally everyone that isn’t tied to the university in some capacity,” Cora points out. “Occasionally, Theo or one of their other lackeys would be the only person to return, and this happened multiple times. So either he was intentionally hiring bad help—”

“Which we investigated. All of them were adventurers with stellar reputations,” Boyd fills in.

“—Or they were intentionally scuttling these jobs. Which is where Boyd comes in.”

“I was not part of his intended party, but the university thought that adding an extra healer might even be the odds. But really, I was there to make sure these jobs were running above board. The university isn’t the most scrupulous of institutions, but given that it was their reputation on the line, they couldn’t be running jobs this dangerous.”

“Did you know that’s why Boyd was there when you started?” Stiles asks, still feeling a bit stung he didn’t.

“No,” Cora admits. “And I am sorry I did the same to you guys. But Theo wasn’t even supposed to be on this job, so I figured the less you knew, the safer you’d be.”

Stiles sniffs in response, before taking another sip of his ale and nodding for them to continue. “So, Boyd wound up on this job, you and Malia—”

“And a rogue named Isaac rounded things out. We made the trip out to one of the old temples. Everything was going fine. The Dread Doctors had said they needed a relic retrieved. That was not, in fact, what they needed.”

“They were making sacrifices,” Boyd supplies. “The adventurers weren’t meeting their end through accidents, they were being slaughtered by the Dread Doctors’ acolytes. Some of them were even being experimented on.”

“And let me guess,” Lydia sighs. “You were the next batch. Was it all to the same god?”

“No, actually. That was the interesting thing.” Boyd sets his ale down as he turns to face her more. “They were all happening at different temples. But they were all members of the older, bloodier pantheons.”

The Old Gods aren’t something that Stiles knows much about. He’ll have to pick Lydia’s brain about them later. But he doesn’t have to be well versed on the subject to know that there’s a reason they fell out of vogue. “So they’re making offerings to old gods. Why?”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to find out. I wanted to send Cora and Malia to investigate one of the old sites to see if they may have left any clues behind, but Theo found out what we were doing and forced his way onto the job.”

“How? The university—”

Boyd sighs. “The university does not discriminate about who wants to be on a project or not. They can’t refuse someone access to a project. Their whole thing is allowing access to information for all.”

“So if they break their own rules, it gives away that something’s up,” Stiles nods. “Got it.”

“Doesn’t matter now,” Cora sighs. “He knows we know, and he knows we lived, so we’re going to have to be very careful about what we do next.”

“But the university will fund all of it. If the Dread Doctors are looking to cause problems, they want to root them out as soon as possible.”

Stiles studies them both, before glancing over to Scott and Lydia. The three of them don’t really have specific plans for what they want to do next. But do they want to get involved in this mess? Does it matter when Theo already knows their names and faces?

Lydia raises an eyebrow at them both. “Our plans and theirs aren’t necessarily counterintuitive.” She glances over at Scott. “Unless you feel they are?”

Scott shakes his head. “No. I think this is the direction the Moonmaiden would want us to head in.”

“Then I guess we’re in.” Stiles looks over to Boyd. “Are you going to be joining us on the road?”

Boyd nods. “Now that my cover’s blown, don’t see why not. I’ve been wanting to get back on the road.”

“Good. So we’ll wait until the paladins arrive to pick up the evidence and then we’ll try to pin down where he might go next.”

Almost as though on cue, the front door to the tavern opens, and there’s the clinking of armor as two paladins make their way into the room. Stiles looks up to check their faces, and then immediately chokes on his ale when he does, in fact, recognize the first.

“Stiles?”

Cora and Boyd glance back to the paladin in question, before turning back to Stiles. “You know the Sheriff?” Cora asks.

“Yeah.” Stiles makes a face. “The sheriff is my dad.”

Noah Stilinski makes his way closer, Parrish right on his heels, and he looks around at the rest of the group. “I’m going to need an explanation for how this happened.”

Cora smirks before reaching for her own ale with a nod. “This should be good.”

Edited 2024-06-06 12:34 (UTC)

Something is off.

It itches in the back of Malia’s mind as she leads Allison and Derek down the secluded path. Part of her brushes it off as wanting a distraction from her destination and what she’s left Cora to do on her own with a full team of new people. Cora does not do well with new people, but at least she has Boyd watching her back if she needs it.

She knows what she’s avoiding. She hasn’t seen her father in several years, and while he’s attempted to be a good dad from a distance, it hasn’t always worked. But she’s the only one who knows which paths to take and which traps to avoid, which is why she’s the only one who can take Allison and Derek there. But that still doesn’t mean there isn’t something—

“Do you sense that?” Derek asks from behind her, and she instantly relaxes.

“I thought that was just me.”

“No, I feel it too,” Allison confirms. “Feels like we’re being watched.”

“Spread out,” Derek nods, and the three of them fan out across the path, eyes in the trees and in the foliage, to make out what is setting all of them off.

With the people they’re going to see, they can’t afford to not be paranoid.

Malia steps into the brush, and that itch gets stronger, until she catches the sound of a rustle just behind her ear. It’s the smallest, most delicate of sounds, but she’s too on-guard to ignore it. Her hand lashes out, aiming to grab whatever it is by the throat. Fingers close around flesh and she flips it to the ground and after the slam comes a very familiar groan.

“Isaac?”

“Hi, Malia.”

He stares up at her with his usual smarmy smirk, curly hair sprawled on the dirt next to her. Her fingers tighten around his throat on instinct, because he’s following her. Why is he following her if he’s not up to something?

“What are you doing here?”

“Can’t talk—” he rasps. “—can’t breathe.”

She rolls her eyes before loosening her grip, but not letting him go. “Answer the question.”

“It’s actually kind of a long story, so if we could do this, not with me on the—”

THWACK!

Derek’s axe hits a tree, and Isaac’s eyes widen in surprise. No, no surprise. Fear. That loosens her grip even more, and he rolls her off him and gets to his feet, running into the road.

“Wait, wait—stop!”

Isaac bursts onto the road and Malia is not far behind him, scanning the space to find Derek. Allison emerges from the trees, bow drawn and pointed at Isaac. “Derek?” Malia asks, and after some brief rustling later, he emerges from the trees, one hand wrapped around the arm of a curvy blonde who’s fruitlessly struggling against his grip.

“Don’t hurt her,” Isaac protests. “She’s a friend.”

“Isaac?” Derek blinks.

“You know him?” Allison asks.

“Unfortunately.” Malia replies. He shoots her a wounded look, and she rolls her eyes. “You’re stalking me in a place you shouldn’t be stalking me. How do you think I would feel about that?”

Isaac winces before nodding. “Point. But I needed to talk to you. We—me and my friend Erica—need to talk to you.”

Derek and Allison both look at her. Malia huffs before glancing up at the sun. It will set soon—they were on track to reach a local tavern by then. And as much as she doesn’t want to hear him out—him and his new blond friend—they can afford to take the time.

“Fine. You’re buying the drinks.”

* * * * *

Malia doesn’t think she likes Erica.

There’s something about her that makes her skin continue to itch, and there are moments when she moves where Malia thinks she can catch the edges of a glamor. It makes her feel like something about her isn’t quite right, but she can’t put her finger on it. She also keeps flirting with Derek, which he doesn’t like.

(Neither does Allison, but that’s a problem for another day.)

Still, they just have to get through one drink with them, and they’ll go away.

Isaac returns with the tankards, passing them out, before looking over at her with a smile. “So. I need a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” Allison asks.

“A violent one,” Malia fills in. “That’s the only favor he usually needs me for.”

Isaac feigns hurt at that. “Malia. I thought we were friends.”

“I thought so too. My cousin even saved your life once, and then you just bounced and I haven’t seen you in months.”

Isaac winces. “Okay, that’s fair. I didn’t mean to disappear on you. But something came up.”

“But am I wrong?”

There’s a period of silence before he winces again. “No, not exactly.”

“That’s what I thought.” She takes a sip of her drink. “So tell me. What do you need me to punch?”

“His name is Ennis.”

Derek makes a face. She closes her eyes and buries her face in her hands. “Of course it is.”

“So will you help.”

Malia takes her tankard and downs it quickly before pushing up and walking away. “I’ll think about it.”

Edited 2024-06-06 13:57 (UTC)

“Do you think they’ll help us?”

Erica sidles over the edges of her glamor, highlighting the soft curves of her frame in a way that’s enticing. He can tell she’s still trying to catch Derek’s attention—getting bigger, badder people to protect her has always been her thing. But Derek doesn’t seem all that enticed. Maybe it’s the glances he’s making towards the Argent heir that has something to do with it, but that’s not for him to assess.

“I don’t know,” Isaac sighs. “I didn’t think Malia was still this pissed at me.”

“I think she’s more pissed at you for stalking her rather than talking to her like a normal person.”

Isaac pauses before giving a shrug. “Yeah. There’s probably a little of that, too.”

Erica pauses as the bartender fetches a fresh tankard of ale for her, before leaning back and squinting at him. “What did you do?”

Isaac makes a face. “Well—”

“Isaac. Please tell me you didn’t.”

“In all fairness—”

“Isaac!” Erica hisses, before leaning in closer. “And you didn’t think that would be a problem when coming to ask her for help?”

“I didn’t think it was that serious!”

Erica groans, burying her face in her hands. “Okay, explain. From the top.”

“I got hired for that job for the university.”

“Yes, I know that part.”

“Malia and I hit it off. We were flirting, whatever. And then Theo Raeken dropped a temple on the both of us and … things escalated.”

“By how much?”

“Oh, shit, we’re alive. Let’s sleep together?”

“And then?”

“And then I heard her, Cora and Boyd already crafting a plan for revenge and I realized that I never wanted to be anywhere near Theo Raeken again, even to get revenge. He brought a temple down on my head.”

“So you bailed.”

“Yeah.”

“Without a word?”

“Yep.”

“And you didn’t think she would still be pissed about that?”

“I hoped.” He sighs as he runs a hand through his curly hair. “I mean, she seemed pretty chill about that stuff before.”

“Mmmm.” Erica sighs, leaning back against the bar. “You need to clear the air with her, or this will go nowhere.”

“How do I do that when she won’t even talk to me?”

“Don’t know. That’s for you to figure out.” She claps him on the shoulder before taking her beer and heading back into the throng of the crowd. “Just don’t fuck it up again.”

Isaac huffs before turning and finishing his own beer. He’ll do his best, but he probably shouldn’t be making any promises.

* * * * *

He still dreams, sometimes, about the temple collapse.

Malia sprawled on top of him, her blood trickling from the rocks digging into her. He can tell she’s in pain, but there’s nothing he can do. The panic is creeping in to that small, enclosed space (just like home, just like with his father), and he feels like he’s suffocating, slowly. He had become a rogue so he could wriggle himself out of any situation and never be trapped again, but some traps even he can’t escape. Especially when it’s triggered by someone he trusted.

He dreams of the temple that night, and wakes in the middle of the night with the need to move, so he leaves the room he’s sharing with Erica and makes his way up the stairs to the roof of the tavern. He’s both surprised, and not, to find Malia perching on the edge, staring out into the city.

“Hey.” He opts not to sneak up on her this time.

She glances back at him and glares, before saying the things she clearly couldn’t say in front of her cousin and the Argent. “I’m still mad at you.” Never let it be said she couldn’t cut straight to the point.

“I gathered.”

“You just bailed.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t even leave a fucking note.”

“I panicked.”

“Why? Because of what we did?”

“No.” Then he hesitates, because was it just Theo? Or was it the fact that if he and Malia kept getting closer and she was planning to run headfirst into danger? “Maybe. But not mostly. Mostly, it was the way you guys were talking about going after Theo and the Dread Doctors.”

Malia tips her head to the side. “Don’t you want them to pay for what they did?”

“Not more than I want to be alive.” Isaac turns his gaze from her to the buildings of the surrounding town. “When I saw you here instead of with Cora, I thought maybe you had the same idea.”

She shakes her head. “Derek asked me to take him and Allison to see my dad. I was going to meet up with Cora and Boyd once we were done.”

So Cora and Boyd were still alive. At least that’s something. “We really need your help, Malia.”

“Why?”

“Because—” Because Ennis is bigger and badder than the two of them can handle alone? Or because the giant alpha terrifies the shit out of him, and he doesn’t think he can get what they need from him on their own? “—Because my best friend is in a really shitty situation, and I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t get the best people I know on it. And I would owe you. Big time.”

“So this is about Erica.” Malia’s never been good at hiding her feelings, and the face she makes in response doesn’t escape him. She doesn’t like her. Erica can have that effect.

“Yeah. It’s about her. You’re the only person I trust with this. To make sure she stays safe.”

The face she’s making doesn’t go away, but in the end she grits her teeth. “Fine. What is this job, exactly?”

“Erica’s a warlock.”

Something lights in her face at that. “Archfey?”

“Yeah. How’d you—”

“She wears a glamor.”

“Right.” He forgets that for all Malia is about punching problems in the face, the Hales know a lot about magic. “Anyway, Ennis stole something from her patron. Something that’s slowly killing him. And if he dies…”

“Erica goes back to being a normal person. Is that so bad?”

“She has seizures. The magic that she borrows from her patron helps stabilize them.”

“Oh.” Malia sighs. “Do you have plans for where it’s held?”

Isaac nods. “It’s not too far from here. Maybe only a day or two out of your way.”

“Alright. I’ll let my dad know that we’re going to be running late. But that’s it. Just this job. We’re one and done.”

“Deal.”

“Okay. I’ll tell Derek and Allison in the morning.” She heads back towards the stairs, but before she gets to the roof door, he stops her.

“Malia?” She turns back to face him, and he knows that he definitely screwed up his chances here. He regrets that. But he’s still grateful all the same. “Thank you.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

He will do his best.

Edited 2024-06-07 13:44 (UTC)

“Are you okay?”

Derek and Malia linger to the back of the group as they travel—Erica and Isaac leading the way and Allison bringing up the middle. Malia keeps her eyes dead ahead, not acknowledging her cousin’s worried expression and continuing to bore into the pair of shoulders ahead of her.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? Because you might break the grip of your axe if you hold it any tighter.”

She glances down at the weapon in her hand, before sliding it inelegantly into place on her back. “I’m fine.”

Unfortunately, Derek’s concerned eyes don’t go away. They continue to linger, sitting, waiting, the way he always has with both her and Cora both and eventually she groans and gives in. “I will be fine. Better?”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Usually that’s my line.”

“Oh, do you want to talk about whatever’s going on with you and Allison?”

His eyes narrow and she knows she’s hit a nerve, hopefully one that will dissuade him from pushing this further. It, unfortunately, does not. To Malia’s dismay, Derek has known her his entire life and knows that if he waits it out just a little longer…

“I will be, Derek. I just need to get through this and not kiss him, and everything will be fine.”

Derek’s eyebrows fly into his hair. “Is there a danger of you kissing him?”

“With Isaac, there’s always a danger of him kissing me. I just need to punch him in the face instead of kissing him back.” That, she feels, is a solid plan she can totally stick to given the need. It’s not like they’re going to be spending forever together. They just need to get to Ennis, get what they need, and get out.

No time for kissing. Or anything else or that matter.

“Okay.” There’s a pause. “You know, you’re allowed to have feelings. Even for him.”

“No. Because the last time I did, he took off in the middle of the night without a word and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him in almost a year.”

“So he’s written off forever?”

“Yep.”

“No coming back from that.”

“Nope.”

“Okay. Fair enough.” Derek doesn’t seem as inclined to push the issue, given the bare details he’s gotten, and Malia is relieved. Perhaps this awkward conversation can finally end. “So, why are we helping him?”

“Because it’s not about him. It’s about her.” She nods towards Erica. “If we don’t help her, she could really get hurt and I’m not petty enough to let that happen to someone else just because I’m mad at him.”

Derek nods, almost as though something slots into place there. “That makes more sense.”

“Are we done picking apart my motives now?”

“Yes, we are.” He then nudges her shoulder gently. “Just checking in.”

“I know. I appreciate it. I just—” Before that sentence can go any further, Isaac glances back to the rest of the group and brings a finger to his lips.

“C’mon. We’re here.”

The building itself looks like a run-down shack, something that should have been condemned, rather than used to stash something so incredibly important—but then again, maybe that’s the point. Erica seems to confirm this as she casts a spell, and suddenly the dilapidated edges fall away into a much sturdier looking place. That’s going to be more formidable to break into.

“If I know Ennis, and unfortunately I do, there are probably plenty of traps heading to the inside.” Derek nods. “No visible guards on the outside—”

“I’m definitely making out some in the interior.”

“We should camp and monitor the place. Get an idea of the shifts they’re moving in before we make our move.” Isaac glances back at the rest of them. “Malia and I can take the first shift.”

Allison and Derek look back to Malia in unison, a silent “are you okay with that?” in each of their expressions and she sighs. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

Malia wishes she could feel more optimistic about that, but better this than sputtering out a denial. She can handle it.

She hopes.

* * * * *

The night is quiet. They’ve seen one shift change of Ennis’ people heading in and out, but the numbers aren’t huge. Either he’s keeping something terrible inside, or he doesn’t think this thing, whatever it is, is as valuable.

“This feels like a trap.”

Isaac frowns as he glances over at her. “What do you mean?”

“He stole something powerful enough to kill an archfey if it isn’t returned to them, and he’s keeping it in this dingy little shed with a small guard and a glamor for distraction?” Malia shakes her head. “Nope. This screams trap.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know what he has?”

“Ennis isn’t that stupid.” Malia shakes her head. “Alphas don’t stay alive that long just by being dumb muscle. Where’s his pack? If it really wasn’t valuable, why wouldn’t he have them all camping around it? He’s trying to lure something in.”

Isaac frowns as he turns his attention back to his surroundings. “But why? Who is he trying to trap?”

“That’s the question,” Malia sighs. “How many warlocks does Erica’s patron have?”

“I don’t know. As many as he can, probably? Marin—”

“Marin?” Malia groans. “Of course it’s Marin.”

“You know her?”

“Her brother tends to the groves around our property. He was close with my aunt.” Malia runs a hand through her hair. “Though now that I think about it, this smells like her cryptic bullshit. Erica made a deal with her?”

“It’s not like she had better offers.” Isaac rolls his eyes. “That people were just lining up to help her deal with her problem.”

Malia settles back at that, because that’s fair. Warlocks rarely happen out of the goodness of people’s hearts. She should have known better. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“So what beef do you think Ennis has with Marin?”

“I don’t know. But we should probably find out before we go charging in there.”

Isaac sighs. “Okay. I’ll have Erica ask her.”

Malia makes a face. “Can we leave out the part where I responded poorly to her choice of patron?”

Isaac glances back at her curiously, tipping his head to the side. “We can. But can I ask why?”

“I don’t—” Malia pauses, before she gives a huff. “—She may have made a deal, but her reasons weren’t something she could control. I don’t want her to think that’s why I don’t like her.”

The narrowed eyes turn to a smirk. “But you don’t like her.”

“Not currently.”

“Why?”

Malia doesn’t want to answer that question, doesn’t want to imply it's because Erica is beautiful and close to Isaac, or implies that it has anything to do with Isaac at all. He seems to pick up on it anyway, asshole. He inches closer to her with a smirk.

“It’s not like that, between us.”

“Good for you.”

“I mean, it’s okay if you’re jealous.”

“I am not jealous.”

“I think you’re a little jealous.”

Her teeth grit as she turns to look at him, and suddenly his eyes are right there, and she finds herself caught. He takes the opportunity, smooth operator he is, to lean down and kiss her in that moment. She always knew that he would. And for a moment, she let him. She can’t resist the impulse to give, for just a moment. Let herself remember how it felt.

Then let herself remember how it felt when he was gone, without a word, without even so much as a note. Her fist balls, and she slams it forward, catching him in the gut. He breaks the kiss, doubling over with a wheeze.

“No. We’re not going there again.”

“Right,” he rasps. “Got it.”

She turns back to settle in for the rest of their watch. Hopefully that puts any question about feelings for him to rest.

At least for him.

Edited 2024-06-10 14:33 (UTC)

Isaac can’t say for sure Malia is wrong. This definitely smells like a trap. He also knows they don’t have a choice about going in there to get it. So naturally, the only choice is to go in there and do it himself.

Isaac may not be the most obvious option for a rogue. He’s tall with curly hair and his charm leaves something to be desired. But he is good at being invisible, at not being seen when he doesn’t want to be. He learned a long time ago that he could take up less space, despite not getting any smaller.

He can go in there, get it and get out. Easy peasy.

He quietly eases himself out of camp, making his way down the side of the ravine on quiet feet. He eases up to the window, as the guards rotate out and let himself inside the back. As the additional guards come in, he lands a blow dart hit to each of their necks, dropping them into unconsciousness in front of him. Isaac waits, listening for the sound of anyone else being present, before beginning to search his way through the house.

The door with the glowing pink light under it seems to be a pretty big clue.

Crouching, he examines the exterior for traps, disabling the mechanical ones and teasing the door open to disrupt the edges of the magical ones, breaking the runes. He pushes the door open the rest of the way, and sitting there on a pedestal in the middle of the dark room is Marin’s ruby.

Isaac smiles, making his way forward to reach for it, but as he does, something itches on the back of his neck. He turns to glance over his shoulder and sees the mountain of Ennis rising behind him, eyes glowing red in the darkness.

“Not the mouse I was looking to catch,” he murmurs, one massive hand clamping down on his shoulder, before turning to slam him into the door. Stars scatter in front of his eyes and he drops to the floor. As things go dark, he can hear the huskiness of Ennis’ voice as he says: “But you’ll do.”

* * * * * *

When he comes to, he’s tied to a chair in the middle of the room, right next to the ruby. Ennis is sitting in front of him like he’s been waiting here this whole time, but he can feel the familiar tingle of healing, which makes him think he was healed just enough to bring him back to consciousness. He blinks, trying to assess his surroundings and how restrained he fully is, but Ennis interrupts before his mental calculations can go too far.

“Where is the warlock?”

“What warlock?”

“The one who thought she could get away with stealing from my wife.”

Ah. So this is about Kali. They couldn’t have been sure when they started, but given Ennis’s motivations often come down between power and Kali (occasionally both) Isaac can’t say he’s surprised.

“Nah, not really ringing a bell.”

Ennis sighs. “Did you really think the two of you could get away with stealing from us?”

“Is it really stealing if you stole it from someone else first? I think that could be called ‘reclaiming.’” Part of him hopes that if he kills enough time, Malia and the rest will get away while Ennis is distracted. He’ll find a way out of this.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Ennis doesn’t seem to like that answer, however, and looms in to Isaac’s space. “Do you really think you’re in a position to be fucking with me right now?”

“It was an honest question. Like really, when does the stealing stop? It’s just an endless cycle of people taking other people’s shit.”

One big meaty paw comes up, and he backhands Isaac across the face, knocking him and his chair to the ground. As he lands with a groan, one arm pinched beneath the chair, his view of the window shifts and he sees a silhouette of something against the moonlight. The archer draws back their bow, and as the arrow shoots forward into the room, it splits into a spray of vines, wrapping around the alpha’s torso and pinning his arms to his side. As the other wolf in the room tries to charge in to help, another blast of magic comes from the opposite window and knocks him back into the wall. On that cue, the doors burst open and Malia and Derek charge in, cutting down whoever gets close enough.

Malia clears a path to him and draws a knife to slice through the binds on his arms. “You are a dumbass.”

“Yeah, yeah, yell at me later. Can we get out of here?”

“Let’s go.”

She pulls him to his feet, and he runs, but Malia doesn’t move with him. Instead, she goes back, snatching the ruby off the pedestal, and then turns to follow him. He catches her eye with a smile, and she shakes her head.

“It’s not about you.”

“Sure,” he nods. “Whatever you say.”

Edited 2024-06-17 14:11 (UTC)

They don’t stop moving until they reach the beach a good few miles from where they left Ennis and the remains of his pack. They are going to have to disappear. Malia knows that. It’s a good thing they’re going to see Peter. But that doesn’t cover Isaac and Erica, because as much as she wants to protect him, she doesn’t trust him enough to expose her father and Kate.

That being said, she has an option for him. It’s just not one he’s going to like.

Allison and Derek set camp, with Erica helping dry out the wood, while Malia removes her boots and lets her toes sink into the wet sand just a little. She lets herself reconnect to the rest of the world, feels the rush of the salt water over her toes, and hopes that Ennis takes long enough licking his wounds for them to fly back under the radar. Ennis finding Peter and Kate would arguably be worse.

She feels the sand shift next to her as Isaac moves to settle in next to her, staring out at the ocean.

“So Erica says that rescue plan was your idea.”

Malia rolls her eyes. Damnit Erica. She was just liking you. “Did you really think I would just leave you to rot when we still needed to recover the stone, anyway?”

“No,” he smirks. “But she seemed to imply you were really adamant about it.”

“Oh, gods.”

“Seems to me like you might really like me, or something.”

“I will shove you in the ocean.”

Isaac laughs. “That’s not a no.” He reaches for her gently, nudging her hand with his as he moves closer. “And I’m grateful.”

“You’re not out of the woods yet.” Malia doesn’t push his hand away, letting her fingers brush gently against his. “And you can’t come with us where we’re going.”

Isaac raises an eyebrow slightly. “Is it a special, Hale only club that Allison somehow gets an exception to?”

“Yep.” She will not elaborate. She’s told him some about her father. Told him he was dead, because that’s what you have to tell the rest of the world when that’s the ruse they need to live with. And, as she said, she doesn’t trust him enough to walk that back yet. “So you’re going to need to find someone else to protect you.”

Isaac doesn’t look pleased about that, but he doesn’t fight her on it. Likely because fast as he is, he can’t win against her when she’s already decided. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“I do, actually.” She tips her head to the side. “I think you should go back to the Hale lands and wait for Cora and Boyd to get back.”

“Malia—”

“By the time they get back there, they’ll have the proof they’re looking for against the Dread Doctors. They should get ready to take them down.” Malia squares her shoulders. “You should be part of it. I think it would help.”

“I can’t get into another spot where—”

“I know. But do you trust Cora and Boyd not to let that happen?”

In the end, she’s realized that’s why his abandonment hurt. It isn’t his fear taking hold, but that he doesn’t seem to trust his companions to help protect him and keep him from getting into those situations again. That he wouldn’t give them a chance to do better.

“They can’t promise to stop every blow, Malia.”

“Maybe not. But they can try. Let people try, Isaac.”

He eyes her curiously for a moment, before his expression turns to something of a challenge and takes another step closer. “If I go back and help finish things with Boyd and Cora, does that mean you might let me try?”

Malia considers, because she’s not sure she’s there yet. So she gives him the only answer she can give: “I’ll think about it.”

Isaac grins in response before nodding. “I’ll take it.” He then nods, taking a step back from her and heading back to Erica. “I’ll see you around, Malia. And thank you.”

She watches him go, before turning back to the horizon and letting the ocean continue to wash over her feet. Thinking about it isn’t a promise of anything. But she also suspects that she might not have to do much thinking.

* * * * *

After cleaning off the sand from her feet and regrouping with Derek and Allison, they turn back to the road again. It’s Allison’s turn to scout ahead and Derek falls back in step next to her, nudging Malia gently with his shoulder.

“You okay?”

“Mmm.” She gives a half-hearted shrug because it’s hard to be sure. “I’ll figure it out.” He nods, and she gives it another moment of silence before nudging him back. “Thanks. I know helping them wasn’t exactly on the agenda.”

“Helping your friends isn’t a burden, Malia,” he says with a smile. “Getting to Peter and Kate isn’t life or death, but this clearly was. It was the right thing to do.”

She nods. “Still. Thank you.”

“Anytime.” And with that, he heads over to catch up with Allison, leaving Malia on her own for a bit. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and tries to put thoughts of Isaac and that kiss out of her mind.

At least until she finds out whether he did as she asked.

Edited 2024-06-25 17:47 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

get your words out { 2024 } yahtzee tracking

Running Score: 210 (7/8)Word Count: 27,806

SET #1: PICTURES (ACES) (cora/isaac)

so you strive just to keep up your guard | soulmate au | 300

but the light turned red and i ran it | soulmate au | 300

there's a chance it'll all be alright | soulmate au | 300

you're a pawn that he played | soulmate au | 300

are you gonna be another one of mine? | soulmate au | 300

SET #2: WORDS (FIVES) (bruce/jessica)

i'll look for you if i'm ever back this way | mcu/dceu | 600

they say i'm not worthy to enter your door | mcu/dceu | 600

i'm never gonna fade away | mcu/dceu | 600

i'm nothin' if not consistent | mcu/dceu | 600

there goes my heart beating | mcu/dceu | 500

SET #3: WORDS (SEVENS) (allison/derek)

and here i stand in the strangest land | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 1,000

the little things you planned ain't coming true | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 900

searching for the righteous wave | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 1,200

won't somebody throw me down a line | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 800

spinning softly through the blue now | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 900

SET #4: COMBO (3 OF A KIND) (lydia/scott)

it took me so long to find out i was wrong | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 1,212

it's all about faith in a deeper devotion | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 954

and if i find the key to the eternal dream | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 1,167

SET #5: COMBO (4 OF A KIND) (kate/peter)

you were only waiting for this moment to arrive | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 899

so many things they come and go | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 1,750

well something's lost but something's gained | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 1,198

i'd really like to wake and see the dawn | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 1,268

SET #6: PICTURES (FULL HOUSE) (cora/stiles)

the only thing that you can see | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 1,135

just stand there like a fool and stare | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 1,041

no matter where you roam know our love is true | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 1,004

turned around the vibe i had before i came in | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 835

it will all be better then | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 1,010

SET #7: COMBO (LARGE STRAIGHT) (malia/isaac)

just be waiting on the front steps baby when i get there [part 1] | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 877

just be waiting on the front steps baby when i get there [part 2] | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 1,169

just be waiting on the front steps baby when i get there [part 3] | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 1,335

just be waiting on the front steps baby when i get there [part 4] | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 849

just be waiting on the front steps baby when i get there [part 5] | teen wolf (fantasy au) | 903

Running Score: 210 (7/8)
Word Count: 27,806