Forty
There seemed to be an everlasting silence in the warehouse now. The assassins evacuated the second the alert went through that all contracts had been terminated, and only those unconscious or dead were left behind.
Scott, Lori, and I walked side by side, none of us saying a word about what happened. I could tell Scott preferred it that way as he had to come to terms with what he had almost done. When we reach the others in the main area of the building, it's clear everyone is still on edge, guns and claws at the ready.
Chris and Braeden are checking the assassins laying on the ground around them, making sure they're not able to harm anyone. Derek is on guard next to them, his handgun still poised at his side. Satomi stands at the front of her pack, all of them completely disheveled. Their group parts when they see us, allowing Brett to push his way through, his eyes solely on the young girl beside me.
"Lori," he breathes out, the first of us to break the silence.
All of us watch contentedly as the two siblings race toward each other to embrace.
Kira passes them, coming to stand with Scott and I. She slips her hand into his and he accepts her touch without a second thought. I'm glad to witness life return to his eyes at her presence, a bit of calm restored to him.
"Is it over? Really over?" Kira voices what I'm sure everyone is thinking.
After weeks of being on the run for merely existing, the wolves around me wanted to know if they could finally rest and heal from their immense losses. No one responds outright, but Scott gives her a firm nod that's enough of an answer.
He only looks away from her as his phone alerts him of a message. He uses his free hand to pull the device from his pocket, reading it quickly before looking up at Kira and I.
"It's Lydia. She says we need to go to the station."
Chris, Braeden, and Derek all give us dismissive gestures, urging us to go. It's their way of confirming they could handle things here. The three of us give them grateful goodbyes as we rush to leave the warehouse.
Kira drives behind Scott and I in her car, keeping up with our bikes as we speed through the town, treating required traffic laws as mere suggestions.
When we reach the station, we all park haphazardly before running inside. There's no deputy at the lobby desk waiting to check us in, an indication that we weren't the only ones in the middle of a hectic night. We use their absence as an invitation to walk directly into the main part of the station, finding Lydia, Malia, and Stiles.
"What happened?" I ask when we reach them.
"It was Peter," Malia says. Her eyes are cold at the mention of her father. It makes Stiles lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, and I'm relieved to see Malia lean into his touch rather than reject it again, a sign of their reconciliation.
"Meredith was in the same hospital as him after my grandmother drove her insane," Lydia speaks up, filling in the blanks as the what occurred. "She heard everything Peter thought of while he was in his coma. All of his pain, all of his rage."
Lydia's eyes glaze over as she speaks of her late grandmother. It was hard for her to deal with the fact that a woman she once loved so deeply as a child unintentionally played her part in what had transpired these past few weeks.
Her teary gaze travels across the room. We follow her line of sight, finding Meredith surrounded by deputies. She looks out of place beside them, so frail and meek. I hate that this is the first time I'm seeing her again after her false death.
"Peter planned all of it out in his head," Stiles continues for Lydia, seeing how all of this was beginning to swallow her whole.
"The bonds, the assassins, everything. Meredith didn't know any better."
"Yes, she did," Lydia interjects bitterly. "She just didn't have anyone to help her understand that."
I reach for Lydia, offering a gentle touch on her shoulder.
"It's not your fault," I tell her softly.
Meredith was the only other living banshee we knew of. Lydia felt responsible for her because of that, and it only worsened as she discovered what her grandmother had done. She had practically tortured Meredith, and now we understood it all eventually led to this. Death only served to court more death.
"Where is he?" Scott asks tensely, speaking of Peter.
"He took off," Malia replies, sharing a similar disdained tone as Scott.
Neither of them seemed pleased over Peter's disappearance, but there's not much we can do about it now. Peter would show up again eventually and then go with the wind, as he always did. It wasn't our responsibility to hunt him down.
"What are they gonna do with her?" Kira asks Stiles.
We watch as Meredith is guided by Stilinski and Parrish, heading in our direction. Parrish keeps a gentle hand on her back, providing us with some relief. Not everyone could understand why she did what she did, but Parrish would.
"They're taking her to Eichen. She's going to be put in the Closed Unit," Stiles informs us.
"Does that mean we can't see her?" Scott asks. His best friend shakes his head to confirm, and the pained expression on his face becomes one that we all mirror.
Stilinski and Parrish move to usher Meredith pasts us to the lobby. Through the various glass doors and windows, I can see an Eichen House transport van pulling up out front, ready to take the Walker girl away. There isn't anything we can do but watch. Though, for some reason, Meredith suddenly stops when she nears us, urgently facing Parrish.
"Wait, please. Wait," she begs him, her doe eyes filled with tears.
Parrish hesitates but nods, lifting his hand off of her back to allow her the time to do whatever she wanted to. Her head turns in our direction, but her eyes focus only on me.
"She wanted me to tell you, she'll always be waiting there for you," Meredith whispers in her delicately broken voice. "Forever."
Shock fills me as I recall the memory of what I had thought was once a dream, but now believed to be something real. I can picture it clearly, and almost hear Allison's voice in my head as her vow to me rings clear.
I'll wait for you forever, Jac.
Tears burn my eyes, threatening to escape. I force them away, not because I'm ashamed, but because I don't want Meredith to think her words had brought me any pain. In fact, they've done the exact opposite.
I smile at the banshee, watching her thin face brighten at the act.
"Thank you, Meredith," I say delicately.
She nods as if she'd a soldier who's done their duty, and looks forward once more. Parrish understands that's her way of saying she's ready and moves to continue guiding her outside. The others don't ask me about what the exchange meant, and I'm selfishly glad. It was a promise only a few were privy to hear; one between me and the dead.
"Are they going to help her?" Lydia asks Stilinski.
We watch as Eichen orderlies climb out from the van to take Meredith from Parrish. They put her thin arms into cuffs with more force than needed for someone of her tiny stature, making me wince.
"I'll make sure they do," he says strongly before taking after Parrish.
To the sheriff's credit, I believed he would try to make that happen, but there was something in my gut that told me no one who worked at Eichen ever did it with pure intentions. It was a limbo of sorts, a place for people to go when they needed to exist in a world between life and death; delusion and truth. Very few left its walls being cured, if they ever left at all.
A tap on my shoulder takes my attention away from Meredith.
I turn, finding Scott. He gestures for me to follow him as he enters the sheriff's office. I do as he instructs, walking quietly so as to not draw focus. The girls don't notice our departure, but Stiles watches our every move, his observant eyes trying to discern what was going on, and whether or not he would have to step in.
I pretend not to notice him staring as I join Scott in the room, closing the door behind me.
"Why didn't you stop me?" he asks after a moment of silence. "You saw me losing control in the warehouse, but you didn't do anything."
He doesn't sound upset at me for not intervening, only curious.
"Because it had to be your choice. It didn't matter to me what you did, I'd still be on your side either way," I admit to him.
Scott's eyes drop from mine, an almost shameful action as another burst of silence falls over us.
"I may not have exactly done the best job of telling you how I felt before," he whispers apologetically.
"No, not exactly," I agree with light amusement. Scott offers up a small smile at my tone, but it doesn't last.
"I just didn't want you to feel guilty because I felt guilty," he admits eventually.
"I knew it was hard for you to let her go, even though you tried not to show it, and I couldn't put that on you."
Despite Allison being gone, it felt as though she had never left with the way she continued to haunt Scott and I. It was impossible to move on from her, as her death had created irreparable holes in each of our hearts. I had used aggression in an attempt to fill mine, while Scott hadn't even admitted his existence until recently.
Neither worked, and it left us scrambling to be whole again.
"You said that I saved you, but Jac, the truth is that you're the one whos been saving me. If it weren't for you I don't know what I would've done... what I would've become," Scott confesses, his voice almost fearful. We both know his words hold a great amount of weight after what transpired tonight.
Scott takes a step closer to me, as if physically trying to keep himself from backing down as all of his pent-up truths finally spill from inside of him.
"So I have to keep you safe, and I have to keep you from making the same mistakes I did," he says, pity laced in his tone. It's similar to how he spoke the night of the bonfire.
"Liam," I mutter knowingly, my voice cracking. It was only then that I realized I had begun to cry, thin tears slipping from the corner of my eyes. I make quick work of wiping them away.
"You guys are too young to understand what you're risking by being together," Scott replies.
I had hoped his previous claims about Liam and I being a burden of fate were a side-effect of the frequency the assassin used, but that had clearly been a foolish belief.
"Promise me you won't do what I did. Promise me, you'll find a way to let him go." Scott openly pleads with me.
Kate and Gerard taught me that resenting emotions was the key to strength; that there was no way we could live as one with our fears and affection. They were only a weakness that got in the way. It was ironic that Scott had been the one to help me learn otherwise, and now he was practically asking me to do the same thing.
My mind pulls me into a distant memory, and I'm not standing with Scott anymore, but rather sitting in a dark room alone with Kate.
There had been a table between us, both of us on opposite ends. Cords and wires were wrapped around different parts of my body, connecting me to a polygraph machine. Kate held a piece of paper in one hand, and a riding crop in the other.
"Is the paper white?" she had asked.
"No," I responded with false confidence.
Kate had watched as the machine detected my lie and then reached across the table to whip the surface of my hand. I had winced as it stung but tried not to let it show too much. That always ended up making things worse.
"Again," Kate had ordered before repeating herself. "Is the paper white?"
"No," I had lied unsuccessfully. Kate had the audacity to sigh before striking again as if it was tiring for her to do so. I grunted and bit the inside of my cheek, preventing myself from making another sound.
"Does it hurt?" She'd asked, though she already knew the answer.
"Yes," I replied spitefully through gritted teeth. My hands had grown raw over the hours we'd been practicing, but she hardly batted an eye.
"True," Kate had smirked as the machine confirmed my answer.
"Kate-"
She interrupted me before I could beg her to stop.
"If you get caught on a hunt, your ability to lie could be the difference between life and death. You can't be just as good as them, Jac. You have to be better," Kate ranted. There was truth beneath her aggression.
"Picture the illusion of the lie in your head, and make it your truth," she continued.
"Deep breath. Focus."
I did as she said, and Kate waited for a moment before repeating the damned question.
"Is the paper white?"
"No."
"Attagirl," Kate had smiled, and a bitter sense of joy filled me as her eyes shined with pride.
Scott's voice pulls me away from the memory, grounding me in the present.
"Jac?" He stares at me expectantly.
Deep breath. Focus.
"I promise, Scott."
He stills as he listens to my heartbeat, and his expression relaxes when he doesn't sense any sign of deception. He reaches out, a tentative gesture to see if I was willing to accept his embrace. I step forward and accept his hug easily because my affection for Scott hadn't changed. The only thing that had changed was me, unbeknownst to him.
A knock on the office door makes us pull away from one another. Stiles peeks his head inside, eyeing us hesitantly.
"Everything okay in here?" he asks.
Scott looks at me with a tender smile. "Yeah, we're good. Right?"
"We're good," I agree truthfully.
Stiles breathes out heavily as he fully steps into the office.
"Perfect, 'cause I have some bad news." He looks at me. "I dropped your bank card in Eichen House when Brunski tried to kill me and have no idea where it is."
"I didn't give you my bank card," I argue confusedly.
"Oh yeah, I just took it out of your wallet like last week," he replies matter-of-factly. I scowl at his words, not even aware the card had been missing in the first place.
"What's wrong with you?" I ask him teasingly, not actually bothered. I find there wasn't much Scott and Stiles could do that would ever make me actually resent them. It didn't matter if it was a simple mistake or something utterly gut-wrenching.
"So many things." Stiles grins as if that's something to be proud of.
I shake my head fondly as I push him out of the way to rejoin the girls outside, acting as though my conversation with Scott didn't add an immense amount of weight onto my shoulders. We all leave the station together now that Meredith was gone, our main reason to stay no longer present.
"It's over," Kira says when we exit the lobby. "We did it."
"Only question is, what do we do now?" Stiles asks with a light laugh.
"Shower," Kira replies immediately.
"That sounds like a good idea," I agree, cringing at my partially blood-soaked clothes.
"I could eat," Malia voices her desires for the night.
"And drink wine. Lots of wine," Lydia adds as she wraps her arm through the coyote's. Malia doesn't mind and steps closer to the banshee to provide her with warmth against the cold night air.
Scott's silent, making us look at him as we wait for his answer.
"We go home, and we wait until they need us again," he eventually declares.
The six of us exchange knowing glances at his words.
This town would never truly be at peace, even as we conquered every new threat that challenged it, because there would always be another. All we could do was be ready and do our best to protect the people here; protect our home.
"I give it two hours," Stiles remarks sarcastically before heading toward his Jeep.
I follow his lead to leave, more than ready to return to what I had left behind.
---
My bike's engine echoes obnoxiously through the empty motel lot as I arrive. My headlight acts like a spotlight for Liam as he opens the door to my room, probably hearing me from a mile away. I park in my usual stall and shut off my bike, leaving us both in silence.
"It's over," I tell him as I take off my helmet, unsure of what else to say.
"Scott texted me." He nods along.
The mention of Scott is a sobering reminder.
"I can take you home," I offer, averting my eyes from his.
Liam comes down from the porch making me move up on my seat, expecting him to slide into place beside me. He doesn't, though. He stands beside me, his hand hovering over my obviously injured shoulder.
"You're hurt," he says softly. "Let me help."
Any possible sense of willpower I could have had faded as I look into his eyes, unable to deny him. I can't find my voice so I simply nod and take his hand, allowing him to guide me into my own room.
The first thing I notice when we enter is that almost everything has been straightened. My bed has been made properly, everything on my small kitchenette has been put away, and the things on top of my dresser are placed in a neatly organized display. I glance at Liam, finding him wearing a sheepish expression.
"I got bored," he admits. I laugh in exchange, unbothered. I would rather have him here cleaning, than out in the world and in danger.
He and I move into my bathroom and he lets go of my hand to grab the first-aid kit from my cabinet. I smile to myself at the fact that he's made himself acquainted with the layout of my living space.
I lean against the sink as I watch him, observing his careful actions with close fascination.
He takes the necessary supplies from the small white medical box and lays them out in an orderly fashion on the counter. He also grabs a clean washcloth and moves to dampen it under the sink, coming closer to me by default. Our new proximity allows me to feel the slight press of his body against my side.
"Do you need help with your jacket?" he asks.
I shake my head, knowing my voice wouldn't be steady. I step to the side to separate myself and focus on shrugging off my jacket rather than him. The right side comes off easy, but the left keeps catching on my wound making me wince. Liam notices and gives me a teasing look.
With a sigh, I drop my hands and allow him to pull my jacket off the rest of the way.
"Thanks," I mutter.
"You can just leave it on the floor. I have to toss it," I add, gesturing to the unrepairable tear on the shoulder.
Liam nods and drops the article of clothing at our feet.
"You look better in denim anyway," he murmurs.
He comes closer to me afterward, fiddling with the sleeve of my shirt. He tries to pull it up over the cut on my shoulder but the fabric is too hard to stretch, and the collar is too high to lower. He pulls back and awkwardly clears his throat.
"Um... can you..." Liam gestures toward my upper body, and I grin in amusement at the question he can't bring himself to ask.
"Do you want me to take off my shirt?"
Liam's cheeks fill with color as he blushes deeply, silently nodding.
"Help me?" I laugh quietly at his expense.
Together, he and I lift my shirt off over my head, exposing the vest beneath it. Liam's gaze immediately drops to the single bullet lodged in its center, and his eyes filled with so much pain someone would think he was the one that got shot. He doesn't say anything as he reaches for the velcro straps on either side of me, pulling the vest off. It leaves me with nothing but my underclothing to keep me decent.
Liam focuses on my wound, both of us pretending his skin isn't growing permanently pink. He cleans the drying blood there, rinsing at repeating. When most of its gone he drenches the washcloth with a nasty-smelling medicinal liquid.
"This is gonna hurt," he warns.
He waits for me to give confirmation before pressing the rag into my shoulder, the acidic burn spreading through my arm. I bite back any reaction and focus on Liam's other hand as it gently strokes my side, the movement of his fingers distracting me.
When he's done treating my shoulder, he steps directly in front of me to tend to my forehead. He brushes the stray strands of my hair out of the way to clean and apply medicine to it while cupping my face in his hand.
"You're lucky my dad's a doctor," he says softly, the two of us sharing a smile.
As he works, I watch as his eyes repeatedly drop to a lumpy scar on my right shoulder. It was oddly shaped due to the triangular metal that had once pierced it.
"Crossbow," I answer his unsaid question.
"That's not exactly a weapon that the supernatural use," Liam says, his lips forming a tight line.
"No," I agree. "Not exactly."
His frown only deepens as he understands more than ever that a lot of the damage across my body hadn't only come from hunting, but rather from being hunted.
He allows his hand to fall from my face and reach for my ribs. My breath hitches as he begins to trace over parallel scars that rested there with his fingertips. The delicate and slow touch causes goosebumps to rise all across my body.
"What about these?" he asks lowly.
"An Alpha who didn't know how to clip her toenails," I smirk lightly, making him laugh. Though, I'm sure if he had met Kali and been on the receiving end of her gnarly feet, he'd hardly find it amusing.
His hand drifts to my hip, fingers caressing a path of my skin as he moves.
"And these?" he asks as his warm palm rests over a collection of jagged scars.
"Armed close combat training," I whisper, making him tense. He knew training meant it was from Kate or Gerard, neither of them having a touch as kind as his.
Liam's hand remains on my hip, but his eyes travel to the bandage on my lower stomach. Below it was my wound from the Berserker. His jaw clenches as he glares down at it as if that would reverse any of the damage done. Wanting to ease his worries, I boldly place my hand over his, and guide it to rest over the bandage. Liam carefully runs his thumb over the surface, not daring to risk bringing me any harm.
"It's okay," I say as I keep my hand on top of his.
"It doesn't hurt?" he asks me innocently.
"Not with you." I shake my head.
Liam leans into me, our faces only having a minuscule gap between them. His breath is enticing as it reaches for my lips, and his warmth gives my body the illusion that it's completely covered. I know what he's searching for, but no matter how much I wanted the same thing, I still have to force myself to pull away from him.
Embarrassment is clear on his features and he moves to step away.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
I reach for his wrist, keeping him in place.
"No, it's not you," I say instantly, not wanting him to blame himself.
Liam questions me silently, unsure of what I meant. I had made it plain earlier that I craved the reality of his kiss, so it made no sense for me to refuse him now.
"Scott asked me to make him a promise tonight that I wouldn't feel something for you," I confess, unable to lie to him.
"He thinks the two of us being together is tempting fate. Humans and werewolves, hunters and werewolves, we don't exactly have the best track record."
"And you did it? You made the promise?" Liam asks, eyeing me warily.
"Yes," I say, avoiding his stare shamefully.
Despite my words, Liam doesn't pull away. If anything, he moves closer.
"The same way you promised him we wouldn't leave his house to see Braeden?" he asks.
"...Yes."
Liam has the audacity to smile. It's beautiful and warm, just as he is. He reaches for me once more, taking my face into his tender hand to make me look at him. He caresses the line of my jaw with his thumb, his touch drawing near to my lips.
"I can't."
My words are pleading. I'm asking for him to be the one to end this, to walk away, because I don't have the power to. For once, Liam refuses me.
"Then tell me to go," he orders.
"I can't do that either," I admit.
Liam presses his forehead to mine, closing his eyes.
"I need you, Jac," he says. "Say you need me, too."
I close my eyes as he had, ignoring the sting of tears that affected them.
"I need you," I whisper my broken admission.
He starts to lean in further.
This is what I want; he's what I want, but I couldn't have him.
I dip my head, turning to the side to avoid the connection of his lips. It helps to hide the stray tear that slips down my cheek.
"I'm sorry," I say desperately.
Liam reaches for me, wiping my face clean with the pad of his thumb. It makes me look back at him, finding he's not upset or embarrassed like before, but almost content.
"It's okay," he smiles. "I'll take whatever you'll give me."
It's not fair in the slightest, but I don't rush to debate that with him. Instead, I selfishly wrap my arms around his neck and bury my head into his chest, clinging to him for comfort. He holds me close and tells me this is more than enough.
"Stay," I beg without thinking. "Please, stay with me tonight."
His face shifts as he presses a kiss into my hair. His voice sends shivers down my spine as he speaks against my skin.
"Anything for you," he vows.
The two of us separate after a while, Liam allowing me to shower. I cleanse my body of grime and blood that coated it, then dry myself and change into sweats. Steam pours out from the bathroom when I open the door to venture into the main room.
Liam's already lying in my bed, claiming the right end of the mattress.
"Is this okay?" he asks, watching me closely.
I nod as I move to join him, claiming the empty space at his side. Liam covers both of us with my blanket before laying down fully, facing me. He brushes away damp strands of hair that clung to my face, wanting to see me clearly even in a dark room.
Biting down my cowardice, I slide closer to him.
Liam reaches to pull me closer, too. We only stop when there's no space left between us under the covers. Neither of us says a thing as we stare at each other, the silence more than enough of a conversation.
As sleep begins to tempt me, I feel Liam press a final kiss to my temple.
I close my eyes as he does so, savoring the feel of his lips against my skin, hoping this wouldn't be the last moment I'd feel such a thing.
~
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