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.*･｡. AN ODE TO CLARK KENT .*･｡.
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036.
GUIDING LIGHT.
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——

   Lois cursed, pulling the phone away from her ear as the familiar voicemail sounded. She hung up as the tone chimed, "No— she's still not answering."

   Everyone in the car heaved a sigh. Their shoulders sagged, and they listened to Lois try and dial the number again. She knew that the phone had been switched off; it didn't even ring anymore, it just kept going straight to voicemail. If the phone was on, then she was dodging Lois' calls as quickly as they came through — which, they doubted. It was definitely turned off.

    "I can't believe that my own daughter thinks I've been the one to commit all these ritual, human sacrifices..." Chris rubbed his face.

    "I can't believe you're not committing ritual sacrifices."

Matthew and Chris shot Isaac a look.

He shrugged.

"I can't believe you two have been working together this entire time and didn't tell us," Lois mumbled, throwing her phone to the side. Allison wasn't going to pick up; that much was clear, so what was the point in trying? There wasn't one, not that Lois could see.

To say she was bitter would have been an understatement. Lois was pissed. Hadn't they thought that telling the kids that they were working in a covert operation to track down the Darach would've been a good idea? One that might have benefitted everyone in the long run? Apparently not. Because Lois and Isaac had to find out in an almost attempt to murder Chris Argent before he murdered Matthew Lane — thinking he was the one to be committing ritual sacrifices — and Allison was likely already on her way to save Mr Westover (who Lydia had told them was now missing) from Chris' assumably murderous clutches. When, really, Chris wasn't the one they were looking for and, rather, he and Lois' father had been on the hunt for the Darach since the first batch of sacrifices.

It all made her head spin.

Apparently Matthew Lane knew more than he had let on, more than what Lois had been telling him, and he and Chris had taken matters into their own hands. Lois vaguely wondered what had ever happened to the Argents' fresh start they had decided on after last year — neither of them had stuck to it, much.

Sure, it wasn't the worst thing they could have done, but it would have been helpful to know about it.

"And you're a saint, Lo?" Matthew turned to look at her from his place in the passenger side of Argent's car, "Yeah— don't think that I didn't see what you did, in there. Didn't tell me about that, huh?"

   She shot him a sour look, "It's kinda new."

    "I gathered."

   They shared a father-daughter look that was strictly reserved for when they were in an argument, both turning to slump back into their seats with matching frowns. If it had been a better situation, Isaac might have laughed at how similar they were. But it wasn't a better situation, and they still had to try and get to Allison before it became common knowledge that her father was the Darach, so he smothered his laugh with a forced cough. Not very discreet, but no one said anything about it.

"Look— we can all sit down and have a big, dysfunctional family discussion about this later, alright?" Chris sighed, parking the car with a crank of the handbrake. "We all have other things we need to do first."

All three of them nodded — even Isaac, who wasn't apart of the Argent family, or the Lane's. He felt like he should agree, anyway.

Lois unclipped her seatbelt and slipped put of the car, peering up at the old warehouse building with a frown. It looked run down and most definitely abandoned, and if it hadn't been for the very car she knew to be Allison's on the left of them, then Lois wouldn't have thought the girl to be in there, at all. The creepiness of it was enough to give her the heebie-jeebies. Isaac noticed and muttered that she was being a baby. Lois scowled.

Admittedly, he didn't think it looked very safe, either.

"How do we know he's in there?"

"Believe me," Chris clipped his guns with loaded bullet rounds, looking at Isaac. Matthew did the same with the gun he was given, "She took him, here."

"Good enough for me," Lois shrugged.

"You two need to go in first, Allison will come to you guys." Her father clicked off his safety. The two teens looked at him as if he'd gone crazy — he wanted them to go in there alone? Without Chris, an experienced hunter? "We'll be right behind you."

    "Dad—"

    "Nothings gonna happen to you, Lo." He promised, "I swear."

    "Allison thinks I'm the killer," Chris added on, "I have a hard time believing she'll come to me, over you guys."

    "You lead, and we'll follow you."

   Isaac rose a brow, "What if the Darach tries to kill us?"

    "You've got claws and Lois has..." Pausing, Matthew hesitated on what to call it. "Whatever that is." He frowned, "Which we'll be talking about when we get home, young lady. I want answers."

   Smiling tightly, Lois sent him a sarcastic thumbs up. She wasn't sure there would be much talking involved, seeing as she had no idea what power she had or why; the conversation would be short, and hardly satisfying. There was no way of providing him with the answers that she didn't even have, herself. After all, Lois was still learning. That was why she hadn't told him yet, but she supposed he had to find out eventually. It was an important detail, kinda. He deserved to know, he was her father, but he would have plenty of questions that she didn't have the right responses to. Really, it was going to be a lot more confusing than it would be informative. He would have wished he had never even asked, by the end of it. Lois was dreading that conversation.

    "You kids'll be fine," Chris said to them, "We're here to save your teacher. Go."

   His words lacked room to argue, and so the pair shared a look, then sighed and made their way towards the warehouse. Lois was still creeped out by the idea of the Darach being inside, ready for sacrifice eight, but the need to save another one of their multiple missing teachers and inform Allison Argent that her father wasn't the Darach definitely overpowered the chills tingling Lois' spine. 

   They were relatively quiet as they edged through the doors, feet light in their boots. Lois went first, although she felt it right for the literal werewolf to take the lead. He didn't agree. But he did place his hand on her lower back, finger gracing her jacket, which made her feel a little better.

Not much, but a little.

"This place is gross..." she muttered.

Isaac agreed, humming under his breath. Her words had briefly reminded him of months prior, when staring at Jackson's body as it cocooned.

It was pretty gross, in that warehouse; not kanima venom gross, but close. There was dust everywhere, dirt all over the floors, but it was abandoned, so they couldn't expect much more. Their teacher would be there as a human sacrifice due to its spot on the telluric current, not because it was a homely place that he deemed a good spot for a parent-teacher meeting. Regardless, it was a pretty damn disgusting building that neither teen seemed able to get over. Isaac wrinkled his nose, unable to ignore it when he stood in something questionable. He heaved a sigh.

"Hell of a place to die."

Lois rolled her eyes, shooting him a sharp look.

Nobody would be dying, hopefully. Not if they could help it.

Not anymore.

"Y'know— I never really liked Mr Westover," the beta mused, a shrug in his shoulders as he peered around. "He failed me, twice."

"And, that's his fault?" She criticised, voice low, barely looking at him over her shoulder as she shuffled further into the building. His eyes were on her back, narrowed, but she hardly cared. "Can't fail a passing student, genius."

"He didn't like me."

"He can join the club," Lois quipped.

    "You didn't like me, back then?" Isaac rose a brow, curious but also nervous to hear her response. He hadn't thought much about it, really. "What'd I do to you in our freshman year, history class?"

    "I didn't dislike you," she said, "I barely knew you."

    "I sat behind you," he pointed out. "Everyday, all year. Did you know your hair was always messier, on Tuesdays? I think that day of the week you rode on the handlebars of Scott's bike," when her eyebrows turned upwards, inquisitive as to all his knowledge, Isaac shrugged. "Scott used to chain his bike at the stand next to me, a lot." He saw her face falter, and he chuckled dryly. "And you don't remember. Classic, Lois..."

   She'd have been lying, if she said she didn't feel guilty. He was right — Lois had hardly noticed Isaac Lahey, back then. All there was to him was the fact that he was quiet, and sat at the desk that was directly behind her, all year. Other than that, Isaac was just a nobody in Beacon Hills. Just like Boyd and Erica.

    "Freshman year was—" Lois thought about it, "—strange."

    "You were still pretty new," he nodded, "I remember you went to every morning lacrosse practise," then he added on, "You still do."

"Of course, I do."

"But you don't like lacrosse?"

"I go for Stiles and Scott," she told him, "And for Danny." Lois dared not forget their goalie.

   Isaac stayed quiet for a moment, then spoke; "I sat behind you for the whole of freshman year, in Westover's history class. And you only spoke to me, once. Did you know, that?"

    "I did?" Was she really asking that?

    "You asked me for a pen," the beta recited her words. "Number 14, right?" He smiled at her, albeit fondly, and shook his head. The sweet moment was broken by his next statement, "I never got that pen back, by the way."

"Seriously?"

"Dead." Isaac said.

"Scratch what I said," she looked back at the warehouse, which was what they were supposed to be doing, with a crease in the very middle of her forehead. Lois grit her teeth in mild frustration, but it wasn't as much as she wished. "Maybe I didn't like you freshman year, and maybe I still don't like you, now."

"Just when I thought we were getting along," Isaac feigned a sad sigh, to which she scoffed and ignored him. "You wound me, Lois Lane. Really. I mean it— and I thought we were almost friends?"

"Do you know how to shut up?"

"...you want me to answer that, honestly?"

"Not really," she breathed. "Look— I don't care if Mr Westover hated you, or not. Or if I hated you, or not. We're not leaving this place, without him." Lois straightened up her back slightly, feeling on edge, but kept her movement slow and cautious, just in case the worst was thrust upon them. Maybe the Darach had supernatural level hearing? At this rate, it was totally possible. "Are you getting a hold of anything? Scott usually follows his senses,"

"I smell blood," he told her honestly, face in a slight grimace as he sniffed the air.

Lois tried to ignore her paling cheeks. It wouldn't be the first time she had found a person beaten and bloody, or a dead body, but the blood never got much easier to digest. Especially not since Jackson had died, then come back to life, then died and come back to life, again. When she had told the rich boy about his death, he hadn't been as fazed by it as she had been — in fact, Jackson had laughed in the faces of Beacon Hills hospital staff for declaring him dead as a corpse could get. Lois, on the other hand, didn't find it all that funny. Not when she was the one who had to deal with it. She still felt queasy thinking about that night.

"Can you tell what direction?" She asked.

"No... I'm not that good at this, yet." He shook his head, "It's still hard to tell. Lots of smells," Isaac's eyes flickered back to her, "You should go back to your old perfume, by the way."

"Hey—!"

"Wait—" Isaac hushed her, head tilting to the left with his ears perked. His hand instinctively went to block her path and stop her from walking into harms way, "Does Allison walk heavier on her left foot?"

"It wears down all her shoes," recalling a conversation they had all had (the girls) around winter formal, Lois confirmed it. "Why?"

Eyes following his stare, Lois squinted at the far end of the part of the warehouse they were in. It was two large, metal doors, like the ones they had come through. For some reason, they felt even more intimidating than the last ones. Lois' stomach twisted and it turned, and she wondered whether the warehouse got colder with every step inside; she was suddenly shaking. Isaac jutted his jaw in that direction.

"'Cause that means she's through there."

   After exchanging a nervous look, Lois took the lead again, as she made her way forwards and towards the doors. Isaac followed not far behind, glancing around to see whether Chris and Matthew had caught up to them, yet. He couldn't hear them, a fact that had his tummy twisting, and firmly hoping that his senses were just off because of his nerves. For the first time in a while, Isaac was a big bag of nerves when going into a fight — perhaps it was because he had never seen a threat like the Darach, or because he had no idea where Scott and Derek were (the two werewolves he trusted), or it could have even been that Lois Lane had already ducked through the doors and into the next section of the warehouse before Isaac had a chance to follow and make sure she was out of harms way.

   It definitely could have been the last one, seeing as he quickly went to scramble after her.

    "Lois!" He hissed, "Lois!"

   Said girl ignored him and tuned him out under a heavy sigh of relief, upon seeing Allison Argent in the middle of the warehouse with a dagger in hand. Thank god.

    "Do you know how to answer your phone?" Lois interrogated as she walked towards her, watching Allison spin on her heels with a face of confusion. "I've called you eighty times!" She sighed, "You need to listen to me, okay? It's not him, we were wrong."

    "What's not who?" Allison repeated, "Lo, what are you doing here? How did you know where to find me?"

    "It's not him!" She said, "The Darach isn't your—"

    "Lois! Watch out!"

   Cutting herself off, Lois whipped around to look at Isaac, who was racing towards them with glowing eyes. The movement saved her life, seeing as a shard of glass flew past her head and skimmed her left ear — if she hadn't turned, it would have collided with her face. She let out a shaky breath.

   Isaac nearly crashed into her. He held either of her biceps as he skidded to a halt, pulling her closer to him without much coherent thought. That happened a lot, with Lois. Isaac often didn't think, he just did.

She clung to him, jackets tightly between her fingers, and let the beta turn them in the direction that the glass had come from. Lois' vision wasn't always the best, but she could tell as well as Isaac and Allison that it had come from a room — a room with a struggling silhouette of a man with a garrotte around his neck, and a hissing and slashed up face peering over his shoulder.

The Darach.

Allison wasted no time in darting towards the room, meanwhile Isaac and Lois were too taken aback to immediately chase after her. But, after a moment, Lois came to her senses and broke free of Isaac's grip, rushing after the huntress; "Allison! No! Wait—!"

"Get down!"

   Grabbing Allison's arm, Lois tugged them both to the ground as bullets began to fly over their heads. Her father and Chris' voices became distant ringing, lost within the repel of metal against wire, and her hands started to shake. It all made Lois feel dizzy. It made her brain tumble within her skull, her eyes squeezing firmly shut as she let go of the huntress to cover her head with wild arms. In that moment, she was no longer in the old warehouse; rather, she was on the ground in Beacon Hills Sheriff Station, gunfire above her, crimson on her sleeve as she struggled to find Scott McCall. Matt was going to find her, he was going to kill her, and Lois needed to find Scott McCall. She wanted Scott.

   She curled up into a tight ball. Knees to her chest, head tucked, fetal position. Whimpers passed her lips and she wasn't sure when the gunfire ceased, but Lois still didn't feel safe enough to uncoil.

   If she opened her eyes, she was positive wherever she looked Matt would be staring back at her.

   He still haunted her.

   If I can't have you, no one can. If I can't have you, no one can. If I can't have you—!

    "Lois?"

   A voice made her flinch, jolting her trembling body away from their touch. She was stuck. Caught in a headspace that convinced her she was unsafe, that she was back in the trauma that kept her awake at night, that she pondered endlessly in a question of how she had even survived it. How had she survived that?

   It was like a tunnel that failed to have an end. Lois was running through the darkness, seeking any ounce of light she could find in the bitter black, but there was none. There was no light. Lois had wondered whether there would ever be any light ever again, but it did come — eventually. When the voice got closer, so did the light. That voice was soft, warm, soothing. And it wasn't the voice that belonged to the Matt that still lived in her dreams. Actually, there was nothing of Matt's at all.

   Not his touch gripping tightly onto her arm, not the gun pressed into her temple, not his booming shouts for her to give in. Not the click of his camera to fuel his creepy obsession, not his dark stare that bore into the side of her head. Nothing.

   None of it belonged to Matt.

   Because it belonged to Isaac, instead.

   Light was found when her teary eyes slowly cracked open, and a pair of effortless amber lit the small space between them. His left hand gently grazed her waist while his right found refuge on her cheek. Upon noticing the steady decrease of her heart, Isaac's eyes returned to their usual blue, and he carefully brought her closer to him. He didn't care that they were still on the ground. He didn't care that her body was stiff and rigid, or that her nose was a runny mess, or that his hip awkwardly dug into the rubble and cement of the warehouse floor. Isaac didn't even care that her father was now watching, alongside Allison and her father. Isaac didn't care at all, because Lois found the light. A light to centre her, to bring her out of the dismal darkness. And she found it within him.

   It brought her back from whatever dark place she had been kept captive in, and it brought her back to the present moment. Out of the past and to the now. Right now. With her arms looping loosely around his middle and her head buried into the crook of his neck as she let him sit her up. The now, where she felt so fragile within his arms that he feared she could break into several pieces. But she wouldn't. Lois couldn't, because Isaac would hold her together.

——

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