♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡
𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 thirty-eight

and where have you been?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

DALLAS GARCIA STOOD outside her father's medical room. With a flask of coffee in her hand and her jacket draped over her arm, she furrowed her eyebrows at his empty bed. The flowers on his table had started to wither away and a handful of petals had already fallen all over his cards - and letter?

She took the moment to step inside and lay eyes on the unusual crumpled-up letter. The siren took it upon herself to unravel the paper and gloss her eyes over its letters. 

"Sending you my love." she mumbled out, "Recover soon." her eyes then dropped to the large white space that occupied the bottom of the page. No signature. 

"No, I hold no ill-will towards the station. Noah," James murmured behind her into his phone. "Yeah, I'll be back soon enough."

He glanced up and stared at the girl who had her back turned to him while she re-read the letter with a confused expression lacing her face. "Marilyn?"

That was what caused her to finally turn to him. "What?" Dallas spoke out between parted lips. She tucked her hair behind her ear and let her hands drop to her sides, still clutching the paper.

That was when James Garcia realised his mistake and cleared his throat. "Sorry. Long day. I wasn't expecting you today?"

She nodded along but her eyes still held a tint of suspicion. "Oh, I brought you some coffee." she lifted up the flask with a wide grin. "I know from personal experience how much hospital food sucks."

He let out a huff of relief and took the flask from her hands. "Thank god. I was certain I'd go crazy." James then set down the flask beside his worksheets that he had transferred from his home-office. Most had already been sent back to the station, however, the lawyer had insisted he'd be fine enough to at least overlook cases. Dallas noticed how he still seemed to let out small grunts of pain every now and then, also trading out his trademark suits for much comfier clothes. 

James attempted to steer the conversation away from his slip-up. "Considering since you're here, I'm gonna assume all that business with that.. thing is done?"

Dallas rolled her eyes. "I don't know if you're referring to the Nogitsune or just Stiles in general." she took a glimpse at his patient expression. "Yeah, it's gone. Scott sent it packing himself with a little help from yours truly."

 "Something tells me Stiles is gonna be avoiding me?" 

Dallas frowned. "Go easy on him, okay?" she took a step forward. "He still hates himself over it."

James shrugged a jacket over his shoulders. "Hey, it's my job to make my daughter's boyfriend feel on edge. Even if they were possessed." 

Dallas had been planning on taking her father home that day. He seemed recovered enough to finally return to Beacon Hills. Yet, before he could slip through the door, she grabbed his attention. "Hey, dad." she rose her hand that held the peculiar letter. "Uh, what's this?"

His heart sank at the sight and it took him a few seconds to regain himself. "Just some condolences from some friends in Beacon Hills." James swallowed hard. "Why?"

"Surely they'd sign it though, right?"

 Jim shook his head anxiously. "Probably done on a whim. I wouldn't run it past Chris to forget something like that."

Dallas noted how it seemed oddly affectionate for a friendly letter but shrugged it off. After all, her father had no reason to lie to her. 

Her father stood in the doorway and replaced the look of guilt with a more light-hearted one. "You coming?"

She stared down at her hands and tucked the letter into her back pocket. "Yeah, I'll be right there. I need some water."

and with that, her father disappeared through the door while clutching his abdomen. Dallas passed through too and headed towards the closest vending machine. The smell of blood, sickness and death entered her nose as she maneuvered her way through the hallways of the hospital. The siren bumped into a few nurses but eventually reached the end of the hall.

Her manicured fingers pressed against the buttons as her other hand dug through her purse. "Such a tragedy, isn't it?" 

Dallas flung her eyes up to a nurse that stood behind her that was most likely waiting for her turn at the machine. "Yeah," she mumbled, unsure of what exactly she meant.

Then she flickered her eyes to where the nurse was looking at - her father signing out of the hospital at the reception. "Wait, what?"

"Came in such critical condition. A real stubborn patient. After he fainted, he kept insisting he saw his wife." The woman gossiped with her, a hot cup of coffee in hand. "He's a widow, poor soul. If it were up to me, I'd have him under psychological evaluation."

Dallas narrowed her eyes and clutched her hands around her water bottle. Brushing the hair out of her face, she faced the nurse. "Watch your mouth." the siren knew how intimidating she could be. "And watch who you're talking to," she mumbled near her ear before shoving past her. 

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

The siren's knuckles grew white as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. He kept insisting he saw his wife. She shook the thoughts out of her ear. I'd have him under psychological evaluation. 

James noticed her odd behaviour from the passenger seat and raised a brow. Alas, he never said anything. Never told her about the letter, his apparent fainting - and more importantly, seeing a dead person. Her hand swerved a little to the side before James leant forward and positioned back onto the wheel. 

"Dallas!" he scolded her. "Eyes on the road. What's up with you?"

She took a deep breath as words began to sink into her head. "Sorry." the Garcia mumbled idly as each echoey thought slipped through her mind. 

Dreadful weather. Should've stayed in Texas.

The Siren attempted to concentrate more and kept her eyes struck on the road ahead, but her mind was elsewhere. 

I'm never gonna hear the end of this from Derek. Fuck sake. 

Where the hell is Marilyn?

Dallas snapped her head to James who was seemingly unaware.  "You never told me you fainted." she then glanced to Jim who narrowed his eyes at her. 

"Dehydration," he mumbled. "Not really worthy of a conversation."

"Yeah, no. You're right." Dallas nodded along. "I mean, whenever I eat people, I tend to feel really bloated after. It sucks. So it wouldn't be that surprising if you'd faint after you saw a dead one." 

"What are you talking about?-"

Dallas spoke over him. "Still getting the hang of this whole siren thing. You were right about keeping up about my water intake, though, hearing thoughts can be draining."

James grew silent. "You've been listening to my thoughts?" the man became defensive. "That's private, why on earth would you do that?"

"Stop deflecting. I wouldn't have to if you'd just tell me the truth." she hissed back. 

As the Garcia residence came into view, more arguing erupted through the car. "Hold on," James hissed before leaning closer to the windshield glass. "Did you leave the door open?"

"Why on earth would I leave the door open?" Dallas snapped. 

James unbuckled his seatbelt idly and turned to his teenager. "Stay here."

The brunette rolled her eyes but complied anyway, scrolling through her messages and keeping her stare at her phone. He made sure to pull out his pistol from the glove department. As the Garcia approached the dimly-lit home, he kept both hands wrapped around the handle. 

"Hello?" Jim's voice echoed through the empty house. 

He met eyes with his empty kitchen, but not as empty as he expected, as a crumpled photograph sat slumped on his kitchen island. The lawyer stalked towards it and furrowed his eyebrows at the sharp key that lay in the heart of the picture. One that seemed all too familiar.

Outside, Dallas remained seated in the driver's side of the car and began to unbuckle her seatbelt but jumped when a knock erupted on the side of her window. She turned her head slightly and rolled down her window, assuming it would either be Noah Stilinski or one of his deputies on the other side. "Look, I have my permit - and parental permission!" Dallas mumbled while rooting through her bag as the tall figure's shadow hung over her window. 

"Sorry, I think I'll still have to cuff you." A sarcastic hum broke out from beside her which caused her to turn her head back towards the window. Stood with his hand pressed against the hood of her father's car and his eyes darting down on her was none other than the troublemaker Stiles Stilinski. 

"Don't do that," she hissed. "I thought I was in trouble there." 

Stiles snickered at her. "Who says you aren't?"

She gave him the side-eye before raising a brow. "How did you even know I was back?"

The Stilinski remained silent for a few moments, scratching the back of his neck and letting out a sigh. "Okay, so maybe I rang up the hospital." he watched as she knitted her eyebrows together. "I gotta apologise, Dallie. I put a hole in his goddamn stomach."

Dallas gave him a comforting look as she pulled the handle of the vehicle and stepped outside. "You're not gonna let this go, are you?" the Siren tilted her head to the side and examined his face. One that seemed to grow a tad red underneath her gaze. "He's inside. The door was open when we arrived so he's checking it out first, but everything seems fine."

"My dad didn't report any break-ins." he frowned before turning back to the siren. "Want me to check it out, too?" 

"I think I can handle myself, Stiles."  the girl bit back a smile. 

As they both reached closer to the house, Stiles shoved his hands in his pockets. "Psh, I get it. You're this hot, undeniably terrifying, slightly sexist, man-eating mermaid." he paused, "But you haven't seen me with a baseball bat."

Dallas rolled her eyes but a smile struck on her face. Even though he was still pent up about the previous weeks, he seemed to have more focus on the future rather than the past. After all, Beacon Hills surely wouldn't be quiet for long. The two wanted to soak up as much normality as possible. 

However, that plan crumbled underneath them as James Garcia remained stood inside and pulling the photograph from underneath the odd key, the smiling faces of the much younger Garcia family stared back. He took a deeper glance at it as both Stiles' and Dallie's voices echoed through the open front door.

"It's the only one I have of her." This voice, however, was different. Familiar enough to cause dread in the pit of his stomach. James felt his body tense up and a presence lingered behind him. "I thought I'd return it. Come back and take some more now that I can."

A part of Jim didn't want to turn his head, that perhaps living in peaceful ignorance would blot up the betrayal that washed over him at the simple sound of her voice. However, the curiosity was much too great. The man spun his head around to face the figure and dropped the photo to the dusted floor.

In the same second, Stiles Stilinski stepped through the door with his chest puffed and his head held high before he immediately met glance with James. The boy then dashed his gaze to where his eyes were glued to - only then did he freeze up too.

Behind him, Dallas bumped into his back after his sudden stop and almost tripped over her feet. Before she could fall too far, though, she steadied herself against Stiles while her hair fell over her shoulders. "Jeez, is he that scary?"

She noticed the silence and the bewildered look he held on his face. "What's happened?" The Garcia hummed before peeking past his arm.

Dallas could handle werewolves. She could handle Void. Hell, she could even handle being Peter's chew toy on her prom night. 

What she most definitely could not handle, was the sight she saw right now. She blinked a few times to make sure it was real - and when her eyes started to tear up, only then did she realise it was. 

She felt her heart sink through the gaps of her ribs as she watched Marilyn Garcia connect eyes with her from beside the stairs with a teary look, her face barely a day older than it was the last time Dallas saw it. Her lips parted and for the first time in seven years, did she hear her voice once again.

"Hi, sweetheart."

☆ word count: 2,210. ☆

A/N: holy fcking shit, next chapter is gonna be angsty