A random thought occurred to me while listening to a particular song and decided to create a one-shot. Inspired by the song "Take Her to the Moon" by Moira Dela Torre. It's really great and I don't normally promote such songs but it's really good in my opinion.
Some of the lyrics are incorporated into the fic as the song is used as a base inspiration for the one-shot.
This is basically a future fic with Scott and Malia living together. They're both in college. Heavy hints to Scalia and Scallison.
Anyways, happy reading!
"Hold on, what are you doing?"
Scott heard the sheets rustle and smiled to himself while buttoning his polo shirt, turning around with a cup of coffee to greet his girlfriend, someone who is evidently not a morning person, before he swerved right in and leaned to plant a kiss on her forehead, earning a disgruntled look from Malia.
"I'm going to work. I've got a part-time job, remember?" Scott raised his brow and opened his arms, looking around at the massive loft that Derek had loaned him. "How am I suppose to pay Derek rent if I don't have a job?" Malia stared at him like he was crazy and gave him a serious look.
"You don't." Scott laughed and grinned, chuckling as he grabbed his bag. "You threaten him, snarl with fangs and all so you won't have to work on your midterm break!" Malia tried to protest but he headed for the door, grabbing a few calorie bars for the day to satisfy his supernatural metabolism, all the while smiling because he realized that it was all a ploy to keep him at the apartment.
But he left for Stiles' jeep anyway, keys in hand, heading for the car park near the lobby of the building knowing Malia was fine and that she'd probably go over to Kira's apartment downtown, catch up and probably learn how to climb rough mountain sides for fun when he saw a familiar looking man.
It was the mailman, Mr. Walters, who had thinning silver hair and some glasses he'd have to occasionally have to push up his nose whenever he's putting mail in everyone's boxes. Smiling at him, Scott waved at him and the old man beamed up, chuckling deep and stepping forward to greet him. "Hey! Young man, aren't you Scott McCall from Apartment, eh," Mr. Walters squinted through his glasses and stared at the envelope, concentrating as if it was really important, "Apartment 6B?"
Scott nodded, squinting his eyes and turning his head trying to see who it was from and wondered why they decided to send an actual letter instead of an email when his phone rang. Mr. Walters scowled, annoyed at the continuous ringing and all Scott could do was sheepishly grin. "Sorry," he said as he took the phone out, seeing that Argent left him a message.
Scott's happy mood immediately turned south and opened the text, seeing the vague message of, "Tried calling earlier. Call me when you have free time. I'm your mom's.", and he didn't know how exactly he'd feel about the message but all that he knew was that he's going to blow off Deaton for this.
Rushing to text a lousy message to Deaton why he'd be absent for work, Scott rushed to get through the doors of the building when a voice called after him.
Scott cursed internally. It was Mr. Walters who was running after him, panting a bit after crossing the lobby as fast as he can just to give him the stack of letters. "You shouldn't forget about this, kid." Mr. Walters gave him a good-natured smile, patting him in the back. "I remember the first letter I wrote home from abroad, begged God that my wife, Janey, would get it even with the whole war going on back then in France with the blitz." The old man recounted and as much as Scott didn't want to come off as uninterested, he raced out through the doors.
"Kids these days," Scott heard Mr. Walters mutter, his heartbeat steady. Scott sighed in relief, knowing that Mr, Walters, the friendly neighborhood mailman, didn't hold a grudge against him and his less than ideal exit from a conversation about his difficulties in a trying time like World War II.
But as much as he wanted to stick around, Scott ran to the jeep as fast as he can, a part of his mind worrying that, like back then during their encounter with the onis at Eichen, he'd be too late with his mom and Argent.
Like how he was too late with Allison.
Managing to get to his Mom's house, Scott rushed inside, not bothering to take notice of the calm heartbeats and raised a confused brow when he saw his mother and Argent talking about a new lawnmower and a brand of coffee beans that apparently tasted more full and rich with a slight hint of chocolate.
It would be an understatement to say that he's thoroughly confused.
"Argent? What's wrong, what's the emergency?" Scott breathed out when his Mom gestured for him to sit down and enjoy a glass of lemonade. Argent, in return raised a brow before realizing what happened and gave out a breathy laugh when he took out his phone and realized how the text message sounded like.
"Ah, no wonder you rushed over here like the world was ending," he joked, standing up from his chair, his mother following him into the closet where, from the dining room, he could see a dusty box taped shut. "Scott, see, I've been talking to a cousin in France, who found some stuff I left behind, I thought about giving this to you, something I thought you'd want." Argent said over his shoulder before he lifted the box into the living room where they met half-way.
Scott looked confused. "You called me over for some souvenirs?" Argent laughed but soon smiled sadly, threw an arm over his shoulder and looked down, pointing at the writing on top. The familiar writing scrawled out, "To Scott". Familiar handwriting, familiar crossed t's that reminded him of a pen he gave to a girl so long ago that he forgot the color of the ink but he remembered her expression, the soft thanks that she said right after.
The box had looked like it had water marks all over it and it primarily smelled of dust bunnies but it hid a familiar scent, a certain silver-bogged and boutique bought jackets scent that he wouldn't forget, not in a million years.
For a second, everyone was silent, too caught up in the moment to say anything.
It wasn't until Scott managed to muster up the courage to ask even though he knew who owned it then. To who the box belonged to. "Allison." But in the end it wasn't a question. It wasn't anything like a question and it was more like a confirmation. "How. . . ?"
Argent wiped a few tears and cleared his throat with a cough before pointing at the box, the side which still had some postage stamps from France. "My cousin had the stuff I left behind delivered. . .along with the stuff Allison left behind." Scott opened the box and found some memorabilia, some stationary letter sets, a few jackets, and a picture of them with an inscription written on it.
There some stuff like Allison's phone and her crossbow. "I also took the liberty of placing some of Allison's stuff inside. I thought of getting rid of it but I realized that it's not really mine to get rid of, now is it?" Argent gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. "I think that she'd want Lydia to have some of her stuff." His step-father commented, but Scott didn't quite listen. Instead, he pushed around some of the items placed on top and went for the stack of letters littered all over the box.
Scott held the letter higher and squinted at the neat, yet twirly cursive writing that was so clearly Allison. It was only when he saw the postage stamp when he realized that the inscription was written in French.
Clearing his throat to make sure his voice won't break, Scott turned to face Argent. "Do you—do you know what it means?" his voice almost broke but Argent nodded and took the picture from his hands, slowly grazing his thumb over the writing. Scott could hear Argent's heartbeat, the unsteady beating brought back painful memories and he remembered how they both lost her that night.
Argent swallowed. "It means, be happy. Don't be afraid to be happy." There was a moment of silence, and Scott could only stare at the photograph, the flimsy piece of glossy paper sitting inside Argent's palm, who coughed to clear his throat. "I, uhm, my cousin in France sent over some letters—letters Allison left behind." Suddenly, Scott's bag felt heavy and his chest constricted. "I think that Allison has a few letters she wrote after we got back from France." Argent peered over and pointed at a stack near the side. "It's over there. She would write whenever she felt the need to just release her emotions. Something she picked up from our relatives in Nice and Paris."
Slowly, Scott took the letters out, only now noticing the stamps from France on some envelopes. "You mean these?" his mouth hung open and his eyebrows furrowed together, confused and conflicted. "You mean, she thought of writing to me?" Scott felt like his entire summer that year, his resolve, fading into nothingness and he couldn't fathom the idea, he couldn't understand. "I. . .I don't. . .why?"
Suddenly, his mother was gone and Scott was alone with Argent, both their heartbeats are racing. "She thought of you the whole while we were there in France." Argent confessed, looking over at the box and seeing the other stationary letters and photos Allison had left behind. "Every time she would get tempted to give you a call or send text, she didn't know I was there or that I know but I was and I knew that she'd write a letter, and—" Argent gave a teary laugh, holding up his fist to his lips to stop a sob from escaping when he saw a little keepsake, a keychain with their names, "—she'd address it to you."
Scott looked like a fish out of water and he sure felt like one. "Me?"
Argent smiled. "Yeah, you." he made a move to hand some of the items and keepsakes inside the box but Scott moved out of the way, still in denial and he was confused. Really confused. "Scott?"
Scott shook his head, clenched his fist around the letters and started breathing rapidly. He was really confused and his head started spinning. He heard Argent's voice calling him and his mother was suddenly in the room and he couldn't breathe. "I'm sorry. I can't be here. Not now." Scott ran out of the house and head straight for his car and drove without a destination in mind. He just drove through the road, the skyline splitting into two, the orange tone turning to a darker hue.
Stepping out of the car, he realized he drove to the look-out point where he and Allison spent so many sleepless nights, whether it was for them or for the people they needed to protect. Still inside the car was his bag and the letters sat there, crumpled and tossed into the ground and he dived right in for those envelopes, ripping open the paper.
Scott breathed out, wiping a few tears from his eyes before slowing down when he finally got the letter in his hands. He carefully opened the envelope and unfolded the letter and saw, for the first time in 4 years, the familiar and loopy cursive handwriting Allison had.
He smelled the parchment paper and the ink all at one, combined with the faint and lingering scent of her skin was all too much to bear at the moment but he began reading.
"Scott,
I know that it's been a while since our eyes last met, I know that so many words between us were left unsaid before I decided to get up and run away to France. I still remember your head poking out of the door frame, eyes full of tears when all I left you was a kiss to end things so suddenly. When I broke up with you.
Listen, I know what I said about trying to move on, about how I need to get the mental picture of killing you out my head, of needing to move on but is it so bad that I just want to hold on to you as much as I can, for as long as I can?
No matter what I do, Scott, I still feel the both of us coming back to each other—"
Scott finished reading the first letter and decided that it was scrapped, noticing a huge part of the paper left empty and unused.
He slowly folded the letter neatly and placed it back inside the envelope before setting it down. Soon, his eyes landed on another letter, still addressed to him from France.
"Scott,
I know I said that we needed time apart from each other and that I'd use the entire summer to try and get over the horrible things that happened between us but I couldn't really help it—I called Lydia the other day to ask how you were."
Scott stopped reading for a while as he gingerly pressed his thumb against a spot on the paper. The ink was smeared across and the writing had faded. Scott felt his chest tighten when he realized that Allison was crying when she had written this letter. It was faint but he caught the chemo-scent.
And the tear stain was still there and a part of him wished he was there to wipe her tears away.
"She told me that you were sulking around with Stiles and Isaac, that you're miserable, and even though I'll never send this letter to you so it's safe to say that I'm probably going crazy as I'm ranting to you with a letter, didn't I tell you to move on?
Scott, I can't handle being the person who broke your heart. You may be okay with being a martyr, but I can't, Scott, I love you too much for that. I will always love you too much to let you break your heart and wait for me when I'm miles and miles away from you, when being with you will only bring the worst out of the both of us.
I can't ask you to sit out and wait for me when I'm not sure that I'm the right person you should be with. I can't let you wait out for me, the idea of us, when I know that I don't deserve that love. Not right now.
God, Scott, there is nothing more I'd want in this world than to stick around and help you fight back your tears, tell you that I'm still there for you. I promise you, there is nothing I want more but if I do that, I feel like we'll always come running back to each other when we both know that we'll end up making the same mistakes. We'll come back to each other even though he never will, not in the way we should.
We'll come back to each other when we both know that we can never do again.
I love you, Scott, and I hope one day you understand why I have to leave, why I have to set you free."
The letter ended there, and Scott looked up at the sky and shook his head. He didn't care if she broke his heart a thousand times. Scott set the letter down, not bothering to fold it back when he saw a peculiar letter, one with a different scent.
Scott lifted the envelope to his nose and sighed. It smelled like gasoline and tons of it. There was also a hint of a flare, the chemicals lit and and the fire burning still cemented within the confines of the folded envelope. Scott also caught a whiff of that panic Allison had, the helplessness she had.
"Scott,
I would never admit it to your face, but I watched you sleep.
I'm sorry, but I couldn't get myself to stop looking at you. I felt like if I took my eyes away from you, the only time I would see you again was by a rainbow's end when I die only to be reunited with you.
I remember the time when Dad and I left for the airport. I know that you were there, watching us—me—leave. I know that you were crying, and I know that you wanted to be selfish and beg me to stay. But you didn't, you just kept watching until we disappeared inside the airport.
But I couldn't just leave that time, you know? I felt paralyzed and helpless, Scott, when the thought of leaving you behind crossed my mind every time I look at that ticket.
I honestly thought that I'd never have that feeling again, that it's something well in the past. But I was wrong, Scott! I felt exactly the same when you were standing in a pool of gasoline in the middle of the parking lot, holding a flare lit up and you were ready to go out in a blast that would have wiped you from the face of this earth.
Scott, I was there. I saw that look on your face, that helpless and dejected look, the very same look that I saw you had on the day I left the country for France. And I saw it again, just a few hours ago, when you were trying to take your life away.
It's not the wolfsbane, Scott.
Scott, please don't forget that you are so loved. You have my heart. No matter where you are, Scott, I will love you and you will have my heart.
Don't leave me, Scott. Don't die on me."
Scott remembered spending the night on that bus, and he remembered that Allison kept glancing at his spot, kept shooting him looks. Scott inhaled sharply. Allison always looked out for him.
Gently, he folded the letter back and put it away and picked a new envelope up and lifted it up to his nose—it smelled of sweat and neon paint, along with hints of alcohol.
He turned the letter around and saw the address: Allison's old apartment, the one where she and Argent stayed at during the entire nogitsune fiasco.
"Scott,
We saw each other at Danny's blackout party.
It's actually been a while since our eyes met like that. It kind of felt good actually, being able to that again with you.
These past few weeks have honestly been hell for me, do you know that? With school and then this nogitsune business. . .and then there's you with Kira.
I won't lie, it hurt at first, seeing you with her like that. It hurt seeing her make you smile the way I did, see you look at her the way you looked at me. But it's not like I could blame you. I couldn't complain, Scott, because we both need to move on.
I guess, what I'm trying to say here is that I'm happy. Why? Because you're finally doing what I've told you to do ever since our break-up: be happy.
I'm happy for you, Scott, that you've finally allowed yourself to move on and stop waiting for me.
So, when I finally get the courage to send this to you, hopefully by the time we defeat this demon-fox-trickster-spirit thing, I want you to do this, not just Kira, but maybe to all the girls you'll love after me: take her to the moon for me.
Scott, we always made these impossible promises to each other. It's kind of like promising me the stars. Or maybe like promising to take me to the moon, and I feel like if I asked you that, you would have. Scott, I know that, with your heart and your amazing capacity to love, I know that you would do everything and anything in your power to make me happy. To take me to the moon.
So, you know what? Don't take me—take her.
Whoever you find yourself falling in love with, Scott, promise me that you'll take her to the moon. Take her there like how you always promised me you would.
Say you love her every time, just like how you told me the last time."
Scott finished the letter and took the last one out. The last letter actually differently, like it was made in a rush. It also smelled like silver, smelted silver that left him with an uneasy stomach and remembered that the first and only time Allison had used silver as her weapon was with the onis.
Her chemo-scent felt heavy, like there was finality to it. It was like Allison knew that she was going to die, that the letter was her way of saying goodbye.
"Hey, Scott,
I don't really know why I'm writing this letter—well, actually I do know and it's to pass some time while making some arrowheads—but it felt right, you know? Having a letter just in case something bad happens to either one of us.
I've got this crazy idea, I'm not sure if it'll even work but I remembered something with my Dad's story: he was just fresh out of hunter training, Scott, the first solo mission that Gerard had sent him on. He had just graduated!
Dad probably had silver bullets with him, Scott. There's a chance we might defeat the onis with silver!
I know it's a long shot but I'm willing to take that risk, kind of like how you would always do.
I know that we've talked after Danny's blackout party. We're already seeing other people, Scott, and I'm okay with that.
But with all that's happening, all the growing up and the moving on we've been doing, I guess that it kept on giving me a question and it kept bugging me until I faced it.
Well, now I'm facing it, Scott.
I love you. More than it's healthy, and certainly more than humanly possible. You're my first love, the first person I've ever loved and the person I'll always love. This might be redundant already, Scott, but I love you.
I love you and I miss us. I want to be with you. After being with someone else, I realized that we needed time to become different people.
But now, I also realize after seeing you with Kira, you still need to learn to love someone else. You still need to become someone else before, maybe, we could give it another shot, and I'm okay with that because no matter where you are, you'll always have my heart. I understand what you said, the night I broke up with you, that you can wait.
I realize it now because even though I'll love you from afar, I can wait. I can wait for you.
Someday, I know, we'll meet again—when it's finally right—and it'll be just like we're at heaven by the rainbow's end.
I love you, Scott McCall. One day, we'll see each other again, and when the time is right, we'll be together again. No matter where you are, you will always have my heart. When you go away, you will continue to have my heart. I will love you from afar, Scott.
And right now? Be happy. I want you to be happy, Scott. So be happy.
I love you, Scott McCall. You're the first person I ever loved, the person I will always love. I love you. Be happy
For now, I only wish you happiness.
So, this isn't goodbye. It's au revoir—until we meet again."
Scott finished the letter and held it close to his heart, looking up at the sky with a faint smile on his lips as he remembered Allison before springing into action and leaving the look-out point and heading out to his apartment.
When he reached his door, Malia was the first thing he saw as she stood right in front of him with an accusing and worried glare. "Scott, where were you?" she asked, taking him in for a tight embrace. "I tried calling Deaton and asked what took you so long to get home but he told me you didn't even go to work and now here you are, trying to sneak in when it's well past 2 am!"
Scott just shrugged and hugged his girlfriend tighter. "I don't know, I've been soul searching, I guess?"
Malia pulled back and gave him a crossed look of disbelief. "Scott, I called Stiles and he was trying to assemble search party to begin at dawn."
Scott was taken aback and he had this funny expression on his face. "Stiles really did that?" he asked with a smile on his face as he fought off a chuckle.
Malia, on the other hand, did not look amused. "That boy, I swear, he's got a crush on you." Scott laughed and cupped her face as she scowled. "One day, I'm going to have to fight that boy for you."
Scott then remembered the letters and hugged Malia tight. "Hey, you want to leave, let's go someplace else. Just you and me." Malia pulled back and looked at him as if he grew three heads.
"Scott, our midterm break isn't very long." She pointed out.
He shrugged and smiled against her head, pressing a kiss on her temple. "Then let's make the most of it. We can go anywhere. Anywhere we want. Name it."
Malia had this dubious look on her face. "And what happened working a part-time job during the break to pay Derek his rent?"
Scott playfully scoffed and waved it off. "Eh, he'll live. But you know what? We don't get to live forever. Let's make the most of it. Come on, tell me," he beamed at her and grabbed his phone. "Tell me where you want to go. Anywhere you want."
Malia raised an eyebrow, still hesitant and somewhat unamused. "Anywhere I want?"
Scott paused for a moment and got rid of his phone. "For you," he breathed, leaning down to kiss her lips, "I would go even to that ridiculously smelly bar you like hanging out with Peter." He cupped her cheeks into his hands and closed the distance between them again. "I would even take you to the moon. I promised someone that I'd take the woman I love to the moon. It's about time I make good on my word."
"Hang on," Malia pulled back and took a step from him. "First off, who is this someone?"
Scott remembered the box of letter and made a mental note to drop off some of the items to Lydia at her mom's place. "An old friend. No one to be jealous of, I swear." There was a playful glint in Malia's eyes as she punched him weakly by his shoulder.
"I wasn't jealous, you idiot." Then, her tone went a bit flat and serious. "But for real? You would take me to the moon?" she mumbled, almost coming off as a whisper to him.
"On my life."
He swooped down and kissed her, craning his neck down to meet her halfway as she tip-toed. "Well, we don't need the moon just yet." She smirked against his lips and wove their fingers together. He inched closer to her, riding themselves of the distance between them. "Just take me to the stars right here in our apartment."
A hearty chuckle escaped Scott's throat, coming out as this deep and earthy laughter as he took Malia into his arms and carried her towards the bedroom, her innuendo not lost on him.
"Gladly."