It had been two months. Two months since the Alphas had blown into town. Two months since Erica and Boyd had vanished off the face of the Earth. But, most importantly for Alison, it had been two months since her break up from Scott. And every day since, she had felt like crap. Not out of depression but because of how they had left things. She was truly sorry for that night. Undeniably guiltily she had left everything so raw.
A lot had happened in two months. People had come and gone. Jackson had transferred schools. New kids had popped up here and there but Alison hadn't thought much about the new juniors. Slowly, Beacon Hills had scraped together some normality. It was currently like the calm before the storm. A lake of still water just waiting for an earthquake to tear apart the tranquility.
She turned the corner, and there he was, dressed up in his full lacrosse gear speaking with Stiles – his wingman but also his newfound friend, Isaac. She caught her breath and tried to turn the corner, to slip away before he saw her but it was too late. She stood stock still and averted his eye – pretending to look busy reading announcements on a bulletin board but in fact she had no interest in the track team whatsoever. Her sport was archery and hunting. A skill she had demonstrated well enough earlier that year.
"Hey," a voice said awkwardly from behind her. She breathed through her nose and tried to calm her thoughts. She had wanted to apologize to him for that abrupt breakup ever since that night. When he had gave her all his love…and all she gave him was goodbye.
"Hey…" she trailed off. Was she really ready for this? "Could we talk?" she asked cautiously, "Somewhere private?"
Worry set deep in his features as he followed her. She stalked forward, examining classrooms and checking out possible darkened corridors. In the end, she past a deserted home-ec room and slipped in, propping the door open with her left riding boot for him to follow. "What's wrong?" he snapped out of instinct. Alison deduced he was probably used to panic at a time like this and felt a pang of selfishness.
Her hands shook with anticipation. She fisted her hair – her nervous tick – and shook herself, "How's your mom?" she blurted unexpectedly. Feeling stupid, she forced herself to continue, "I haven't seen her in a while…"
Scott looked a little confused. He gave her a shrug and a goofy, lop-sided half-smile she knew so well, "Good," he replied, "I mean – all things considered…"
Oh. Alison had forgotten that Melissa now knew about her son's….other side. She was probably having a hard time adjusting, "Well, tell her I asked about her."
"Yo, McCall!" someone yelled from the doorway. They both span, Scott almost rounding on the figure. Danny stopped abruptly, looking a little ashamed, "Hey… I'm sorry; I was just – um – are you coming to practice…?"
"It's okay," Scott replied, though it didn't sound like Scott found it 'okay', "I'll be there in a second."
Danny disappeared. Alison moved toward him, standing just inches from his face, from his lips that were so tender and smooth against her skin. She swallowed her pride and told him what she wanted to say, "Scott. I'm sorry. About that night – look, if I could go back and somehow change things…I would. I would because…" she trailed off biting her lip. Why would she try to change things? She didn't owe Derek or his pack anything. Derek had murdered her mother. Then, why did she feel so guilt ridden.
The answer was simple.
"I loved you, once," she said, though she know that was a slight lie. She hadn't loved him because she was still in love with him. But she knew she couldn't go back. It wasn't fair to toy with Scott's heart. Too many things had broken. Her mom's death had put a strong sense of untrustworthiness in the werewolves and all good relationships had trust. "I'm just. I wanted to say I'm sorry. About everything. About your mom, trying to kill the pack… I was grieving. I was angry. It wasn't fair to take my anger out on Isaac and the others. But I did it anyway. Because I'm Alison. Stupid, pathetic Alison."
Scott cupped her face, forcing her to look into her eyes. "Hey, you're not stupid or perfect," he chastised softly, running calloused hands gently over her jaw and chin. "In fact – you're the strongest person I know. If my mom died…I'd want revenge, too. It doesn't make you weak, Alison. It makes you human."
There was a stunned silence in which every tense emotion, every unspoken commitment hung between them as clearly as if a person was standing there. For a beautiful second, Alison thought he was going to kiss her. He leaned forward slightly, eyes drifting closed, but then reality smashed back down and his face hardened. "I'll see you around." He said airily and brushed past her, a movement full of – Alison could tell – longing and regret.
"Yeah," she whispered into the crushing weight of lonely silence, "See you around."