A/N: Story is set roughly three months after "Co-Captain," but in an AU where Jackson did not become a werewolf and Allison is somehow still in the dark. Other end-of-season events may or may not have occurred. In this AU, Kate did not succeed in capturing Derek.

Comments and criticism appreciated.

Unexpecting

by LadySilver

The bleeding started the morning of the full moon, though Allison wouldn't note the connection. She discovered the smear of blood between her thighs when she woke up. A tentative touch confirmed that the blood was mostly dried, though there was somewhat more of it than she had first noticed. She frowned, furrowed her brow, tested the smear again with a stronger touch. Was this something to worry about? She rubbed hands over her lower abdomen, pushing on the soft pudge that didn't used to be there. Her belly felt squishy, like a thick layer of jelly sat beneath her skin, but no pain resonated. That had to be good, right? She allowed herself a small sigh of relief. The pudge was growing noticeably thicker, though she was still able to dress to conceal it. Soon it would start to take on shape and tricks wouldn't work. For her body type, she knew, that would be sooner rather than later.

Rolling out of bed, she padded down the hall to the bathroom. Though she had gotten a full night's sleep, she felt sluggish, clumsy. She dimly recalled waking in the night, convinced that all the oxygen had been stolen from the room. Opening her bedroom window had helped, but she'd had to sleep all night on her side, face positioned to catch any breeze that snuck in, and now her limbs protested that lack of movement. A shower restored some flexibility, though the hot water made her aware of a dull ache in her lower back. At least the heat and humidity of the shower didn't nauseate her, as it had done for the last couple weeks. She shut off the tap, sighed, leaned against the steam coated white tiles in the shower stall. Water dripped off the ends of her long hair, splashing in tepid drops on her feet. While the symptoms had all been mild—not at all like the dramatic vomiting, exhaustion, or weight gain so often presented in novels—they kept piling up, one right on top of the other. She hadn't taken a pregnancy test—there was no power on earth that would compel her to bring one of those into the house on the fear that her father would find it—she'd never really needed one. But she was starting to get a glimpse of what people meant when they said that one shouldn't go through this alone. Today, she decided, was the day to stop trying.

The one day she needed to talk to him, Scott was elusive. She caught a couple glimpses of him throughout the morning passing periods, but he always seemed to be moving in a different direction than she needed to go. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was avoiding her, especially when he didn't turn up for English. While switching her books for her next class, she automatically checked his locker to see if he was there. He wasn't. Seconds later, a prickling on her neck made her check again. Now she saw Scott lounging with one shoulder against his locker as if he'd been there the whole time. He was staring at her, scoping her in a way that made the prickle crawl down her spine. His eyes were dark, his face drawn into a mask of intensity like she'd never seen on him before. His posture reminded her of a lion on the stalk.

She took a step toward him, his name on her lips, when suddenly an arm dropped across the back of her shoulders and she was being spun away. "Hey," Jackson said. "So, about that French quiz…"

He propelled her down the hall to words she didn't hear. A quick glance over her shoulder showed Stiles similarly leading Scott in the other direction. She frowned. "Jackson," she interrupted, "What's going on?"

"Oh, you know. Full moon," he replied. There was something in his tone, not quite a sneer, a hint of amusement, that made her think that what he had said was supposed to be meaningful. Beads of sweat glistened on his upper lip and his cheeks were flushed.

She pulled away, shifted her books to her other arm. "I need to talk to Scott," she said. "I haven't seen him all day." Because of what she had to say, and because of how dragging she had felt, she had taken extra care getting dressed, going so far as to pin her hair up so that the loose curls framed her face. Scott had complimented the style once, and she needed the extra boost of confidence—which now was starting to feel like an effort that had been wasted.

"And I could really use your help going over some verbs," Jackson replied, speaking faster. "That quiz killed me."

Another glance down the hall showed that Scott and Stiles were long gone, swallowed in the crowd of students all racing to their next class. She sighed, agreed. Then the world twisted on its side. She clutched at Jackson's arm, suddenly glad that it was already there, as her knees buckled. Her vision swam, blackness swept in from the edges.

When it cleared, she found herself sitting on the floor in front of the lockers, Jackson crouched in front of her. He looked concerned, genuinely so, like she hadn't seen since that night they were trapped in the school. She tried to smile, to show him that she was fine, but found that the effort sent a dart of pain through her temple. "Ow," she groaned. The hallway had mostly emptied, though she couldn't remember the bell ringing. How long had she been sitting here? She felt so embarrassed.

Jackson rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, licked his lips. "I think we need to get you to the nurse," he said. He held out his hands, an invitation to help her stand when she was ready.

Though she wasn't sure she had the strength in her arms to reach for those hands, she had to agree.