A/N: Hello. It's me. I was wondering if after all this time you thought I left... I was reading Sciles on Ao3 last night and I discovered a muse for this new story. Triggers ahead.
"Stop." Stiles put his hands up in front of him. "It ends now. You're not hurting them anymore." He narrowed his eyes at the dark-haired man before him. "I told Lydia what you've been doing to them, to me. She's gonna kill you."
"Stiles, no matter what you do, you can't keep me away from them. Remember whose sperm went into Lydia Martin in the first place? Because you couldn't get it up for her after all those years of pining?"
Stiles picked up Liam, almost three years old, and held him to his chest. He would never hit Stiles with the kids in hand. "It's over. I should have left you the day I saw the bruise on Isaac's arm."
"You still believe I did it. I told you repeatedly that he fell out of the tree out front."
"On your watch!" Stiles hated how long he put up with this. Four years of physical, emotional and psychological abuse, two and a half with Isaac and Liam. They had adopted Isaac in the first year, the curly-haired boy only five years old when Stiles' social work removed him from his abusive father's custody.
Piercing blue orbs went into puppy dog mode, a way Stiles was all too familiar with and on many occasions had succumbed to, but not now. The cigarette burn on Isaac's shoulder was the last straw. "Mieczyslaw..." Damn it. He was also one of the few people who could pronounce—and therefore use—Stiles' real name against him.
"You do not get to call me that any longer. That's for people who love me. And if you dare say that you love me after the way you've treated me, I swear to God..."
"Stiles!" The front door swung open and Lydia stood there, green eyes ablazing. "Come on. Jordan's in the car."
"Lydia." The smug smirk was back. "You can't take the kids from me. You're lucky Stiles is fucking soft and wants you in their lives. I'm their father."
The redhead, although over half a foot shorter, still brought fear to whoever dared cross her. Stiles was carrying Liam and had Isaac's hand, guiding them outside. He handed the infant to the eight-year-old, telling him to go to the Parrishes' car quietly. The blond obeyed, and Stiles turned to face him for what he hoped was the last time.
"It's okay, Lyds. I got this." Lydia looked back at him and, after a moment's hesitation, nodded, moving a little. "We're done. I'm doing what I should have done the day you first hit me. I'm breaking up with you." Stiles turned to leave.
"You haven't heard the last of me, Stiles. I promise you that."
Not bothering to look back, he spoke. "Goodbye, Matt."
"Stiles!" The black-haired man snapped back to reality. "You weren't thinking about—" Lydia sat down beside him. "I'm sorry."
Nine months have passed since Stiles left Matt, and no retaliation has yet to pass from his ex-fiancé. He, Isaac and Liam now resided with Lydia and Jordan in Lydia's old house. Stiles hadn't tried to find someone new, despite his friends' attempts. He couldn't do it; he just wanted to focus on the kids. The last injury Matt inflicted on Isaac had shaken the boy so badly that he became silent, and he calmly told Isaac that he could talk again when he was ready, even though the boy's teachers had expressed concern over his lack of socialization. Stiles was unaware of this but Lydia had filled the school staff in on what happened to Isaac at home, and they stopped pressing it.
"No problem." Stiles sighed and moved his mouse, playing Pong against the computer.
"I hate seeing you like this. As often as I tell you to shut up, I want the hyperactive, babbling Stiles back." Lydia handed him a coffee. "The hot Starbucks barista was asking about you again." Stiles groaned. "I'm not implying that you have to go out with him but throw the dog a bone and go to a movie or something. You know Jordan and I will watch Isaac and Liam. No offense but I'm getting tired of your moping." Stiles opened his mouth to reply. "Look, I am not saying you have to get over him. He did so much to you. Somewhere deep—probably buried—inside that cold, sick lump one could call a heart, Matt did love you."
Stiles recalled the nights that Matt wasn't hitting him, the nights of romantic dinners, cuddling in bed with the kids. Unfortunately, the abuse was the majority of nights. Matt would drink a lot or, when they went out, become jealous when he believed the waiter was flirting with Stiles. He was charming and calm in public but the moment they got into the car, Matt would slap Stiles, calling him a tease. Stiles would try to deflect a hit or two and get it worse when they got home. The babysitters they hired—Boyd and Erica, Allison, all high school classmates of Stiles and Matt—never actually witnessed Matt's rage but somehow knew about it and tried to talk Stiles into leaving him. And he seriously considered it, but Matt always reeled him back in with empty promises that he'd never lay a hand on Stiles again.
"I can't. Let me just—" Stiles clicked back into his case file. "Skye McCall. Wait," he looked up at Lydia, "McCall? As in Scott McCall? From high school?" Lydia nodded and Stiles narrowed his eyes. "Is there some ulterior motive you have for giving me this in particular?"
"I will have you know, Stilinski, that, one, I would never try to hook you up with a client, and secondly, I did not assign you to this case. Laura did. Besides, he's divorced from a woman. They met at UC Davis; her name is Heather Curtis, she was a drama student who tutored Scott in a couple courses, wedding bells soon followed, a couple nights in the hospital during birth, and then she went into psycho controlling bitch mode... and the rest is history. Get to work." Lydia flipped her hair in a very high school fashion and returned to her office, leaving Stiles to stare at the file photo of Scott McCall.
Scott pulled up in front of Beacon Hills Elementary School and got out of the car, following another call from the principal about Skye getting into a fight. He knew his daughter would never start a fight but she sure as hell would finish one, and, according to the call, she was defending a boy who had trouble standing up for himself. Scott couldn't be prouder.
"Dad, I can explain," was Skye's first response when she saw her father enter the administration office. Scott put a hand on her head.
"You don't have to. I know." He nodded gently and a look of relief passed over her face. She'd gotten Scott's empathy and her mother's fierce stubbornness.
Principal Davis stepped out of his office with a dark-haired boy who sported a pretty nasty looking black eye. "Go wait for your mother over there," he said quietly, before giving Scott an acknowledging nod. "Mr. McCall, we're just waiting on the boy's father."
At that moment, a man stumbled into the office, looking disheveled. "I'm so sorry! It was super last minute, I'm pretty sure I broke a couple traffic laws."
"Mr. Stilinski, in here." Scott tilted his head. Where had heard that name before? The local sheriff, of course, but this wasn't him. Then it clicked. Stiles Stilinski, the weird, ADHD kid from high school. They never hung out or anything but they were civil.
Once the fathers were seated beside their kids, Stiles' son had dirt on his face. Apparently, Skye had come to Isaac's rescue when she saw Devon Donati pushing his face into the ground. Other nearby students testified that she told him to knock it off, Devon told her to go play with dolls like any other little girl, and that's when she punched him.
"Although it never should have come to physical retaliation," Principal Davis was saying, "where they were on the playground had no nearby yard supervisors, which we will be placing at least two from here on out. Skye's actions are commendable. Don't tell Mr. Donati I said that." The principal cracked a small smile. "And she will serve a day of lunchtime detention." Skye opened her mouth to complain. "Only so we can say you were punished. That's it. Nothing more." She slumped her shoulders in defeat.
"Thank you." Stiles turned to the girl with a grin. "For helping Isaac." He held out his hand.
Skye examined him for a moment before firmly returning the gesture. "Anytime." She grabbed her backpack and stood up. "I'll be in the car."
Scott chuckled a little and left the office with Stiles, who had Isaac by the shoulders. "That's an amazing little girl you've got there," Stiles said, squeezing Isaac a little. "You okay, buddy?" Isaac looked up at his father and nodded. Stiles wet his thumb and started wiping some of the dirt off but Isaac squirmed away and ran out the same way Skye had left.
"Skye told me he never says a thing," Scott said quietly. "She doesn't know why and I don't want to pry or anything..."
Stiles watched the two children together, Skye talking near nonstop—mirroring Stiles as a kid—and Isaac moving animatedly with whatever she was saying. "It's a long story, and it's not a happy one." Nine months of silence and Matt Daehler still had a hold on him. "Thanks again, Scott. I'll see you around." Stiles went to collect Isaac, who resisted leaving at first but waved to Skye, who waved back. Scott just watched after them.
Lydia was home when Stiles and Isaac returned. Jordan was making dinner and she was playing with Liam in the living room. The brownish-blond four-year-old looked up and broke into a toothy grin at the sight of his father and older brother.
"'Zac!" Liam hugged Isaac's legs. Stiles couldn't help but smile. Liam couldn't say Isaac yet so he called him Zac. "Dirty?" The little boy asked, trying to reach Isaac's face to clean him off. Isaac only nodded and bent down to pick Liam up.
Liam was a little late to start talking, which Stiles immediately blamed on Matt's genetics, especially when the topic first came up, Lydia had that look on her face that dared him to fault her. He wouldn't have had it any other way.
"Hey, buddy." Jordan came over with a wet towel to clean Isaac's face. "Lyds told me what happened. The school called here first. You alright?" Isaac nodded and allowed Jordan to clean him off. "She must be quite a girl to fight off a boy twice her size, huh?"
"Especially if the boy is the offspring of Donovan Donati," Lydia muttered, putting up the blocks Liam was occupied with. "Who would do that with him, I'll never— No, wait, I don't want to know."
Jordan stood up and ruffled Isaac's hair. "You and Liam go wash up for dinner, okay?" The boys ran off and he put an arm on Stiles' shoulder. "I love them like they were mine."
"They are sort of yours too. I mean, married to the mother and all." Stiles beamed. He couldn't have gotten through leaving Matt without Lydia and Jordan. "They need all the support they can get. I want to hear Isaac's voice again."
Lydia looped herself on Stiles' other side. "You will. It just takes time. I will personally see to it that he never touches our children again."
"I know I promised to never ask you for help again, but..." Matt sighed. "I need your help." He looked up at the door slot.
The eyes behind the slot didn't blink but the latch clicked and the door opened. "You've got a lot of balls coming back here, Daehler. You said you were too good for my assistance."
"I know! But I want my sons back. I'm their father, not that cowardly social worker I regret to call my ex." Matt didn't move; he could see one of the bodyguards in the back with a gun. "Please."
It took a moment but he was granted entry. "Thank you so much, Mr.—"
"Just shut up and get inside."