CHAPTER ONE: HER ANCHOR

"She knows that this is when she needs to let go of his hand; this is when she needs to be strong all on her own. But she doesn't feel strong. In fact, she feels herself start to tremble."

She waits in the hallway, wanting to see him, needing to see him. Watching him fall to the ground in front of her, badly burned... It had opened her eyes to how much she cared about him. She isn't sure how much, at least not yet, but it feels more real now. Solid. Her heart clutches at the thought of his body behind the hospital doors. He has to be okay. He has to be.

She looks up from her lap as a nurse walks briskly past. "Excuse me," she calls. "Ma'am?"

The nurse pauses and turns at the sound of her voice.

"Isaac. Isaac Lahey? Can I go in to see him now?" She would have already busted into his room, but the door is locked, and no one has been willing to give her the key. Not yet.

The nurse backtracks, grabbing Isaac's chart from outside the door in one swift motion. "You family?" she asks as she flips the first page upwards.

Allison doesn't hesitate. "Yes."

The nurse lifts her gaze from the papers, eyeing her suspiciously. "It says here that he doesn't have any family."

She grits her teeth in frustration. This is the third time she has been told this. "You don't understand," she tries once more, trying to be polite. "He has me."

"Sorry," the nurse shook her head, her short blonde hair flipping through the air. "You're going to have to wait. Only immediate family allowed right now." She turns her back, quickly shoving the chart back into place and scurrying away before Allison can complain. She lets out a shuddering breath in frustration, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. If only they knew…

…..

The next thing she knows a hand rests softly on her shoulder, drawing her out of a half-dazed sleep. She glances up in confusion before seeing Scott.

"You been waiting here all night?" he asks her gently.

She nods her head groggily, taking comfort in the feeling of his warm hand on her shoulder.

"They won't let me see him," she finally manages. "Only immediate family. I told them he doesn't have any."

The words spill out of her mouth before she realizes they aren't true. She told the nurse that Isaac had her… but somehow those words sound wrong next to Scott. What if Scott thought she meant…

What does it matter? She quickly chides herself. Besides that is what you mean, isn't it? That Isaac HAS you… that you're falling for him?

At that moment Melissa, dressed in her hospital scrubs, walks up. "Well he's got us," she says, interrupting Allison's thoughts. "And I happen to have a keycard." The words send an instant relief flooding through her. She will see him. It'll be okay. That's what she has to tell herself. That it will be okay.

Melissa quickly swipes her keycard in the hospital door, waving Allison and Scott forward. Allison follows behind Scott as he starts forward. "Be quick," Melissa whispers gently, pulling the hospital door closed behind them.

Allison's eyes dart forward, to the figure lying in the bed. Isaac's figure. Something inside her shudders, and suddenly, desperately, she needs him. Needs him to make sense of it all. But it's not Isaac she needs; Isaac can't help her now. It's Scott she needs. Her fingers find his and twist through them, clutching on for dear life as she stares at Isaac's beaten body. She feels him jerk in confusion for a moment, but then he relaxes next to her, and she revels in the fact that his grip is warm and strong and right.

They walk closer and she peers down on Isaac. "I thought he'd be healing now," she comments in confusion. She hears her own worry leak into her words.

"So did I," Scott murmurs, almost as if to himself. He reaches down, wrapping his fingers around Isaac's wrist carefully.

She leans closer, noticing Isaac's pinched expression, even in sleep. She's almost afraid to ask… but the words slip out of her mouth anyway.

"Is he in pain?"

Scott turns towards her, his eyes sad as he nods his head. She has to bite back her feelings at this, struggling to breathe. She squeezes Scott's other hand, the one still in her grasp; drawing what comfort she can from the contact.

Scott leans further over Isaac then, adjusting his grip. She knows what he's about to do, but it still surprises her as she watches Scott's veins begin to flash black in his arm. His face begins to tighten with pain, his head tilting back and his breathing growing heavier. The sight makes something flutter painfully in her chest. Isaac stirs in his sleep, head moving to the side of the pillow before sinking back down again. She struggles to keep herself from his stopping Scott; she wants him to help Isaac but the sight of him taking on Isaac's pain makes it difficult to breathe. She bites her lip, semi-relieved as he finally pulls away, struggling to catch his breath.

He turns to her after his breathing settles into a steadier expression, catching her worried expression. "It won't heal him," he reassures her, "but it'll help with the pain." She chooses not to tell him that her part of her worry stemmed out of concern for him. Better that he believes it was all for Isaac, that everything was for Isaac.

She feels a little anger surge inside her then. She shouldn't be standing here, watching two people that she cared for struggling, watching two people she cared for be in pain.

"Did Stiles really do this?" she asks finally, her voice holding a little edge.

Scott looks at her. "Whatever is controlling him did. Whatever is inside of him."

"Well then how do we get whatever is inside of him the hell out of him?"

His eyes grow steely. "I'm working on it."

She turns her gaze back towards Isaac. "Because this can't go on," she whispers sadly. "We can't keep watching each other get hurt."

She bits her lip again, feeling a whirlwind of emotions fighting to surface.

"Come on," Scott says gently. "I think we need to go." She nods, still fighting for control as he leads her slowly out of the room, almost as if she is fragile. He opens the door and draws her through, closing it silently behind him. She knows that this is when she needs to let go of his hand; this is when she needs to be strong all on her own. But she doesn't feel strong. In fact, she feels herself start to tremble.

"Allison?" he asks her carefully, reaching to brush a piece of hair out of her face so he can see her eyes. She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Allison," he breathes again, but this time her name isn't a question, it's a word of comfort. "Shh…" he steps forward, pulling her against his strong, lean frame. "Shh… It's going to be okay." His arms slip around her, holding her up as she buries her face into the material of his shirt. It smells like him and she forces herself to concentrate on the familiar scent, breathing in and out. In and out.

They stay there, like that, for a long time, probably longer than she should have. But she needed someone, needed him, and at that moment, he was there.

Eventually he pulls away, yet he still places his hands on each of her shoulders. He looks at her… really looks at her.

"Do you love him?" His voice is quiet but straightforward. If he feels sad at the thought, he isn't showing it.

"I don't know," she manages, her voice turning over with confusion. She can't help but notice that her words shocked him a little bit; that he flinched before he again steadied himself before her. She can sense his second question, unspoken in the air.

Well then do you know if you love me?

"I don't know," she says again, with even more anguish. "It's just.. right now…"

"Okay," he cuts her off. "It's okay, Allison."

She realizes that this is probably the third time, or the fourth even, that he has been her anchor in the last thirty minutes. The thought is frightening almost; she is always the strong one. She has to be. But something about him… it made it okay to be unsure.

She doesn't want to be unsure.

"You need to go, Scott," she says lightly. "We need to fix this."

He holds her gaze, and for a moment she is unable to look away as his brown eyes search hers, as his hands slide off her shoulders and run down the cool skin of her arms.

"It's all going to work out," he tells her, his warm fingertips finally leaving her skin.

"How do you know?"

His jaw clenches. "Fate." And then he turns and walks away, leaving her pondering the meaning of his words. She had thought he was talking about Stiles, about Isaac, but fate….

He had been talking about her. About them. About them together.

She sends a glance towards Isaac's door, and all she can feel is uncertainty.

So there's chapter one. Hope you guys like it. There will be a few more after this, so keep tuned! (Although it might be a little bit… busy college student right here) And pretty please review because I truly appreciate everyone's feedback!