"Stiles? Stiles?" Blinking, Stiles focused on Malia's face. She was leaning toward him, her hands gripping his shoulders. "Are you all right?"
"I... yeah. I was... I was with Scott..." Stiles put a hand to his forehead. "I was in his head."
"His... head?"
"Yeah. It's part of the psychic bond."
"Is he all right?"
"Yeah, he's... not in danger."
"Can you keep going?" The hard, stoic warrior was gone, just for a moment, and she actually looked concerned.
"Yeah. I'm fine."
Stiles went into the gym and suggested to Malia that maybe she should let him off this time. She laughed, and it was a pretty laugh, but Stiles felt like she was laughing more at him than rather with him.
"Why is that funny?"
"Oh," she said, her smile dropping. "You were serious."
"Look, I've technically been awake for two days. Why do we have to start this training now? Let me go to bed," Stiles whined. "It's just one hour."
Malia crossed her arms and looked down at Stiles. Her earlier concern was gone. "How do you feel right now? After the training you've done so far?"
"I hurt like hell."
"You'll feel worse tomorrow."
"So?"
"So, better to jump in now while you still feel... not as bad."
"What kind of logic is that?" he retorted, but he didn't argue anymore as Malia led him into the weight room. She showed him the weights and reps she wanted him to do, then sprawled in a corner with a book. When Stiles finished, Malia stood beside him and demonstrated a few cool-down stretches. Stiles watched her, and she was so pretty he scolded himself for never having noticed her before. She looked almost... exotic.
"Where are you from?" he asked. "You don't look... eh, American..."
She didn't answer right away. Stiles got the feeling she didn't talk about herself often.
"Nazilli."
"Oh. Cool. I once saw this documentary about the Nazis and... Wait... Where the hell is that again?"
A glint of something, maybe amusement, sparked in her dark eyes. "Turkey."
"Nice," Stiles said. "And... did you help come up with the plan to get us back? Because it was pretty good. Brute force and all that."
Malia arched an eyebrow curiously. "You're complimenting me on capturing you?"
"Well, it was a hell of a lot better than the last one they tried."
"Last one?"
"Yeah. In Portland. You know, the troll."
She frowned. "This was the first time we found you."
Stiles sat up from his stretches. "Um, I don't think I imagined that troll. He smelled pretty badly. Who else could have sent him? Maybe no one told you about it."
"Maybe," she said dismissively.
Stiles returned to the novices' dorm after that. The novices' dorm was built in a more open way than the rest of the school, allowing for more light, something Stiles was incredibly thankful for. He had his own room because there were so few novices. It was small and plain, with a twin bed and a desk with a computer. His few belongings sat in boxes around the room.
Someone had let a note on his pillow. It was short: Glad you're back. What you did was inexcusable. Dad. Shaking his head, Stiles smashed the note and threw it in the trash can.
He went to bed and passed out. Just as Malia had predicted, he felt ten times worse when he woke up the next morning. But he figured the only way to prevent getting his ass kick again was to go endure some more training. He survived the before-school practice with Malia and his subsequent classes without passing out.
Later, outside science class, Stiles told Scott he saw him with Kira Yukimura.
"You were in my head again?" Scott exclaimed. "For that long?"
"I didn't do it on purpose," Stiles argued. "It just happen-" Stiles got distracted when he realized the corridor he was in. Peter Hale, back in the day, used to wander campus a lot. It was pretty creepy. Stiles had run into him once, unexpectedly, in this corridor. It was after hours and everyone was supposed to be in their rooms, but Stiles went out to hang out with some people.
"You should be more careful," Peter Hale had said. "Your instructors would be disappointed." Being in class with Peter Hale while surrounded by other students was one thing. Standing outside alone with him was an entirely different matter. But instead of calling someone, Peter Hale only smiled. "Go back to your dorm, Stiles. There are bad things out here. You never know what's following you."
Stiles jumped back to the present, unsettled by the memory of that night. Scott, in the meantime, was telling him about Kira. As much as the two of them hanging out bothered Stiles, it gave him an idea.
The next day, he rushed to Finstock office. Finstock raised his crazy eyes from some paperwork. "Remember when I said I NEVER wanted to see-"
"I just need to ask you something," cut Stiles.
Finstock closed his eyes for a moment and took deep relaxing breaths. "Yes, Stilinski?"
"Does my house arrest mean I can't go to church?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You said that whenever I'm not in class or practice, I have to stay in the dorm. But what about church on Sundays? I don't think it's really fair to keep me away from my religious, um, needs."
Finstock looked really annoyed. "I wasn't aware you had any religious needs."
"I found Jesus while I was gone."
"Isn't your father an atheist?" he asked skeptically.
"My mom was a Christian. And anyway, I can choose my own path. You shouldn't keep me from it."
Finstock made a noise that sort of sounded like a snicker. "No, Stilinski, I should not. You may attend services on Sundays."
Stiles was glad. Church was every bit as lame as he remembered but he did get to sit next to Scott which made him feel like he was getting away with something. Mostly he just people-watched. Kira sat on the opposite side of the aisle, pretending to be just as holy as she'd said. Malia sat in the back, face lined with shadows. Stiles wondered if she even listened to the service. He tuned in and out.
"Following God's path is never easy," the priest was saying. "Specially to us, half-breeds. Some of us feel like they are unworthy of the light. That is not true. We all have our place. We are not abominations. Even the regular folk, the humans, our guardians, are enthralled just to be in our presence. If you follow the path of the light, you can have great spirit. You can stop floods. You can heal people. You can be good too."
Stiles took a nap just then. When he woke up, Hayden Romero was sitting beside Scott, whispering something.
"You're kidding," Scott whispered back.
Hayden shook her head. "Nope."
Scott turned. "Stiles, you know Jackson Whittemore's dad? His guardian wants to resign. And marry another guardian."
Now that was a scandal!
"Seriously? Are they, like, going to run off together?"
Hayden nodded. "They're getting a house. Going to get jobs with humans, I guess."
Stiles was impressed. Those guardians were fighting the system they'd been trained to believe in their entire lives. Guardians weren't allowed to be married, unless it was to the half-breed they protected, but that hardly ever happened. Their priority should be the half-breed they were assigned to protect. They were required to have at least one kid and send them be raised by a magical family so they could grow to be a guardian too. For Stiles, it had been the McCalls. He never saw his dad because the man was too busy being a guardian. And seeing his example, Stiles believed wholeheartedly that it was a guardian's job to protect his charge. Above anything else. Above everything else.
Mr Whittemore's guardian was abandoning his duties because of a whim. And now two magical families would be unprotected. And what for? A fling? Particularly one that involved running away? A complete waste. A disgrace.
When Scott and Stiles stepped outside, a pile of slush slid off the chapel's roof and onto them. Very wet and very cold. Stiles yelped as icy water landed on his hair and neck. Stiles glanced up as Liam Dunbar walked over and looped his arm around Hayden's neck. Stiles remembered what Kate Argent had said about Liam being an undine.
From what Stiles knew, undines were elemental beings associated with water. They were almost invariably depicted as being female, which was maybe why this guy kind of looked like a girl. And if Stiles recalled perfectly, undines acquired their souls by falling in love. But there was a catch: if the person they loved was unfaithful, the undine was fated to die. Stiles didn't know how much of this was true and how much was a myth, but it was likely the reason why Liam Dunbar was trying so hard to keep Hayden away from Scott.
"You know, Finstock will probably have something to say when he finds out you used magic against another student," Stiles pointed out.
"That wasn't an attack," Liam scoffed. "And it wasn't me. It was an act of God."
A few others laughed.
"Oh, yeah?" said Stiles taking a step toward him. "So is this," and he slammed Liam into the side of the church. But before he could do anything else (like smash the guy's face), Scott grabbed him from behind and pulled Stiles away. "Let's go," he muttered.
They walked off toward the dorms, leaving behind laughter and jokes. "You know," he said, "I'm thinking more and more that you stealing Hayden back is a good thing," he joked.
Scott looked serious. "That's not funny."
"It's a little funny."
"I'm not interested in revenge." Scott cut Stiles a sidelong look. "And you shouldn't be either."
Stiles smiled as innocently as he could, and when they parted ways, he felt relieved again that Scott couldn't read his thoughts.
"So when's the big fight going to happen?" Erica was waiting for Stiles outside the dorm.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Come on, I saw you guys sparring outside the chapel. Have you no respect for the house of God?"
Stiles snorted. "You've got about as much respect for it as I do, you heathen. You didn't even go."
"And you still didn't answer the question. Tell me, Stiles, are you just going to turn around and punch him one day?"
"If I do that, I'll have broken my probation with Finstock. Gotta walk the straight and narrow."
"Then find some way to get back at him without getting into trouble." A wicked smile tug at the corners of her lips.
"You know what I like about you, Erica? You and I are the same."
Erica looked smug. "Only I'm smarter. And I might know something about him." Stiles leaned forward. "His parents work for one of the royals. Cleaning stuff. Practically servants. His dad cuts grass, and his mom's a maid."
Stiles actually had a healthy respect for anyone who pulled a full day's work, regardless of the job. People everywhere had to do crappy stuff to make a living. But Liam Dunbar was trying to pass himself off as something he was not.
"No one knows?" he asked thoughtfully.
"And he doesn't want them to," said Erica. "They'd give him a hard time over it. You know how these people are."
Stiles was thoughtful. "Don't we all?"
