FOUR-I'll Be Home For Christmas

For anyone still reading, sorry for the delay in reposting! This chapter is the shortest one in the series, so I have no excuse other than holiday travel.

Also, major shout-out to indigoibex, who sent me a lovely message about being inspired by part two of this story (the one where Scott loses his memory) to make a vid loosely based off of that. SO cool, and definitely the best kind of compliment! Thanks my friend! The video is amaze, so if you haven't, check it out! It's at Indigo Ibex on YouTube.

Fictional

"Malia...we have a problem."

She couldn't help it, replaying Stiles' words over and over again in her head. She sighed as she rested her head heavily against the cool window pane of the airplane, staring blankly out at the runway below as they taxied away.

Scott was missing.

He'd been missing for a week now, and they had no idea where he was or what had happened to him, after a mission gone wrong in Europe to save some innocent werewolf refugees and gain more allies. Monroe's army had been closing in on them, stronger than they'd ever been before, and Scott had known he'd had to go.

She could vividly remember their conversation before he'd left for France with Argent, only two weeks before Christmas, when she'd told him not to go.

"Malia, I have to," he had reassured her softly, taking her into his arms. "You know I have to do this."

"I get that," she had sighed, shaking her head, "but why does it have to be you? Let Argent handle it, or Isaac, or even Jackson or Ethan. They're all already over there anyways, so just let them take care of it."

He cupped her cheek, looking at her seriously as they spoke. "I know, but this whole thing is my responsibility. They need me."

"But we need you here," she frowned at him. Usually Lydia was the one with the premonitions, but she had just had a bad feeling about the whole thing. "Scott, I'm serious...don't go."

He sighed heavily, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's not that simple. This might be our chance to end this whole thing, to finally get our lives back. I have to go, Malia."

She nodded, biting her lower lip, knowing it was true. Scott had taken the last semester off of school from U.C. Davis, as the war with Monroe and her mindless soldiers had reached an all time high, and Scott was too busy playing general of the supernatural side to even think of having a normal life anymore. Malia hated that this is what their lives had come to, and she knew that if Scott even thought there was a chance of ending this thing once and for all, he was going to take it.

"Okay, okay, just," she cupped his face between her hands now, holding his gaze steadily, "promise me you'll be careful."

"Always am," he murmured as his lips met hers softly. He pulled back, trying to give her a reassuring look. "I'll be back soon. Promise."

That had been ten days ago. Six days ago, Stiles had called and broken the news to her after he'd heard it from Argent.

The rescue mission had gone terribly, horribly wrong, the hunters surrounding them at every turn, and Argent and the others had lost track of Scott in all of the chaos as they saved the supernatural refugees, because Scott had been determined that not one of them be left behind.

The only reassurance they'd had that he was still alive was that Lydia hadn't felt him die, claimed that she would know without out a doubt if he was gone, and Malia clung to that last hope desperately.

She felt a gentle nudge at her side then, and turned in her small airplane seat to see Lydia looking over at her carefully.

"You okay?" she asked softly, eyes shining with concern.

Malia nodded, lips pressed tightly together. "Yeah. I just want to get there."

"Me too," Stiles sighed heavily from his aisle seat on the other side of Lydia. "All this waiting is driving me crazy."

After six days of Argent, Isaac, and their allies having no luck locating Scott, the three of them had decided to take matters into their own hands, flying to France to join the others in the search for their missing Alpha.

Malia was silently grateful for their company, knowing they were as worried for Scott as she was, and that Stiles had pulled in some FBI favors between himself and Scott's dad to help in the search.

The only way they'd been able to keep Melissa and Liam and the rest from joining them is that they still needed part of the pack back home, in case anything else happened, or if Scott managed to contact them somehow.

They'd barely been able to convince Melissa of that, desperate to find her son, but in the end she'd realized that the best thing she could do was make sure everything was okay in Beacon Hills until Scott was found.

"He's still alive," Lydia squeezed her arm reassuringly, giving her a knowing look, because she did know that. "There's still hope."

"And we're going to find him," Stiles added determinedly, although she wasn't sure if that was more for her benefit or for his own, "we'll find him, and trust me I am going to ream him out for being such a heroic idiot, just like I do every time he does something heroic and idiotic...but we'll find him, and he's going to be fine."

Malia faked a small smile, wanting so badly to believe his words, but she couldn't help fearing that any minute Lydia was going to scream, and her entire world would come to an end.

As the plane finally took off into the air, Malia closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

Scott...where are you?

Malia had always wanted to go to Paris, ever since that failed trip after high school, but not like this.

Never like this.

They'd been so busy tearing apart the city and the surrounding suburbs looking for Scott, that they'd hadn't even gotten to enjoy Christmas in the city of light.

It was just a painful reminder of yet another Christmas that she and Scott had missed together, and she was beginning to wonder if there was some sort of a sick pattern.

In the days since they'd arrived in France, they'd been on the move nonstop, desperate to find any clues as to Scott's whereabouts.

Thankfully, it didn't seem like Monroe's men had him either, but that only led them to another dead end.

So where was he?

Lydia was still adamant that he was alive, and that was the one saving grace they had to go on, the only thing still giving them all hope.

Malia sighed, rubbing her arms against the cold winter air as she stood out on the balcony of their hotel room, staring mournfully out at the Eiffel Tower in the distance, shining under the light of the full moon. In her current state of distress, it was taking all of her concentration not to shift, to stay human, and she had been grateful when the others hadn't followed her out onto the balcony, knowing she wanted to be alone.

It was late on New Year's Eve, but none of them felt like celebrating now. Not until they found Scott.

She heard the balcony door slowly open and close behind her, and she sighed, not bothering to turn around and address whoever it was. "I told you guys, I'm fine. I just need some time alone."

She was completely unprepared for the achingly familiar voice behind her.

"Malia."

She wheeled around, already knowing who it was before she saw him, the voice and the familiar scent she knew better than anyone's already assaulting her senses before she even saw him.

Scott stood in the doorway, leaning heavily against it for balance. He was battered and beaten, clothes tattered and covered in blood that was only partially his. He looked completely exhausted, and he was in obvious pain from the way he moved, but even through all of that, his easy, familiar smile was aimed directly at her.

Malia had never seen anything more beautiful in her entire life.

She choked on her words, unable to get them out, and just turned and flew directly into his arms instead. He caught her with a pained grunt, wrapping his arms tightly around her as she buried her face into his chest, hot tears stinging her cheeks.

"It's okay, Malia," he whispered hoarsely into her hair, holding her close, "I'm okay."

"Scott," she finally rasped out, pulling back to look at him through her tears of shock and relief, "you're okay? Where have you been? What the hell happened?"

"It's a long story," he sighed heavily, still holding her close to him. "After the mission went wrong, I created a diversion, but then I was trapped and I couldn't find a way out. Her men were everywhere, so I had to make Monroe think that I was dead, because that's the only way I could get away, and the only way we'll be able to catch her by surprise when we make our next move."

He paused, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "That's what took me so long to get back, and why I couldn't contact any of you. I'm sorry."

Malia nodded slowly, understanding why he hadn't been able to get to them sooner, to let them know that he was okay, but that didn't make it any easier.

"We've been going crazy, trying to find you, trying to find you before Monroe's men did, trying to figure out what happened. We looked everywhere," she replied, wiping her wet eyes carelessly with the back of her hand, "and the only reason we knew that you were, that you weren't..."

"Lydia?" he interjected gently as she struggled with the words. At her nod, he sighed again, squeezing her close. "That's what I was hoping, so at least you would know that I was still alive. I'm sorry Malia, I didn't mean to worry all of you, but there was just no way for me to..."

Malia cut him off quickly with a long, hard kiss on the lips, and he melted into her touch. She finally pulled back, her voice soft. "I know, and I don't care why. I get it. I'm just glad you're okay."

He smiled, and even through all the blood and grime, she'd know that smile everywhere. "I promised you that I would come back."

She cocked an eyebrow at him doubtfully. "I told you not to go in the first place."

"Yeah, right," he sighed, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone. "Remind me next time to always listen to you."

She couldn't help but laugh at that with a shake of her head. "Trust me, I will."

Scott chuckled, burying his face in her hair again and breathing in deeply. "I've missed this."

"Me too," she mumbled against his chest, still unwilling to let him go.

He straightened up suddenly, looking down at her with a frown. "Wait...I missed Christmas, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Malia looked back at him with a shrug, "a week ago now. It's New Year's Eve."

"Malia, I'm sorry," he shook his head ruefully, "I was really trying to get back to you in time."

"Just make it up to me now," she murmured, kissing him hard once again, beyond grateful that he was safe, and alive, and back in her arms once again.

He sighed against her lips. "Deal."

"Well come on then," she smiled at him, linking her hand with his and tugging him towards the balcony door, "why don't we get you into the shower and get you cleaned up?"

Scott broke into a wider smile at that. "That sounds like a good plan."

They may have missed another Christmas, but New Year's Eve in Paris was the best one Malia had ever had.

Happy New Year! Two more to go.