Hello everyone! Thank you to the wonderful handful of you who reviewed last chapter, you're all so amazing I swear :]

lots of love to: Allbyz (you're so sweet), It belongs in a museum ( yooooooo) Dubonet (Willkita 4 lyfe) Recklessyouthinme ( I can't wait for your story you have no clue) Ms. Fortunate (thank you for being with me since the last time I wrote this) Kissageckos (thank you so much for listening to me talk about my story all day long, thank you for reading the last version, thank you for still caring ;_;)

I honestly can't do this without you guys, once again, thank you to the wonderful reviewers.

xxx


The car ride to the video store was the very definition of uncomfortable. Open an Oxford dictionary and one would see an image of Lydia and Jackson's constipated expressions next to the word. The two were mute, drowning pitifully in their restrained silence, but to Nikita their silence was the most gorgeous tune she had ever heard. She wondered if they felt any sort of guilt, or were they truly the monsters Jonesy had told her about? Nikita's 'boyfriend' slept with her 'friend' and neither seemed too bothered by it. In some twisted way Nikita felt like it was her own fault...most likely it was. It's not like she was the world's greatest girlfriend, she rarely showed affection, in fact the most action Jackson got from her was a few gropes here and there over the shirt. In some ways this was her own doing, dating someone who could never pique her interest, so she never showed any real interest back. So what if she didn't put out for a jerk like Jackson Whittemore? She was angry the more she thought of it, very angry.

But most of all...she was feeling petty.

Nikita sprang from her seat, hand shooting for the radio dial as she poked her head between Jackson and Lydia. "Oh my gosh!" Her voice oversaturated with false sweetness to cover the bitterness that festered beneath. She looked to one then the other with a plastic smile. "I just loooooove this song."

The volume went up as Alanis Morissette's 'You Oughta Know' blasted through Jackson's Japanese imported sub woofers, he was probably regretting the money he spent on those fancy speakers now.

"Such angsty lyrics!" Nikita tried to shout over the bass, but it was near impossible. The music was vibrating through their bones, rattling in their skulls. Nikita swore if the speakers could go any louder they would blow through the windows.

With her head still poking between Jackson and Lydia " I wonder who pissed her off!?"

Her boyfriend -soon to be ex- tightened his grip on the steering wheel, skin pulling tight over his knuckles as the loud music grated in his ears, yet neither made a move to lower the volume. Lydia managed to crack a frigid smile, too afraid to make eye contact, too afraid to cover her ears. Nikita plopped down into her seat, hand firmly placed on both Jackson and Lydia's shoulders, singing the song as obnoxiously as she could.

The porsche jerked to a sudden stop, Jackson just inches short from hitting the parking curb. He was in a hurry to remove himself from the situation judging by how fast he unchecked his seatbelt and shot out of his seat; one would think he was sitting on a bed of hot coals. Nikita hopped out of the car while Lydia took her time. The strawberry blonde had barely opened the door when Nikita bumped it shut with her hip.

"Oh no no, no need." Nikita started.

Although the window was rolled up, she knew Lydia could hear her.

"Nah, Lyds, you stay here and guard the car. I trust you to watch over things like I trust you with my boyfriend." Nikita making no effort to thaw the ice in her voice. A lopsided grin pulled at her pink stained lips at the sight of the color draining from Lydia's face.

Nikita ran into the video store to join Jackson. As she suspected, the video store, antiquated in its own, empty, seeing how Netflix was a more viable option. Nikita pulled out her phone, finding Jackson's number and deleting it at once, along with their past text conversations.

"Stupid girl." Nikita berated herself under her breath.

Stupid for letting her walls down and allowing Jackson in.

Stupid for wasting time with temporary people.

All her attention firmly set on her phone as she called out Jackson's name.

There was no response, Nikita assuming he was sick of her immature games, or looking for a hole to crawl into, desperate to get away from her. The fluorescents above her flickered violently, finally garnering her attention. Nikita left her phone, and she looked up.

"Hello?" She called out, once again no one was there to answer her.

A wave of nausea hit her, the tips of her fingers went numb at the sight before her . A lifeless body was strewn across the floor in an unnatural position. A ragged gash marked from his neck down to his belly, the store clerk laying in a puddle of his own blood. His innards threatening to spill out, for what once held him together had been ripped open. She was -without mind- walking backwards, feeling unreal and putting distance between her and the body. Mossy green eyes laid transfixed on the gore, so much so she accidently bumped into the ladder behind her.

The lights cut out.

Nikita opened her mouth to let out a blood curdling scream, before she could Jackson covered her mouth with his hand. Even though he was behind her, she could tell it was sharp and spicy scent of his Tom Ford cologne tickled at her nose, the warmth of his breath crawling across back of her neck; and he whispered-

"There is something in here with us, be silent."

Silence is exactly what she served Jackson, although Nikita swore she could hear her knees knocking together from the relentless tremors that rolled through her body. Only when the frightened girl nodded her head in understanding Jackson removed his hand. The two of them slowly backed away, careful not to make any sudden movements or startling sounds. Jackson had a vice grip on her sleeve, like she was a child about to wander off into the darkness. Just then the two of them heard the unmistakable sound of a growl. Nikita couldn't help but to let out a sharp scream.

Quickly she covered her mouth with both hands, it was already too late.

She had messed up.

A head dive into a huge mistake.

Another low growl came from the employee room where the corpse remained. In an instant, much too quick Jackson let go of her arm and broke into a run, leaving Nikita stunned for a moment and unable to move. In his mind he assumed he didn't have to outrun whatever murderous creature was with them, he just had to outrun Nikita. Jackson was blindsided, forgetting his girlfriend was the fastest person on the track and field team, easily surpassing the captain of the lacrosse team. His head turned to look at Nikita outrun him with little effort on her part, so distracted he ran into the sale bin, knocking over both himself and the DVD trolley.

Nikita had reached the door, seconds away from breaking free when she turned to look over her shoulder, Jackson on the floor surrounded by scattered dvds. After a regretful split second of hesitation - wondering if she wanted to save his self-serving ass- she ran back for Jackson, grabbing the hood of his jacket and yanking him off the floor. She noticed it then, the angry red mark etched into the back of his neck, but the dire situation gave no time for questions. She had shoved Jackson behind a video shelf, splitting them apart and hiding behind the shelf across from him.

The only option was to cower in the farthest corner. The sound of her heart was pounding rapidly in her ear, like a war drum banging right against her skull. Her eyes landed on Jackson who was crouched in the aisle across from her. For the first time since she met him she found raw fear within him. He looked much like a small child. His sky blue eyes desperate to find some sort of comfort in hers, Nikita had nothing to offer, she was just as scared as him. In that moment she forgot the anger she felt for Jackson Whittemore, wanting him to tell her everything would be alright. She needed his reassurance, she needed to know things were going to be okay.

The growling grew louder as the creature walked down the aisles, closer to them. It had to be the mountain lion that was causing the animal attacks, Nikita and Jackson would be added to the ever-growing list of casualties.

The pit of her stomach twisted and turned, she already wanted to throw up. Never had she been in a situation where her life was on the line. Her first instinct was to lean against the shelf and close her eyes, hoping the mountain lion would just leave. Her eyes flew open to the sound of Jackson whispering her name, his head nodding towards the rectangular box next to her that read 'light rods'.

She bit her lip while contemplating an escape plan; her mind too frantic and her thoughts untamed and clouded by fear. Another loud growl ripped through the air as the shelves on the other side began tumbling down like a domino effect on Jackson. She shouted his name but it was too late as a shelf pinned him down. Jackson screamed her name, his voice strained and lone girl from Los Angeles was not made of bravery, she could never stand on her own two feet and face problems without wanting to crumble. Nikita pulled out a bulb and grabbed the light tube, scooting closer to the edge of the shelf, her ever-shaking hands wrapped around the light tube like a nun clutching to a rosary.

In her hands...it became a weapon.

The shadow of the beast lurched closer and closer, just mere inches from their row. Fight or flight had so delicately intertwined itself with an unexpected rush of adrenaline. Nikita jumped out from behind the shelf and blindly swung a powerful home run. A loud yelp was let out by the creature followed by the immediate shower of glass. Nikita fell backwards as projectile shards flew towards her. Her eyes remained closed, sensing the micro shards that dusted the top of her cheeks and rested beneath her eyes.

This time an earth shattering roar blasted through the room, followed by Jackson's whimper. With her eyes still shut while she began scooting backwards as fast as she could, in attempt to get away from the mountain lion. Little shards of glass bit into the soft flesh of her palms, smearing her blood across the carpeted floor. Every muscle in her body felt like it had been rusted, all movement ceased as soon as she felt cold wiry fur brush up against her arm, Nikita's breath escaping her. Within seconds her whole body went cold, a dull ache radiated in her bones as though she were immersed in biting cold water. With eyes still shut she could sense the creature standing next to her, it smelled of fresh blood and wet pines.

Undoubtedly a creature of the woods.

She was drowning in an ocean of fear, and the mountain lion circling its kill like a shark; relishing in the scent of her blood. The creature was studying her, calculating her strengths, observing her weaknesses. Out of instinct her shaky fingers tangled themselves in the thin silver chain around her necklace, as though it could provide her with some sort of courage.

Perhaps it did.

Nikita opened her eyes to be obscured by complete blackness, only to see red savage eyes staring back at her. Her scream begging to claw its way out of her throat, yet no sound was made. Within a heartbeat the creature pounced over her and out through the window, shattering mindlessly through the glass.


Stiles' POV

"Unit 1 do you copy? "

The radio went off, Stiles' hand shot out to grab the walkie, only to have his father slap it away. At once Sheriff Stilinski answered the call, shooting Stiles an annoyed look. The two of them sat in his squad car; patrolling for the night. This was his favorite way to bond with his father, sitting with just the two of them outside their favorite burger joint. Lately the two of them had been so busy, it felt nice to slow down and unwind with his father. The happy teenager stuffed a handful of grease drenched curly fries in his mouth as he leaned back in his seat. It was the first night he had without having to deal with werewolves or Derek, even so, things were on red alert.

Stiles looked to his father, who was now wearing his serious Sheriff face. Something big had taken place, judging by the forlorn expression. Stiles sat straight, smile curving across his salt specked lips.

"It's a good one isn't it."

"Animal attack at the video store."

"Let's go!" Stiles shouted, finger flicking the siren switch before his father could even reach it.

Blue and red lights danced off the oil slicked asphalt, the sharp shrill of the police siren ushering cars aside. In moments they had arrived at the video store, a few squad cars and an ambulance already there.

"This is what happens when you don't use Netflix." Stiles muttered to himself. His dark eyes followed his father as he met with the other deputies. He was told to stay inside the car, to wait, but that was like telling a dolphin not to swim, a bird not to shit on a car. In short... Stiles' restless and curious nature was kicking in.

He hopped out of the car to see Lydia hysterical and in tears, another officer trying to console her. A rock dropped to the pit of Stiles' stomach at the sight of her. Lydia was someone he knew, someone he cared for, even if those feelings weren't reciprocated. This attack hit him much too close.

"I just want to go home, that's a basic concept to understand, especially for a rent-a-cop like you!" Stiles' head snapped to the side when he heard Jackson belittling his father.

And if Jackson was here-

"Way to show respect, Jackson."

-There she was.

Stiles sucked in a breath at the sight of Nikita. She walked towards Jackson, just emerging from the back of the paramedic truck. Her dark chestnut hair had been pulled back into a delicate bun, allowing for wisps of loose strands to frame her heart shaped face and revealing a series of scrapes that ran across the top of her cheek. His eyes traveled down to see both of her hands had been wrapped carefully in bandages, the paramedic urging Nikita to come back to the ambulance; she was already zeroing in on Jackson. Her eyes, darker than the earth beneath them, landed on Stiles, acknowledging his presence for a moment before boring back into Jackson.

"Just answer the questions so we can go home." She partially begged, desperation laced into frustration. Stiles could tell she was frightened, how could she not be?

He moved towards her, placing a hand on the small of her back, offering comfort the only way Stiles knew how; touch. The couple began to bicker and right away Stiles withdrew his hand, maybe it wasn't the best idea.

Sheriff Stilinski stood between the couple looking at the two of them like he was watching a pair of olympiads going at it over a match of table tennis. His patience was wearing thin, finding it difficult to get a word in.

"I'll pretend you didn't say that, you're clearly too shaken up to form a coherent thought." Jackson snapped as the two stood face to face.

Stiles felt his anger build to the surface, no girl should ever be treated or the way Jackson treated Nikita. In fact no person should be treated the way Jackson treated everyone.

"Jackson." Stiles started calmly. "Just answer the-"

The Jock pointed a finger to Stiles, robbing his opportunity to speak. "Hey benchwarmer, shut up before I decide to shove you In a locker tomorrow."

The Sheriff's face went red with anger, but he could do nothing at this point as other deputies joined to watch the argument. Jackson starting to feel like a cornered animal with all the people silently partaking in the spectacle, it only fed into his anger and frustration.

Nikita wagged her finger in Jackson's face "You can't just talk to people like that!"

Stiles' happy heart was floating like a balloon, Nikita actually stood up for him. The two of them had formed a solid foundation of a friendship. That's what friends did, they stuck up for one another. Yet he couldn't contain the excitement he felt when he was near her.

She turned to look towards Stiles "I'm so sorry, he can be such a jerk somet-"

Jackson grabbed her arm, his lips pinched into a straight line. "I guess now would be an appropriate time to tell you."

She turned so suddenly to face Jackson, chestnut tresses slapped Stiles in the face, he didn't mind. "You have to be kidding me-"

"Crap." Sheriff Stilinski muttered under his breath.

"You're not doing this here." Nikita warned.

"You're nothing but dead weight to me Nikita, I've been moving forward in life and you're still stuck... where you are." Jackson went on.

Nikita threw her hands in the air with defeat before bringing them back to rake through her silken hair in distress. "You can't dump me!"

" I'm dumping your ass." Jackson finished, nodding his head as though to confirm to himself.

The Sheriff and Stiles exchanged looks of pure shock. "Is he really doing this right now?" his father whispered.

For a moment Nikita didn't say anything as she was on the verge of tears, processing the very cruel breakup. She looked like a glass deer, so fragile and chipped away at. Stiles had only seen her as stubborn and sharp. He had never seen her look so vulnerable and small, it was almost unsettling. A sudden urge came over Stiles, he wanted nothing more than to hold her, comfort her.

Gently she bit her bottom lip and looked down, nodding her head at the asphalt. When she looked up Jackson fell to the ground, followed by Lydia's loud shriek.

Nikita had punched him square in the jaw, knocking him down. His ass dropped to the ground like a sack of flour. Everyone's mouth, including Jackson's, went slack, his hands cradling the red blotched skin of where he had just taken a right hook.

Stiles had never thought to see anything like this in a million years. The intensity and victory so overwhelming, he had to excuse himself from the scene to run inside his father's squad car.

"Fuck yes!" Stiles screamed, fist pumping the air. A few officers were looking at him with blank stares, he didn't care as he hollered and cheered to himself loudly. Nikita just did what Stiles, Scott, and half the lacrosse team had been wanting to do for years.

Stiles stepped out of the car calm and collected, like nothing had happened, running his fingers over the short bristles of his hair. He noticed his father and Tara holding Nikita back, a raging bull she was. Jackson was still on the floor holding the right side of his jaw. The raw red bruise deepening in color already.

"I can't believe you Jackson! I just saved your life back there!" She screamed as her small hands reached out to grab him, wanting nothing more than to throttle the life out of him.

"You punched me! What the hell is wrong with you!?" Jackson cried out, rudely swatting away helping hands.

"Come a little closer and I'll give you a matching bruise on the other side." Nikita's eyes aflame with pure loathing.

"Do it, do it." Stiles thought to himself, trying so desperately to hide the smirk that threatened to pull across his lips.

Finally Sheriff Stilinski and Tara were able to pull Nikita away from Jackson. She had seemingly given up, letting out an irritated puff of air and walking back to the paramedic truck.

"Do we charge her with battery?" Tara said half jokingly, her smile pulling to the side.

"I saw nothing." Sheriff Stilinski retorted, his expression unreadable, but nothing short of serious.

Lydia kindly helped Jackson up, mascara streaking her flushed pink cheeks. It seemed like his father had everything handled with Lydia and Jackson. Stiles trotted after Nikita, who had seated herself in the back of the medic truck. He had yet to wipe the victorious smile on his face, wishing he could do an instant replay on Jackson getting decked in the face.

"What are you smiling about Stilinski?" her head was rested against the door; Nikita looked like she had been to hell and back. Even though she just had a traumatic night she still found it in her to throw a playful jab or two at Stiles with her brazen ways.

His smile fell, Stiles was being selfish, celebrating the fact that she was sat next to her "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." A small smile graced her face, her bottom lip trembling. Nikita was trying her hardest to hold herself together, falling apart before Stiles.

"Hey, it's okay." Stiles assured Nikita as his hand rubbed her back, feeling her tense beneath his touch. "Just let it out, I won't judge you." That was all it took as she buried her head in his chest and let her emotions pour out like a broken dam. His chin rested on top of her head, he inhaled the soft scent of her jasmine perfume.

He truly was sorry that she was involved, somehow Nikita had become strung up in the Alpha's antics. An innocent bystander, who Stiles would do anything to keep safe. He, Derek, and Scott had yet to figure out the identity of the Alpha. The murders occurring in town were alarming, but this really lit the fire under their asses. This was a direct hit, garnering their attention. Without meaning to, Stiles ran his fingers through her warm chestnut hair.

It hit Stiles, a gorgeous girl was literally crying on him. He had never found himself in a situation like this before. Both his hands went in the air, unsure if she wanted him touching her. Stiles found it hard to gather words of relief, he never knew how to handle others crying, especially girls. Scratch that, he never knew how to act normally around girls, ever. Heat rushed to the surface of his skin, fanning across the apples of his cheeks and burning the tips of his ears. His hands were still held out, not sure where they were supposed to go. Around her waist? Around her shoulders?

Nikita pulled away, with a scrunched expression that screamed 'what the hell, Stiles?' Clearly unsatisfied with Stiles' ability to comfort another.

Stiles licked his bottom lip, understanding he clearly messed up. But he needed to know, he needed to know how deeply involved Nikita became after tonight. "I know you've been asked a million questions…But what did you see in there?"

"I-I don't even know...Red eyes." Her voice muffled in the sleeve of her sweater. Stiles let out a sigh of relief, it would be relatively easy to persuade her it was only a mountain lion.

Stiles' eyes traveled upwards to the roof of the video store. There Scott and Derek stood over the edge, viewing the chaos down below. The hatred was clear cut in Derek's steel blue eyes, they glowed with a ferociousness. Stiles felt the hairs on his back stand on end as he locked eyes with Derek. The Beta was ready to spill blood, no one could tell him otherwise.

Their mission was understood: find the Alpha, and put an end to him.


Nikita's POV

She sat in the Sheriff's office, head leaning against the cold wall, right hand aching and cradled in her left. Stiles sat quiety next to her, never had he been so silent and still, it would have concerned Nikita if she weren't so tired. His presence, oddly, was much needed, more than she would care to admit.

"Thank you." Her voice came out a squeak, like someone had stepped on a mouse. She squeezed her eyes shut, humiliation overridden by exhaustion.

Stiles looked to her, that pitiful look she constantly found herself trying to dodge, Nikita sank in her seat.

"I want to make sure you're alright." His voice soft, trying not to alarm her.

Nikita didn't get a chance to speak when Jackson went off again. Every two minutes he would flip out and shout at Nikita from where he stood, never failed, like Sheriff was keeping him in the waiting room, by the front desk, keeping distance between the two. She could hear profanities spewing from his abnormally large mouth, his voice starting to crack with anger. Nikita rolled her eyes and picked up the gold plated plaque off the Sheriff's desk, his name etched in black. The framed photo across from her caused her to smile, Stiles saw her looking at it and made an attempt to reach for it, in hopes of hiding it from her. Nikita was faster, snatching the photo off the oak desk. The grin on her lips spread, pulling the fresh scabs tightly over the tops of her cheeks.

She admired the photo of a child Stiles, her eyes darting between him and the photo, drawing comparisons. The Stiles in the photo had skinny knobbly knees, a freckled smiling face, proudly displaying a rainbow trout he had just reeled in. The photo itself was kept in a hand-made popsicle stick frame. Nikita let out a small laugh, remembering when she and Cora had to make these back in elementary school.

Stiles shot her a deadpan stare. Before she could say anything he began. " Don't mock my bowl cut phase."

"I'm not! Look how adorable you were, what happened?" Nikita pressed the edge of the frame next to her cheek, like one would nuzzle a kitten.

"Ha ha. My father still calls me a handsome man." Stiles snatched the photo back, holding iit against his chest protectively, like shielding a child from their cruel cruel world.

Nikita blew a strand of her hair out of her face. "Yeah I guess you're not too shabby."

"Yeah you're not too bad."

Nikita's brows lifted at Stiles' thinly veiled compliment, which she would have retorted to if it weren't for Jackson going off once again.

This time the Jock stood up, Lydia grabbing him by the arm, trying to keep him restrained with no luck. He made a move towards the office, he came close enough so that his breath was fogging the window looking into the Sheriff's office. Both Nikita and Stiles averted his gaze, not wanting to stir more trouble.

With his finger pointed at Nikita. "I'm going to have my father sue you." Jackson's words sounding dry and raspy, from all the shouting prior. "I'm going to sue the Sheriff, then i'm going to sue you, Nikita. And I'm going to sue your father for having a hand in raising-"

"-Sit your ass down, boy."

Nikita looked up to see Walter standing right behind Jackson, his grip firm and white to the knuckle over her ex-boyfriend's shoulder, his presence stone cold. The co-captain of the lacrosse team looked absolutely mortified, his soft blue eyes bugging out. Walter's burly figure imposing over his. It was one of those rare moments - maybe the only- where Nikita was glad to see her father.

"And don't get up." Walter's burning gaze keeping Jackson glued to his seat.

Walter marched over to the Sheriff's office, trying to contain the urge to run right over to his daughter. As soon as he opened the door Stiles got to his feet, stiff as a board like a military man. "H-hello Mr.- Dr. Grace."

Walter, still donning his white Doctor's coat, looked Stiles up and down, confused to why the teenager was there in the first place. "Do I know you?"

Stiles, with his mouth agape, looking much like a fish out of water, carefully cleared his throat. " I uh, I'm the Sheriff's-"

"-That's nice." Walter cut in. "Can I get a moment alone with my daugher?"

The teenage boy had yet to move from his place, either in awe of Walter's stature up close, or seemingly too afraid to do so. He had heard much about Walter from Scott. From what his best friend told him, Walter was the kind Doctor dating Melissa McCall.

Walter's brows knitted together at the sight of the awkward boy in front of him. "Now would be nice."

"Y-yes sir." Stiles obliged quickly, in such a hurry to run out of the office he knocked over the trash bin and the contents inside it. Taking a split second to bend over and clean his mess, only to catch Walter's death gaze. He left before Walter could say another word, making sure to close the door behind him.

"He means well." Nikita emphasized.

A moment of terse silence followed. Nikita unsure of her father's expression, unsure of how he felt until he dropped to his knees before her; pulling her into a tight embrace. Nikita's arms still at her side, taken aback by the uncommon display of affection. She wanted to pull away, and ask him where this was during her mother's funeral? Nikita was tired, she was defeated, the day had been far too unkind to her. It felt like this was the beginning of all things, trouble would seek her no matter where she hid.

A soft breath escaped her lips, and she rested her forehead on her father's shoulder for a moment.

"I want to go home." She muttered.

Walter pulled away, mossy green eyes had yet to be unclouded of worry. "Im a moment, I just want to check on you."

He rested her hands on her knees, gently unwrapping the bandages off her hands. "Damn medics did a poor job of wrapping you up." He groaned.

The cool air kissed the fresh cuts that had been cleaned and slicked over with a thick layer of Auquaphor. Nikita bit the bottom of her lip feeling the sting that radiated across the delicate skin of her palms. She watched Walter, the way his strong brows moved together and up upon studying her hand. Nikita had never seen her father at work, never noticed how the faint creases on his face deepen with thought.

Walter pressed his thumb into the back of her hand. The pressure was minimal, Nikita pulled her hand back with a hiss.

"Did you ruin Jack-ass Whittemore's pretty face?" Walter gave her an impish smile, his eyes glimmering with an unmistakable sense of pride at his wonderful dad-joke.

She let out a chuckle, wondering how she never thought of that nickname. "Will you be mad if I say yes?"

His grin widened, deepening the laugh lines around his mouth. " I need to teach you how to throw a proper punch."

"Why's that?"

Once more, Walter pressed his thumb down on the back of her hand, the sharp ache making Nikita cry out. "Crap!"

"Sorry...you have a boxer's fracture."

"Great. And I suppose you're going to teach me how to throw a punch?"

Walter's fingers ran through his dark mane."First rule of throwing a proper punch is having the right form. never tuck your thumb into a fist. You're lucky you didn't break your thumb" He showed her by making a fist, his thumb resting across his index and middle finger. " Keep your arm level to your shoulder. And don't bunch too tight."

He gave her shoulder a playful pat. "You'll be knocking boys off their feet in no time."

Nikita's brows met together, confused at the sage lesson that was being handed to her. "How many people have you punched in your lifetime? And are you encouraging me to punch boys?"

He never bothered to answer her questions, which only filled Nikita's mind with even more questions. Walter got up to his feet, ready to leave. "You'll need a splint for a week. You'll be fine. But we need to go back to the hospital."

Nikita's head rolled back, staring at the pock marked ceiling, mouthing some of her favorite swear words. She finally got to her feet, ready for the night to be over. The two of them walked out of the office. Jackson and Lydia seated just outside, the Sheriff nodding his head at their departure. The angry red bruise on the side of Jackson's jaw had grown to the size of an orange, now mauve in color. Both father and daughter held Jackson in a matching scathing glare, to which he couldn't compete with.

"You're going to need to ice that, son." Walter insisted, before the two of them walked out.


[[[I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! It was pretty fun writing it, I'm going to miss writing highschool drama before diving into the deep dark angst! Please let me know what you thought!]]]]

Also, for those of you who never listened to ' You Oughtta Know' by Alanis Morissette ( you should also listen to the Killing Moon version) and don't know the lyrics:

I want you to know, that I am happy for you
I wish nothing but the best for you both
An older version of me
Is she perverted like me?
Would she go down on you in a theater?
Does she speak eloquently
And would she have your baby?
I'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother

'Cause the love that you gave that we made
Wasn't able to make it enough for you
To be open wide, no
And every time you speak her name
Does she know how you told me
You'd hold me until you died
'Til you died, but you're still alive

And I'm here, to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away
It's not fair, to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me
You, you, you oughta know

You seem very well, things look peaceful
I'm not quite as well, I thought you should know
Did you forget about me, Mr. Duplicity?
I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner
It was a slap in the face
How quickly I was replaced
And are you thinking of me when you fuck her?

'Cause the love that you gave that we made
Wasn't able to make it enough for you
To be open wide, no
And every time you speak her name
Does she know how you told me
You'd hold me until you died
'Til you died, but you're still alive

And I'm here, to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away
It's not fair, to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me
You, you, you oughta know

'Cause the joke that you laid in the bed
That was me and I'm not gonna fade
As soon as you close your eyes, and you know it
And every time I scratch my nails
Down someone else's back I hope you feel it
Well, can you feel it?

And I'm here, to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away
It's not fair, to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me
You, you, you oughta know