Not gonna lie, getting yall's reviews fuelllssss me. Also this episode does very little for me so apologies of this chap is kinda week.
Chapter Fourteen - Reach Out
Nora sat in her bathtub. The only light in the room was coming from outside, where the nearly full moon was fighting through the clouds. She listened as rain started to pour. She tried to tune it out, to only listen to the beat of her heart.
This is fucking stupid.
Nora forced the thought from her head and slipped lower into the tub. Just her chin was above water.
We aren't special. What we know isn't hard to learn. What we do isn't impossible to replicate, and it always terrified me, what the wrong person with the right knowledge could do.
Catarina's book sat on the counter. Nora had read it almost twice now, and a lot of it wasn't much use to her. Nora didn't have much interest in the intricacies of spell work, in which herbs did what when paired with which type of dirt on what phase of the moon.
A lot of sounded like bullshit. It was taking everything she had to remind herself that it wasn't. She believed it. She had to. According to Catarina, believing was half the work. And if there was anything Nora could do and do well, it was believe in something she couldn't see or touch or prove beyond a feeling.
Or maybe her faith was nothing.
It felt like nothing, most of the time.
She dipped her head under the tepid water.
Find an element, a place, anything, that makes you feel tethered, stronger, just a little closer to right.
Nora had to fight to keep her eyes closed. Every cell screamed for her to open them, to open them in time to watch a clawed hand open her window, or Kate Argent's slim figure slip through her door.
She didn't open her eyes. She didn't come up for air despite the slamming of her heart and the tightness in her chest. She could hold her breath for longer than this.
There is a greater power in the world. We can prove that. The problem has always been people who want to give it a name, and who want to make people believe in it without letting them see. The church says that "witchcraft" is a dirty word. I think that's just because we can do the things they pray they can. Real power is terrifying to them.
Nora sat up. Her pendant was tangled in her hair. She tugged it free and opened her eyes. There was barely any difference between having her eyes shut and the near pitch black of her bathroom.
That was the other problem with Catarina's book, she had a tendency to preach and Nora didn't care. She could wrestle with God later.
She slipped back under the water.
I can't describe how it feels, to reach out and actually feel something, to know there's more. I remember being afraid, of myself, of my mother, who reached out so easily. There was a moment, when I realized there was more, when I felt the current that's there, in everything, that I wanted to turn away. It was almost too much; sometimes it still is, to tie myself to this intangible thing. I wanted to be in control. Who doesn't?
Nora focused on the beat of her heart, on how if she tried hard enough, she could make it slow.
She believed in more. She always had. She knew there was more. Scott was proof.
So where was it?
The most important thing I learned was probably the hardest.
Nora strained to hear the difference between the rush of the rain outside and the rush of blood in the rears. The two sounds overlapped and intertwined, like the rush of one river.
Control is overrated.
Nora's English class froze when Lydia Martin walked in. She imagined that had been happening to her all day. If Lydia noticed, Nora couldn't tell. She strode to the back of the room and took her spot next to Nora, her chin raised against the silent stares of her classmates. Nora was trying not to look at her, something she was sure Lydia might care to notice. She couldn't look at her and not see her bloodied on the field or sickly pale in a hospital bed. She couldn't look at Lydia and not think of Kate Argent, using her to twist her way into Allison's head.
Lydia cleared her throat.
Nora looked over at her.
"You didn't miss much last class." She said.
Lydia scowled.
"Thanks for letting me know."
With a flip of her hair she turned to the board. Nora looked down at the blank page of her notebook. What the hell was she supposed to say to Lydia? It was a miracle she didn't know what was really going on around her. Was Nora supposed to shatter that? Was she supposed to tell her that she shouldn't be alive?
Nora leaned forwards and put her head on her desk, listening to the new alien pulsing in her head like it was a second heartbeat. She wasn't sure what she did, what Catarina's book had showed her how to do. She was only sure that it had worked.
The only thing that stopped Stiles from sprinting through the Beacon Hills High Schools hallways were all the goddamn people in the way.
Tonight was the full moon, and the only non-wolfed-out werewolf in town would be Derek, who was one of Stiles' biggest problems. There was also Allison's freak grandfather who had sworn revenge for his sociopath daughter, ripped a homeless omega in half, and was the principal.
Fuck.
Stiles also knew far too much about Scott's sex life.
And he had detention.
Stiles turned around a corner and stopped. He needed to tell Nora what the hell was going on. But right now, it didn't look like he could.
She was leaning back against her locker; Ben was standing opposite to her. She laughed, easily, like she didn't have a thousand things to worry about. Stiles hadn't seen her smile like that in what felt like months, in what probably had been months.
Guilt wormed its way into his chest. Why? Because he used to make her laugh like that? Because she used to look at him like that? Because he was trying to catch her eye and pull her away?
Nora's eyes flicked to him, and Stiles wondered if she could feel him staring. Her smile faltered. She turned back to Ben as the bell rang. He started down the hallway, glancing back at her as he did.
Stiles wanted to put his fist through a wall. Not because of Ben, the other guy that was really the only guy.
No, what Stiles really wanted to punch was himself.
He walked up to Nora, feeling something in his chest deflate as her face hardened. It was like her smile had been a mask, and Stiles was forcing her to peel it off.
"Isaac Lahey is a werewolf." He spat out, shoving his hands into his pockets.
Nora furrowed her brow.
"Who?"
Nora knew everyone, but she didn't know Isaac. Stiles tried to push away the gnawing thought in his head that Isaac had been on his team, in some of his classes, and he'd barely ever noticed him.
"Tall, brown hair, plays lacrosse, always looks kinda like death?" He offered.
Nora's puzzled look faded into anger.
"I don't know if we ever had a chance to kill Derek." She said. "But we should have taken it."
Stiles was trying not to think about the number of times they'd helped that bastard, and for what? Nothing. He'd stolen Scott's chance at a normal life, if there ever even was one.
"Yeah, well, we're probably gonna need him." He sighed. "Tonight's the full moon and Isaac is supposed to spend it in a holding cell."
"You're fucking kidding."
Stiles wished he was. He explained what had happened. Something had ripped Isaac's father to pieces, and as long as the police thought it was Isaac, it didn't matter if it was true or not.
Because if Isaac spent the full moon trapped in the station, he would be a murderer by the morning.
Nora frowned. He could see the gears turning in her head and Stiles would rather talk about anything but werewolves. All they ever talked about werewolves. His eyes flicked to Ben's retreating back. He had caught up with his friends, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. Stiles saw Nora follow his gaze. She looked back at him, an eyebrow quirked.
"What?" She asked him.
"Nothing." Stiles said.
Nora rolled her eyes at him, but in the friendly way that Stiles missed.
"So what's the plan for breaking Isaac out of jail, I assume you have one?" She asked.
Stiles watched as Nora put her books from that morning away. He glanced into her locker. It was neat, Nora was always neat. But she used to decorate her locker with stickers and photos, anything to "make it look less like a metal closet." Maybe she hadn't bothered to decorate again after she'd moved away from him and Scott, after they'd broken up.
"Stiles?" She pressed. "What the fuck are we going to do?"
He snapped back to her, feeling small under her two-toned gaze.
"Scott said he and Allison were going to figure something out." Stiles said, unsurprised when Nora's eyes darkened.
"If I ever trust her, do me a favour and shoot me."
Stiles frowned. He couldn't shake the look of Nora's face when she'd said that, or the fact that she'd even said it. She was furious, but it was more than that, she was cold. Stiles couldn't shake how wrong it seemed for Nora to hate someone as much as it seemed she hated Allison.
"I know you don't trust her, but you could-"
"Be nicer?" Nora snapped, cutting him off.
Stiles opened his mouth to explain that that wasn't what he was going to say. He was going to say that she didn't have to look murderous every time her name was mentioned.
"You weren't there." Nora continued. Her eyes were on him, but Stiles felt like she was looking through him, at something he couldn't see. "She doesn't think with her head, and whatever, some people don't." She gave him a pointed look. "But one wrong move and she can get Scott killed. She shouldn't have come to the hospital the other night; I had hoped that when I asked her to take me she'd say no. She shouldn't be going anywhere near Scott at all, especially since she claims to love him so much. I love Scott to, and if me being around him would put him in danger, I'd stay away, no matter how much it hurt."
Her words fell out of her mouth, like she hadn't planned on saying so much. Her knuckles were white where she was gripping the door of her locker.
Stiles knew he shouldn't tell her what he was about to. But if anyone could scare sense into Scott, it was Nora.
"They're still seeing each other." He told her.
Nora turned to him, slowly, like she was trying to decide if she'd heard him correctly. Stiles' heart hammered.
"Jesus fucking Christ." She said.
Her surprise had quickly turned to anger. Stiles couldn't help but notice she was quicker to get angry now, but he couldn't blame her.
"What?" She sputtered. "Does he- does he have some kind of a death wish? She shot him!"
Stiles shushed her, frantically looking around for anyone who'd heard, or seem to care about what they'd heard. There was no one.
"He loves her." He offered weakly.
Nora made a face somewhere between confused and disgusted.
"So?" She said. "I loved you, I still walked away."
Stiles didn't know what to say to that. Maybe Nora was smarter than Scott, made better choices. His mouth couldn't form the words.
"I loved you."
Past tense.
Stiles knew that. He did.
But it was different to hear it out loud.
The second bell rang, reminding them both that they still had places to be. Real life, normal life, was still happening around them. Nora said something that Stiles didn't hear, and then she was walking away.
Nora wasn't sure who she wanted to scream at more, Allison, or Scott. Realistically, it would be whoever she saw first.
She slammed her bedroom door shut and tossed her backpack across the room onto her bed.
She was sacrificing pieces of every part of life for Scott.
And he couldn't give up Allison?
She understood wanting someone even after they'd hurt her. She understood still loving them. But staying with them? Giving them the chance to hurt her again? No fucking way.
Stiles could have begged for her to forgive him, and Nora liked to believe she would have been strong enough to say no. She was sure if he turned around tomorrow and told her he wanted her back, she'd laugh.
Her heart hammered in her ears, and something else beat along with it, thrumming like electricity, like a current.
Nora's hands went to the cross around her neck. She'd done this, kicked open whatever door this was, to protect Scott. Nora was sure she'd be glad she did it, since it seemed more and more like Scott didn't have any interest in protecting himself.
Still, she wanted to scream. She wanted to scream until her voice cracked and went silent, until it felt like there wasn't anything left inside of her that needed to get out. Why had this happened? Why her? What the hell had she done to deserve all of this bullshit?
Nothing. She knew that. Nora knew that life wasn't about fairness; it was all about circumstances, and choices. At every turn she had chosen to do more, to get in deeper.
But it was different, knowing that she may have done something she couldn't undo.
Nora took a breath. She stood in the centre of her room, the contents of her backpack spilling onto the floor. Her phone was among them. Soon the screen would light up with a message from Stiles, roping her into a half-baked plan involving everyone in the world she wanted to hit. She was sick of it. She was sick of being angry.
Nora shut her eyes and curled her hands into fists, and slowly uncurled them. She wouldn't be much use to anyone of she lost it.
It's hard to convince people that control and focus are different, at least to us they are. Control suggests dominance, like magic is something that you could cage and force to work your way. When I think of focus, I think of balance.
She opened her eyes and turned to her bookshelf. A scented candle she'd repurposed as a bookend sat there; it had never been lit. Nora took a step closer to it. Light streamed in from her window. The full moon was on the rise. Everything, and everyone, was supposed to be stronger tonight.
She picked up the candle and stared at it, resisting the urge to think of what she might say if anyone walked into her bedroom. "No, Marisa, I stand in the dark and stare at this candle every night. Don't you know me?"
A pang of guilt shot through her chest at the thought of Marisa. She hadn't been nearly as lively over the past few days. But she also had never mentioned the mystery surrounding Kate Argent again.
Those were the kind of sacrifices Nora was sick of making. Her sister had nothing to do with what happened in this town after dark, and yet it was hurting her anyway.
Nora turned her focus back to the candle. How was she supposed to do this? Could she even do it?
Light.
The candle did not light. Nora wasn't surprised. Just thinking at it didn't feel right.
She thought of her hand at her side and made it back into a fist. She imagined a flame curling from the wick as she opened her hand. She tried to block out every sound other than the new foreign pulse in her head. It was like being able to hear someone else's heartbeat.
A flame flickered to life. It danced on the wick, small and bright, the only light in the room.
"Holy shit."
Nora nearly dropped the candle.
Quickly, she set it down on her desk, watching as it continued to burn.
A wide smile broke out onto her face. Nora felt as if an anvil had been lifted from her chest. She could do something. She could do something more than plan and watch the plan go wrong. She could do more than wish she was more.
Nora knew the flame flickering in front of her wasn't much. But it felt like a promise.
Derek hated the jeep. If anything ever went the way he wanted, he would never spend another minute in it. It didn't help that Nora was a ball of barely contained tension in the backseat. She kept glowering at him like any second she would lean between the two front seats and try to slit his throat.
Derek wondered if he would put it past her.
She probably had the stomach for it.
But Stiles was almost worst. He wouldn't stop tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.
They pulled up in front of the Sheriff's station, and Stiles let out a sigh.
"Okay." He said. "The keys to every cell are in a password protected lockbox in my father's office. The problem is getting past the front desk." Stiles explained.
That actually sounded like the least of their problems.
"I'll distract her." Derek said, reaching for the door handle
Stiles grabbed his shoulder, fumbling with the collar of his jacket. It took everything Derek had not to hit him.
"What you? You're not going in there." Stiles spat out.
Derek let his eyes flick between Stiles' face and his hand on his arm. "Don't fucking touch me." It what he wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut.
"I'm taking my hand off." Stiles said, jerking his arm away.
"I was exonerated." Derek said, hoping they wouldn't dwell on the topic.
He hadn't killed Laura, but he might as well have.
"You're still a person of interest." Stiles said.
"And you're going to distract her with that? Your charm?" Nora added, finally speaking up.
"An innocent person." Derek reiterated, ignoring Nora's jibe.
Stiles looked at him like he'd just grown a second head.
"An- you?" He looked back at Nora, searching her face for something and clearly not finding it. Stiles turned back to him. "Yeah, right."
Derek shrugged, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. It didn't matter what they thought about what he was guilty of, what they thought about him at all. He just needed Isaac out of that stupid cell.
"Okay, fine." Stiles said. "What's your plan?"
"To distract her." Derek said again.
Nora pinched her brow.
"Uh-huh. How?" Stiles asked. "By punching her in the face?"
Derek might have asked if they thought that was his approach to everything, but he knew that it was.
"By talking to her." He said.
Stiles turned back to Nora, and Derek followed his face. Her eyes were narrowed at him, like she half expected him to get out of the car and leave them to deal with Isaac alone.
"Give us a sample." She said. "I'm not convinced you can carry a conversation without implying a threat."
"Exactly." Stiles said. "What are you gonna open with?"
Derek scowled at them. What did it matter what he was going to open with? He didn't know, he'd figure it out, and right now they were wasting time. He glanced out the window at the moon. It still had farther to rise, but for someone like Isaac, it didn't really matter. He was going to shift, and he was going to get violent when he did.
"Dead silence." Stiles said. "That should work beautifully. Any other ideas?"
"I'm thinking about punching you in the face." Derek said dragging his eyes back to Stiles.
Nora threw herself against the backseats.
"What if I go in?" She offered. Her voice was biting.
Stiles was gaping at her. Derek turned around to try and see if she was serious.
"Isaac is in there." Stiles said.
Nora shrugged.
"It's not like I'm walking in there with a dog bowl with his name on it." She said. "Which is one step up from your usual plans."
Stiles scoffed. Derek didn't know what they were talking about. He popped open the door and slammed it shut before either of them could say another word.
He strode up the steps and inside, trying to forget the feeling of being walked up those very steps, handcuffs digging into his wrists. Innocent or not, that memory wouldn't go away.
He drummed his fingers along the counter as the officer stepped into the room. Derek tried to feel like he belonged, like he had the right to walk into the station and ask this woman to do him a favour.
"Good evening." She said, her eyes trained down on a file, her voice was flat. "How can I help you?" She looked up at him, her voice lightening as she smiled.
Derek twisted his face into a grin, wondering if it looked as alien as it felt. He could feel Stiles and Nora watching him from the doorway.
"Hi." He said.
"Hi." She said, looking him up and down.
Derek ignored the urge to cringe away and let his face fall. He could feel Isaac like he was another limb, a painful seizing limb.
"Um, I had a question." He began, leaning closer to her. "Uh sorry, I'm a little thrown; I wasn't really expecting someone…" He trailed off, letting her fill in the gap.
"Like me?"
He watched as Stiles carefully made his way through reception, Nora walking behind him. Her steps were silent, even though she wasn't being nearly as careful.
"I was going to say someone so incredibly beautiful, but yeah, I guess that would be the same thing." Derek said.
His stomach turned. He hated this. The last time he'd flirted in earnest, he'd been young. Scott's age. Realistically, he'd been a lot like Scott.
"If I go with you, I lose her."
Derek had to stop himself from scowling at what Scott had said to him in Isaac's house.
"You'll lose her anyway."
It didn't matter how, or when, or why. Scott would lose Allison. The same way Stiles had so obviously lost Nora. The same way Derek had lost-
The deputy asked him a question. Derek moved away from his thought, and widened his smile.
Nora followed Stiles into his father's office. They didn't dare turn on a light. He strode over to the lockbox and punched in a code. Nora eyed the door.
"Oh no." Stiles said slowly, whirling around.
Nora's heart crawled into her throat.
"What?"
"The keys are gone." Stiles said.
"Fuck."
They darted back into the hallway. Nora's eyes fell to the floor. There was blood.
"Allison was supposed to take care of him." Nora said lowly.
Stiles turned to her, looking slightly sick. He gestured to the floor.
"Yeah and it looks like she tried." He said quickly. "What the hell did you think she was going to do?"
Nora didn't say anything, and instead charged down the hall. The lights above her head flickered as she did.
Allison had seemed all too prepared to kill Derek.
And no, Nora didn't think Allison should have killed the hunter her father sent after Isaac. But if she'd shot him in the side, he'd be in the hospital instead of here.
A deputy stepped into the hallway. Stiles stopped dead.
"Oh, ah, just looking for-" He stopped.
Nora had already seen what he had, the broken shaft of an arrow sticking out of the man's leg.
For a moment, no one moved.
Stiles pushed Nora back, turning to run as the hunter seized him and clamped his hand over Stiles' mouth. The hunter held the syringe in his hand to Stiles' neck, and his gaze with Nora's. It was like he was daring her to move, to do so much as speak.
He continued to drag Stiles back down the hallway, and Stiles, Stiles didn't even look afraid. Either he didn't know there was a needle being held to his neck, or more likely, he knew the hunter needed it for Isaac.
Nora reached out and pulled the fire alarm, the shrill sound breaking the hunter's focus on them both. He forced Stiles to the floor and sprinted around the corner. Nora didn't wait, and ran after him. She could hear Stiles' sneakers squeaking on the linoleum behind her.
Her heart hammered, the current beneath her skin thrummed. Nora wondered if the candle in her bedroom was still burning, if she was keeping it alive or if it was flickering on its own.
Stiles ran into her she stopped in the doorway of the holding cells. The hunter was frozen, staring at the warped door to one of the cells.
A figure was poised the corner of Nora's eye. She reeled back as Isaac lunged at the hunter. Stiles' hand was on her arm, pulling her with him as he scrambled behind a desk.
"Shit." She said.
Isaac roared, tossing the hunter against the far wall. He twisted the hunter's arm, and with a sickening snap, the syringe fell from the man's hand. Isaac stood over the hunter's limp form. Something in Nora's stomach turned. She jumped to her feet.
She wasn't about to watch this kid rip a man to pieces.
Derek stepped into the room, the syringe crunching under his foot.
Isaac reeled around. His eyes, wide with fear and rage, settled on her and Stiles.
Nora seized Stiles' hand and yanked him to his feet as Derek roared. Nora froze, watching as Isaac turned in on himself and coward, crouching next to the hunter he'd just attacked. He turned back to them; his face was half hidden by his arm wrapped around his head. She remembered what Stiles had told her, that Isaac's father had been beating him, and probably had been for years.
She looked at Derek, and then back to the boy huddled on the floor.
Rage coiled in her chest. So that was how Derek had done it. He'd found someone vulnerable, who needed strength, who needed family, and he promised him he'd get it.
"How did you do that?" Stiles asked, his voice wavering.
Derek looked back at them, almost smug.
"I'm the alpha."
Nora let Stiles' hand fall from hers as he stood up, shaky on his feet. She looked back at Derek. There was no shortage of vulnerable people in the world, and Beacon Hills was not an exception. If Derek wanted teenagers with low self-esteem, an unrelenting want for strength, to fit in somewhere, no matter the cost, to make decisions that would change their life without regard, he would find them. She remembered Scott telling her that once Derek had said werewolves were predators, but that they didn't have to be killers.
How was turning teenagers any different?
Isaac's life was never going to be the same, no matter how ruined it had been before, it was definitely worse now.
Nora let her eyes meet his, and wondered if Derek was listening to the steady beat of her heart in her chest, and to the foreign thing that now beat beside it. Could he hear that to?
"You're a monster."
Sofia watched Nora tread up the stairs and towards her bedroom. She gripped the handle of her mug, her tea now cold.
"She's unhappy." She said, looking over at Pete.
He leaned on the island, staring into the potted orchid that sat there.
"I know." He said, his low voice rougher than usual. "Isabelle asked me about it the other day."
Sox strolled into the kitchen; the massive Irish Wolfhound was nearly as tall as the breakfast table Sofia was sitting at. It put its head in her lap.
"Why can't we just ask her what it is?" Sofia asked, letting her frustration bleed into her voice. She didn't want to dance around this anymore.
Pete gave her a wry look, his deep blue eyes the saddest she'd seen them in years.
"Because she won't answer."
Sofia knew that, but that didn't mean she had to accept it.
"It's like living with a ghost." She said, careful to keep her voice hushed. "She barely speaks at meals; she doesn't spend time with the twins, or with us. I only know she's still here because Sox still gets walked and the dishes get done." She stood up and crossed the room, standing opposite to her husband at the island. "It's not Stiles anymore, that much I think we can tell."
Pete levelled his gaze with hers, and ran a hand over his face, scratching at his beard.
"I know."
Sofia sighed and strode towards the stairs.
"Well it's nice that you know things, Pete."
"Sof-" He began.
"I'm going to bed." She cut him off.
Sofia loved her husband, but she knew his worst flaw well. He was too patient with people. He gave them too many chances. He did it with Nora's mother, and now with Nora. Sofia couldn't let her just drift away, not if she didn't know where she was going.
Lol so this took two weeks, IDK I'm tired and busy. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated, I'm so excited for season 2 to start picking up so things can get legit interesting. I think season 2 and 3b are the best of the show TBH.