If Theo ever had doubts about her, they vanished the second he got that fateful phone call.

"God, I'm gonna kill him! Connor MonHeim's a dead man, I swear."

"I'm so sorry, Kamilla," he said, sitting in his truck and trying to stifle the smile in his voice. He was idling in front of the shack that lead to the Dread Doctors' sewers, fully planning on pitching a fit before she had called him. Things weren't exactly going as he imagined they would in his mind, and he was getting antsy. Fortunately, this little incident got things back on track. Well, he would have preferred Ren, but Kamilla would do. "What's your address? Okay, I'll come pick you up."

As soon as he hung up, he shot Rebecca a text: Just heard what happened. You okay?

She responded in a matter of seconds. Not really. Have you heard from Kamilla?

No, not yet, he typed. I'm here if you need anything.

Thanks, Theo. Really.

Theo tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel and hummed while pulling back out onto the road. Looks like the day could be saved after all.

Rebecca hadn't spoken to Ren in days. He'd called and left voice messages, but a selfish part of her blamed him for setting Kamilla off like that. After all, he was the one who had to bring up her dead parents.

She didn't know where she was driving; she had skipped school in favour of ambling through the town, hoping she could run over Connor again. Mostly, though, she was looking out for any sign of Dread Doctors or Kamilla or anything she could fling her life at and get her blood pumping again. It felt like she had forgotten how to be alive the second Kamilla shut that door.

She pulled into the library, to scratch an itch and to feel less alone. Once inside, she stared at the memorial near the entrance. Justin Rhine. The librarian who had warned them about the Dread Doctors and who had been killed because of her. Justin Rhine.

She knew that last name; a boy a few grades younger than her was Marcus Rhine. Her stomach twisted. Was that his uncle that she killed? His father?

She stared at his picture, too scared to look down and see the flowers and cards heaped on the table. The problems that she created reached more people than she wanted to admit.

"You okay, Miss?"

Another librarian, a pretty dark skinned woman who couldn't be older than thirty, was hovering a few paces away with a concerned look on her face. For a flash, Rebecca confused her worry for hostility - did she know what happened? Why was she looking at her like that?

Until she realized that she was quite clearly skipping school, backpack slung over her shoulder and all.

"Yeah," Rebecca said, looking back to the picture of Justin and frowning.

"You're Deputy Virk's daughter, right?"

Rebecca grimaced. "Yeah?"

The woman smiled. "How nice! How is she?"

Awful. "She's fine."

"That's good," the lady said, tipping back on her heels and looking towards the door. "Are you waiting for her?"

"Is she coming?"

"Oh, um," the lady said, confusion ebbing into her expression. "She sometimes stops by at lunch, before she visits the cemetery."

"Cemetery," Rebecca echoed, readjusting her backpack strap. "Right. Thank you."

"Okay…" the lady said, her brows furrowing as she watched Rebecca trot right back out the door from which she came. Perhaps it wouldn't be too out of line to give the Deputy a call...

Travis DeClair's grave was small and sad. It was the first time she had visited it since the funeral, and seeing it with only a few wrapped flowers atop it made her feel impossibly empty.

Turning her head as her body finally went limp, she saw Travis hit the ground beside her, a steady flow of Mercury pooling out of his mouth, ears, eyes, everywhere. The hold on her chest finally released and Rebecca allowed oxygen to trickle into her trachea and give her life.

The beings, she guessed, disappeared back into the forest, leaving nothing but a dead body and a numb buzzing in Rebecca's ears. She lay beside Travis as red and silver liquid dripped out of his body and slowly dissolved into the soil.

She stretched out her hand towards him. She had just used her powers for the first time in a month and her head felt like it was splitting open. The air was too cold to breathe. The ground was painted red and sickly silver, which disoriented her even more.

"T-Travis?" Rebecca rasped. His head careened forward, slack jaw and open mouth settling against the Earth. His eyes were hollow. "Travis?"

Tears streamed down her face. Somehow, she managed to rise to her feet and stand over him. She hooked her arms under his armpits and dragged him a few feet before her knees gave out.

"Come on, get up," Rebecca begged, not caring that her clothes were stained with blood. She fell backwards, hugging him to her chest and allowing his dead weight to pin her to the uncaring earth. "Please, please get up …"

"Becks?"

Rebecca sniffled, wiped her eyes, then turned to see her mother a few paces away. She was still in uniform, and Rebecca could see her cruiser parked behind her own car on the adjacent street.

"Hey," Myriam said, reaching out and touching Rebecca's arm when she was close enough. Her soft tone made Rebecca crack like glass within a tight grip. She lunged forward and buried her face into her mom's shoulder. "Woah - okay, it's okay."

Rebecca didn't know how long she had stood there, crying in her mother's arms, but she didn't feel as empty when she finally raised her head.

Myriam had started crying at some point as well. She wasn't quick to let Rebecca go, not that she minded; she hadn't seen her mother this upset since … well.

"I've been doing this all wrong," Myriam admitted. Rebecca stiffened upon hearing the raw emotion in her voice: She didn't know if she was ready to hear what her mom had to say.

Strangely, she didn't continue.

"What?" Rebecca asked after a minute.

Myriam pressed Rebecca's cheek against her collarbone. "You know what il baba used to say to me?"

Rebecca wrapped her arms around her mother's waist and listened to her heartbeat. Her grandfather had died before she was born, but by the way her mom spoke of him, he was the wisest man who ever lived. She could use some wisdom right about now.

"He said that there are three truths to every situation," Myriam said. "What you think is the truth, what the other person thinks is the truth, and the actual, objective truth." Rebecca heard her mother's heartbeat pick up. "And I… I think … I've only been listening to my own."

Rebecca was tempted to say nothing. The silence stretched on for a few more beats as she wallowed in her own self-righteousness. Damn straight you did! You look at me like I'm a criminal and treat me like a baby! You only listen to me when I'm saying something wrong and only care when you feel like it…

That would be the easy thing to do, at least. It would be easy to pretend she was infallible and that she didn't bring a dangerous creature into their house, or lie, or do a hundred other things that still weigh her down.

"Me too," Rebecca said.

They stare at the grave for a while. In treasured memory of Travis DeClair: loving son, nephew, and grandson.

"Rebecca, listen. I know you hated having Mrs. Lovelace there …"

"Mom…"

"No, wait a second," Myriam said, wiping a tear from her eye with the back of her hand. "I know you did and part of the reason she died was because I insisted she be there." Her eyes hardened. "But another reason was because you brought a cannibal into my house without saying anything."

Rebecca felt a swell of indignation at her mother's tone. "I was just trying to…"

"And … and I'm sorry that you felt like you couldn't tell me."

Rebecca stared up at Myriam as if she had grown another head. Her lower lip was trembling as she wiped another tear from her eye.

"Stacey was gone. Whatever Ren accidentally did… she wasn't ever coming back. I don't think after what those things did to her, she'd ever come back, really." Her shoulders sagged. "I just wanted to try, Rebecca. Stacey's parents come to the station every day asking about Stacey and … I know how that feels. That fear, I … I understand. I feel the same way every time you're late, or whenever you're not at home."

Myriam pulled Rebecca into another hug, holding her as if the wind was about to blow her away.

"I can't lose you," Myriam said. Rebecca had never heard her mother sound so small. "God, Rebecca, I just wanted you to have a good life."

Rebecca hugged her tighter, unsure how to talk through the lump in her throat, or even what she could possibly say.

Myriam's hand drifted up to Rebecca's hair.

"S-so I'm trying to think about the objective truth," Myriam said, squeezing her eyes shut. "'Cause I can't lose you, but I can't watch another set of parents lose their kids, either."

Rebecca didn't dream of trying to stand upright. She stayed buried in Myriam's shoulder, trying to wrap her head around what this meant, not just for her or Myriam, but for every other person in town and for Travis, Stacey, and Omar.

What she did know was that things weren't fixed, not even close. But maybe the pieces weren't as far apart as she had thought.

:((((((((((((

alice 0 - Thank you SO much! These characters are idiots, but hopefully lovable idiots 3

Hopefully more consistent updates in the coming weeks? I know teen wolf has been dead but I can't just stop writing this story, for my own sanity