I'm back, folks! I conquered my goal for NaNo, which was to complete the second part of my series. It's now with my beta readers and awaits their mean red pens. As usual I'm a nervous wreck, but getting back into this story will help to distract me.

So, this chapter. It's a lot of court talk, but since I'm not a lawyer I had to make up stuff as I went along. I hope it's not too outlandish, haha. If something's really super wrong or unlikely, let me know and I'll try to make it better.

Have fun and stay safe!


Chapter 55

Showtime was the word for it. An adjudication was meant to be kept fairly small and, even more importantly, short, but that obviously wasn't what Scott's lawyer was going for. A few minutes after the Stilinski party had taken their seats, and during which Stiles had ripped his very first good luck card, two officers escorted Melissa and her ex-husband Rafe to the seats by Mr. Clark, and then Doctor Deaton was calmly strolling to one of the few visitor chairs and settled in like he owned the place. Scott, who came in last, accompanied by yet another officer, looked surprisingly fresh and infuriatingly gentle as he gingerly sat by his parents. He appeared almost smart in the white shirt and dark suit jacket he'd been given, but not quite.

"I didn't think it was possible, but I can actually see the difference between wolf and no wolf," Stiles' father murmured as he appraised Scott's slightly slouchy form. "Fascinating."

"There's no longer that edge," Stiles agreed, furious again because that not so little fact would probably influence the judge's ruling. Out of sight, he ripped up his good luck card and stuffed it into his pant pocket. "Let's hope that Judge O'Neill won't be fooled by his innocent sheeple cosplay."

"Innocent sheeple cosplay," Derek echoed faintly.

Peter smirked. "She won't be."

Scott chose that moment to turn his puppy dog eyes to Stiles and offer a hesitant smile.

Like things would be okay once this was over.

"Shhh, it's alright," the sheriff soothed and placed a heavy hand on Stiles' tense shoulder. "We're all here, and things won't go back to how they were before he decided to turn on us."

"How do you know what I was thinking?" Stiles croaked. He swallowed against the nausea in the back of this throat.

"I know because I know you, kiddo. But I promise, whatever's going to be decided today, Scott's out of our lives."

"I can always make that permanent," Peter threw in, voice silky and genuinely inviting. "Just say the word."

John's voice didn't even rise as he answered, "Don't take us too seriously in the next couple of months; depending on how this goes there might be a lot of cursing and wishing the kid the worst."

Stiles managed to collect himself. "This. A lot of cursing will happen, so no going a-murdering without a rational discussion."

"As much as I adore your clever mind, I'm not convinced that you can be rational when it comes to The Failure," Peter murmured.

"There you have it," Stiles returned just as quietly, a little more settled already. "If necessary, we can ruin his life in a thousand other ways."

Peter's smile widened. "We?"

"Of course we. Ruining Scott, if he gets out of line again, should be a team effort."

"Stiles," the sheriff sighed. "Could you maybe keep your diabolical planning out of the courtroom, please?"

"Sure, daddio." Stiles had it in him to smile, despite noticing Scott actually leaning forward in a futile attempt at listening in. Yet another thing you've taken for granted, Scotty Boy.

His father patted his shoulder one last time. "Good. I'd hate to have to visit you in prison."

"You'd let them send me to prison?" Stiles squawked. "Very uncool, dad!"

"I'd break you out," Peter purred.

"I'd help," Derek added without any hesitation.

Stiles was tempted to grab them both and smush his cheek against theirs in some active-aggressive scent-marking because that was just amazing. Only the bailiff announcing the start of the session kept him from sappily showing his appreciation, but Peter's pleased little smirk told Stiles that he'd gotten the message.

Judge O'Neill strode into the room, took her seat, and impatiently greeted everyone after the bailiff's dutiful recounting of the particulars.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have four other cases to rule. I'd therefore appreciate clear and concise pleas after I've laid out the facts and the district attorney's recommendation for punishment. My final verdict will follow. Mr. Clark, you have the floor."

Mr. Clark stood and straightened his lapel. "Thank you, Your Honour. After taking all the available information into consideration, this case is complicated, to say the least. Quite a few things still don't make any real sense, the reason for the falling out between Mr. Stilinski and my client being the most obvious. Unfortunately, Mr. Stilinski has refused so far to tell us his side of it in detail and I therefore would like for a redirect of a previous witness before I present my plea."

"That's highly unusual," Judge O'Neill said, unamused. "You had several months to procure this information and I'm not inclined to let you waste my time like this. We are, by your own request, not at trial. There is no jury to impress."

"We were stonewalled by the family," Mr. Clark said evenly. "We got some facts, certainly, but what is missing, in my opinion, is the human factor in all this. As things stand right now, Mr. McCall was completely driven by emotion, and Mr. Stilinski apparently not at all, something that I can hardly believe, considering that both are, by all accounts, normal teenagers. The severity of events alone should have provoked a more human response by Mr. Stilinski, wouldn't you agree?"

"Objection," Mr. Whittemore said and stood. "Mr. Stilinski is no less human just because he's been following the basic rules of keeping his private life private."

"I'd like to question Mr. Stilinski, with your permission, Your Honour, to find out just how involved Mr. Stilinski really was in Mr. McCall's turn from, ah, acceptable behaviour."

"Objection, Your Honour," Mr. Whittemore said again. "First of all, Scott McCall's recounting of events is, in fact, unnecessarily studded with emotion, and second of all is his recount a fantastical fairytale more fit for children than the near-adult he is."

"Stiles nearly got me killed," Scott interjected. "For a lark!"

"Mr. McCall, you'll let your lawyer speak unless you're being questioned in an official capacity," Judge O'Neill said sharply. "Do it again and you'll be fined."

Scott pressed his lips together in frustration but nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now, while Mr. Clark is clearly fishing, I'll allow it on account of wanting to know the whole truth as well," Judge O'Neill continued. "Do not object, Mr. Whittemore; we all know that Mr. Stilinski was rather light on certain details. If Mr. Clark feels that he needs that specific information to better prepare his plea, I'll allow it - and allow the same courtesy in return. You may ask Mr. McCall the same amount of questions. I'll keep count."

Mr. Whittemore nodded curtly and Stiles noted that Scott's lawyer didn't look nearly as triumphant than he'd obviously expected to be. Having turnabout be fair play had obviously not really factored into his little plan.

"Will you be alright?" Mr. Whittemore asked Stiles. "Do you need a small break?"

"No, it's alright. But you all should make very clear what I'm allowed to say because Clark won't pull his punches," Stiles replied. He narrowed his eyes at Scott, who was staring at him. "Any hard limits?"

"For you? None." Peter smirked at Derek's quiet growl. "No, really, go all out. As long as it doesn't threaten my position against the Argents, tell them everything short of us being other."

Stiles cocked his head. "You really want me to win that bet, don't you?"

"Mmh, David's favourite restaurant for lunch is La Toscana. Their linguine tuttomare are to die for."

Whittemore smirked. "I'm beginning to regret inviting you along. You'll eat me out of house and home."

"Mr. Stilinski, if you'd join me in the front?" Judge O'Neill called. "Unless you'd like to refuse to answer any question at all?"

"Go," Peter said and tipped his chin in Judge O'Neill's direction. "Make him cry."

"Peter," Stiles' father sighed.

Giving them all a small grin, Stiles stood and crossed the room. Having Scott's eyes on him was still unpleasant after all these months of stalking, but it did lack the threatening feel from before. Even Lou was barely stirring on his skin; instead the wolf spirit was doing his best to cover all of Stiles' back and hug him around the middle. It was downright sweet.

"Mr. Stilinski, let me just remind us all that you're not on trial here," Judge O'Neill said after he'd sat down in the witness chair, sending a look at Mr. Clark. "If you feel uncomfortable answering a question, just say so. Likewise, Mr. Whittemore and I will interfere should Mr. Clark ask questions outside his stated area of interest. Do you understand?"

Stiles nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Very well. You may begin, Mr. Clark. Do remember to make it quick."

"Yes, Your Honour." Clark turned his attention to Stiles, a slightly smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Mr. Stilinski, would you say that Mr. McCall was your best friend, before that night in January?"

Stiles had no problem admitting it. "Yes."

"And would you say that it was this friendship that enabled you to persuade Mr. McCall to follow you into the preserve at night, to search for a dead body?"

"It's likely," Stiles confessed. "Though it's not like I dragged him out under threat of physical torture or something."

"Disappointing his only friend might have been just as bad," Mr. Clark answered evenly. "In any case, you went into the woods, and got split up when Sheriff Stilinski discovered you?"

"Yes," Stiles said again, looking patiently at the lawyer.

"You left Mr. McCall all alone in an unfamiliar area while it was dark," Mr. Clark prodded.

Stiles shrugged. "It was his choice. It was either being discovered and grounded until he's thirty, or trekking home using his phone as a compass. It wouldn't have been hard, we weren't very far from civilization. Scott chose to hide, which was fair. His mom's scary."

Melissa smiled tremulously at him.

"But Mr. McCall didn't know that he was close to town at the time," Clark said. "He thought you'd abandoned him deep in the woods, in the dark and cold, knowing that it would be bad for his lungs."

"Scott's phone would've told him in seconds how far he was from home," Stiles replied calmly, beginning to enjoy the game Clark thought he was playing with him. "What he really thought after my dad got me, I don't know. As to his asthma, he's been asthmatic all his life. He had his inhaler, and he knew what he was about when he decided to join me on my ill-advised adventure."

Mr. Clark frowned. "You're not sorry for stranding him in the woods?"

"I'm sorry that he was scared," Stiles admitted. "And I was sorry that I'd almost gotten him in huge trouble with his mom. She really didn't deserve any of the crap Scott and I pulled over the years. But I'm not sorry for stranding him, because Scott did have a choice, and he made it."

"What a choice," Mr. Clark almost sneered.

"Objection," Mr. Whittemore drawled. "It's not expedient to try and make Stiles into some sort of parent for Mr. McCall. While it wasn't clever to go into the woods at night, Mr. Stilinski is not responsible for Mr. McCall's actions. They were both old enough to know what they were doing."

"Sustained," Judge O'Neill said. "Continue, Mr. Clark, without applying unrealistic standards to Mr. Stilinski."

Behind Mr. Clark, Rafael McCall's face soured while Melissa smiled wryly.

"Still, your abandonment did cause Mr. McCall to get lost in the woods, and lose his inhaler to boot when he was attacked by a large animal," Mr. Clark said.

"Objection," Mr. Whittemore interjected. "Mr. Stilinski is exceedingly aware of the happenings in and around Beacon Hills due to his father's work. While there are large predators in northern California, they're largely, if not completely, accounted for by our gamekeepers and biologists. Mr. Stilinski did state that he probably wouldn't have gone into the woods if there'd been reports of unusual animal activity."

"Sustained," Judge O'Neill replied. "Get to the point, Mr. Clark."

"My point is that Mr. Stilinski's carelessness directly resulted in Mr. McCall getting attacked by a wild animal and being hurt badly enough to pass out and spend the night in the woods. It might well have been fatal."

Stiles looked expectantly first at Clark and then at the judge. "Was there a question in there? Ma'am?"

Judge O'Neill's lips twitched. "No. Mr. Clark? You point?"

"My point is that Mr. Stilinski's unfeeling dismissal of Mr. McCall's health led to a lengthy health crisis which included amnesia, uncommon aggression, uncommon sensitivity to lights, sounds, and smells, and a persisting brain fog that made studying nearly impossible."

"That sounds a lot like rabies," Stiles said when another expectant silence settled on the room.

"Exactly!" Mr. Clark almost cried triumphantly. He even almost pointed at Stiles.

Stiles fought hard not to smirk. "Except that it can't have been rabies because then Scott would be long dead. Sorry, Melissa."

"It was something," Mr. Clark insisted. "Something that happened because you convinced him to go out into the woods."

Judge O'Neill tapped her gavel. "We've already closed that avenue of questioning, Mr. Clark. Note that you'll be fined for contempt. Do not make me escalate the fine by insisting on this line of questioning. The way I see it, you're dangerously close to applying undue pressure on a minor."

Clark's face took on a ruddy tone but he caught himself and took a deep breath. "Yes, Your Honour. My apologies."

Stiles raised his hand. Innocently, like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, he said, "Can I ask whether Scott went to the doctor after that night? I mean, you just told us how bad the bite was and how off he felt for weeks and months. Surely he'd have gone, seeing how his own mom works at the hospital?"

Peter smiled toothily at him from across the room and even his father's lip curled up slightly. In contrast, Scott's face showed all of the betrayal he was capable of and only his father's heavy hand on his shoulder kept him from blurting out something insulting.

"I mean, it's not like I didn't suggest it to him a time or two," Stiles continued. "Plus, I went into the preserve with him to look for his lost inhaler because that shi … stuff is expensive and Scott's mom really didn't deserve having to pay for a replacement. Even if I did fail in applying common sense the night before, I did try to make it up."

"Mr. Clark?" Judge O'Neill prompted when the lawyer failed to respond.

"He didn't go, Your Honour," Melissa supplied hesitantly after raising her hand. "I noticed that he was out of sorts for a while back in January, but I'd have known if he'd gone to one of the doctors at the hospital. Had he gone to one of the private practices in town, well. The bill would've come to me eventually, but there never was one."

"Thank you, Mrs. McCall," Judge O'Neill said kindly. She turned her gaze back to Clark. "Now, will you pose the questions you really wish to ask, or can we stop and get to the ruling part of the morning?"

"I have more," Mr. Clark said, rallying. "I wish to know why Mr. Stilinski abandoned Mr. McCall when he was clearly suffering from that mysterious illness. Several witness reports paint a very dim picture of Mr. Stilinski quickly looking for new friends when his friendship with Mr. McCall turned sour through no fault of my client's. Is it any wonder he turned to the only person still willing to interact with him, his then-girlfriend Allison Argent?"

"First of all, it was Scott's fault," Stiles told him bluntly. "I tried to help. I told him to go to a doctor but he wouldn't listen because, next to the issues you described earlier, he was also breathing better and getting more fit by the day. Scott didn't want to jeopardize that, I guess."

"Not surprising, after the ordeal he went through," Clark said dismissively.

"So it's alright for Scott to not see a doctor if it's about what he wants?" Stiles stared at Clark. "It's alright for him to focus so much on his girlfriend that I didn't have any choice but to find new friends if I didn't want to go through the rest of the school term a loner?"

"That wasn't how-," Scott protested, only to be interrupted by the judge's banging gavel.

"That's exactly what happened," Stiles said evenly. "You were suddenly an athlete, Scotty, and everything else but that and Allison ceased to matter. Just shows what sort of friend you are."

Mr. Clark cleared his throat. "Well, we're not questioning Mr. McCall's actions right now. Please state for the record since when he supposedly started making you feel uncomfortable, Mr. Stilinski."

"It's all in the reports, but sure, I'll gladly repeat myself for you." Stiles winked when Peter snorted quietly. "It was around the end of February, I suppose, when Scott got it in his head that I ruined his chances of healing his weird health issue."

"The health issue that made him stronger and more healthy?" Judge O'Neill asked with a raised eyebrow. "I did note that his doctors failed to prescribe new medication for his asthma during January and April, and that he's played first string on the lacrosse team before the events in the preserve."

"Yes," Stiles replied. "Anyway, in Scott's mind it was my fault that he'd never go back to normal now, and that's when he started stalking me all over the school and probably out of it as well. Although, to be fair, I rarely noticed him then."

"But you acknowledge that Mr. McCall was desperate to regain his former status quo, even if you're not inclined to accept the validity of that wish?" Mr. Clark pressed.

"You misunderstand," Stiles answered slowly. "I understood his wish very well. I was even sympathetic the first few weeks and tried to help him get through his issues however I could. There just wasn't anything to be done about it. Certainly not whatever voodoo witchy stuff he'd dreamed up in his head. I mean, if an actual animal bite transformed Scott's health, for lack of a better word, I'm not sure what a mumbo jumbo ritual could've done to take it back. I merely told him so and earned his unrelenting menace for it." He shrugged. "He even got his girlfriend to help with the stalking. It was rather scary since she was trained in martial arts and archery. Plus, he must've set her grandfather, Gerard Argent, on me as well, since he tried to talk to me at home. Twice."

Now Mr. Clark looked like he'd bitten into a particularly bitter gourd. "You're insinuating that the Argents were out to harm you."

"And you're insinuating that they weren't," Stiles countered. "In case you've forgotten: Kate Argent was wanted for setting the Hale house on fire, nearly killing the whole family. She regularly spent time with Allison Argent before she died and taught her some tricks of her trade. Her grandfather was threatening me in school and out of it, for which my father and I have proof."

"You can't prove that Gerard Argent truly meant to menace you," Mr. Clark said and earned himself an incredulous look from almost everyone present. "And in any case, it's not Ms. Argent or her family we're talking about, but you."

"So what do you want to know? That I felt menaced enough to distance myself from Scott's delusions and had the good fortune to find several new friends who weren't douchebags? Or that meeting those friends literally helped me get through the crap Scott pulled just to get his way?"

"Mr. Stilinski, what I'm really interested in is why you couldn't simply support Mr. McCall in his endeavor to complete his … ritual, if he thought that'd help," Mr. Clark asked. "As far as delusions go, it'd have been a harmless one."

Stiles stared at him and then looked over to his family. Derek's expression was stony and he had his arms crossed over his chest, but Peter was returning his stare with intent. After a moment of brushing his shoulder against Derek's he nodded subtly.

Do it, he mouthed.

Stiles exhaled, long and slow. "I couldn't have supported him because it'd have been murder."


End of part 55