Author's note: set in 2x02.
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf. No financial gain is made from this. This is for entertainment purposes only.
"He-hello?... Yes, I know we said we wouldn't contact each other. It's just… Oh, god, this is embarrassing… It's just that I've been thinking. About us… After all we've been through… Well, I just realized my feelings for you…I am sorry, it was just something I had to tell you… if you feel the same way, we should give it a try, doesn't matter if it is complicated… Being you and me? Of course it is going to be complicated-"
"What are you doing?"
"Sorry, talk to you later. Since you left, I miss you."
A fuchsia nail pressed the end call button and Mia rolled her perfectly made-up eyes. "What?!"
I chuckled. "That didn't sound like Mia at all."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"And who is the lucky boy?"
She pursued her lips, suddenly shy. "Cody," she said in a little voice.
I was baffled. "Cody?"
She nodded.
"What about Rick?"
"Rick?" she exclaimed. "Don't speak to me about that… that… lunatic! He went completely cuckoo. Started telling everybody that he had seen werewolves and what else. Can you believe it? Totally crazy."
"Yeah… totally crazy…"
I left Mia – who started a new phone call – between 'DIY' and 'Spiritualism' and headed to the office. Over the old desk, several open newspapers covered the mahogany wood. I read them now for pleasure, to just be up to date. No more mysteries plagued my waking hour and no more murderers hunted my nights.
We closed the store, which flaunted a new window glass and a new shelve disposition. I gave a nod to Miss Martinez as I sped down the street with my bike. She was overlooking the construction of her bakery, complaining about this and that.
Back at home, I was welcomed by silence and a huge pile of books adorning every corner of my room, adding to the usual untidiness. I let out a long breath and slouched in the bed. My mother had been clear: the first step to my initiation was memorizing (or even better, understanding) a lot of information. Then she produced more than fifteen different tomes, of different authors, dates and languages.
I opened the book closest to me. It was of a pretty emerald color, a bit shiny, but its leaves were worn down and yellowing. I was close to finishing it.
Since the final fight against the Alpha and death of Kate Argent, I had not been contacted by neither Stiles and Scott, or Derek. That was around a week ago. This quietness gave me time to make grow the pile of books read. The green book would be number four.
But in my attempt to rush to the last page, I ignored my tiredness, and somewhere around the chapters I fell asleep.
A buzzing sound reverberated near my ear. Under a heavy book I found my mobile phone. The screen read 'D. H.'.
"Hello?"
"Imogene, I am here. Can you come down," Derek Hale greeted me, clearly not as affected by the time passed as me.
I sighed. "You are where?"
"Under your window."
I peeked through the curtains. As a déjà vu, Derek stood under the tree that had seen me fall enough times.
"Wait a second. I'll go through the door."
Going down the stairs I felt excitement. My steps took a cheerful gate as I approached him, unable to hide the smile that crept to my lips.
"Nice to see you, Derek," I said.
"Hello, Imogene. I need to speak with your mother. Can you tell her?"
My countenance changed. I straightened and hid my disappointment as best as I could. Of course, this was the new Alpha, not an old friend.
"Wait here," I spat and turned to walk back inside, but then I almost crushed into a slim figure. My mother.
"Wouldn't it be better if you just come inside, Derek Hale?" she said, long arm guiding to the house.
He joined her and I just followed behind.
"But mother-! The walls!" I exclaimed seconds before Derek crossed the archway, to my stupor. "The walls," I muttered.
The aconitum filled walls had not turned Derek into a screaming beast. Why?
"You thought I wouldn't have a way to counter an undesired effect? Take it as a lesson. Never do something you cannot undo," she added with a wicked smile directed at Derek.
They made for the salon and I started to take the stairs to my room when my mother stopped me. "Mimi, stay with us. There is much to learn from it."
I cringed at my mother's display of control and power, a new facet of her I was having troubles adjusting to, but complied.
I sat by my mother's side in the couch, while Derek took place in the armchair. I noticed the absence of my father, but it wasn't unusual to have him flee when the supernatural was involved.
"Tea? Coffee? Chocolate?" my mother proposed.
"No, thank you," Derek said. He was looking as tense as I felt.
I shook my head in negation.
"It will be coffee for me," my mother chipped and left for the kitchen.
An uncomfortable silence fell between us and none of us was brave enough to break it, so we endured it until my mother returned.
Diana Wise sat with the elegance of a noble, perfected by years of training in a 'lady's school' in terms of posture and etiquette. It had been my grandmother who enrolled her at the candid age of five and Diana's stories about it were short and concise, clearly not too fond of those years. Her short hair, a bit masculine, perfectly brushed, added to her natural beauty. At her almost fifty years, she looked no more than forty.
But her allure emanated mainly from her attitude. Always confident, always self-assured, bold and assertive.
She sipped delicately her coffee.
We waited for her to speak first. "So, what brings you here, Derek Hale?"
She made him uncomfortable, but of course, that was her intention. He was no Peter Hale to play this game. He was as far from being Peter Hale as I was from being Diana Wise, but maybe that was for the better.
He hesitated. "The hunters. They are openly breaking the Code."
"And?" my mother said.
"And I demand you to take action," he clamored.
"You know you are not in place to demand anything from us. You turned a teenager boy without any reason. And even if you were in the good position, you know that's not how things work. We act. Point. Nobody order us to do so." She lifted her cup once more to her lips, unabashed.
He clenched his fists, then unclenched them and regained his calm. He spoke softer, "Look, I take responsibility for Isaac. I will stop there. But if you do nothing about them, the Argents, then I will have to act myself. And then it will be in self defense."
My mother left the cup down in the table. Calmly, gently. "Be careful with what you say, Derek Hale. I will not tolerate extortion," her voice was firm. "I won't act against the Argents," she paused. "Not yet."
"Then when? When they have killed us all? They make no difference! They are killing innocent people!"
"I am aware," my mother said and I gasped.
"What?" I exclaimed.
"Silence, Imogene. You are here only to observe, not to judge," my mother admonished.
He leaned forward. "Why don't you tell her? About the way these people work," he got up, enraged. "Gerard Argent is in town and all he has in his mind is revenge. And you are telling me you are going to sit back while he brings war?"
My mother rose from her seat. With her high heels, she was almost eye to eye with him. "Derek Hale, I warn you, if you keep on turning people, I will act against you. And that's a threat."
She then turned and left.
Then Derek left also, slamming the front door behind him.
And as they both left me alone in the big salon I realized that this reencounter with the supernatural life was not at all how I had pictured it in my daydreaming.
Isaac Lahey.
That was the name of the boy Derek had turned. I had squeezed in one side of the room my books and started this little research out of curiosity. He was the age of Scott, indeed a teenager. Not much info circulated on the internet about him. The newspapers were another matter.
Coincidentally, his father had been killed some days ago and now he was being taken into custody as suspect.
No, that information was not disclosed on the newspapers, but my mother had received a call asking her to be his lawyer, which she had refused.
Hours later, Derek knocked on our door with the same request, but with a bit more of justified concern, as it was the first full moon of the boy, hunters were after him and he was innocent of the murder. My mother turned down his request.
This time she didn't even invited him in.
So with all these news in mind I grabbed my backpack and slid out the house through the window of my own room. This time I was a bit closer to landing in my feet, proof that I was doing this far too often.
"Imogene, you know why you must not do this, right?" my mother said, half hidden by the shadows casted by the building. She hugged her thin jacket close to her body. She had not bothered to take a coat. It would be a short exchange.
I nodded. "I think so."
"We must be impartial. Neutral. We cannot take sides."
"I know."
"No, you don't know what you are doing. But you will realize soon," she sighed. The first time she had shown tiredness since she came back from the hospital as Diana Hawker.
Then we both parted ways. She went inside the cozy house, me, towards the danger of the commissary.
The officer at the desk let me in with a smile. She knew I was the daughter of the lawyer and my excuse about retrieving some papers made apparently enough sense for her.
The quietness of the police station was unnerving to the point of sending shivers all over my body. I headed straight for the cell, not wanting to spend an extra second in there.
I could barely see him through the small overture, full of bars, but I discerned that he was sitting down, face towards the exterior window, basking in the full moon.
"Isaac?" I said in a half whimper. "Isaac Lahey?"
His head rose. He looked at me and instantly disenchantment etched in his features. "Who is it?"
"My name is Imogene. I just wanted to… help you?" I was not sure myself.
"How?"
"I think you are innocent. At least, that's what Derek thinks…"
He faced me. "You know Derek?"
"Yes. It's kind of a long story. So, are you innocent?"
He nodded and moved to the little window. His fingers curled around the bars and I could see the claws. "Yes! I had nothing to do with it! You have to believe me!"
"Isaac, your hands…" I looked towards the moon, hidden between grey clouds.
He took some steps back. He was trembling as he looked down his hands. "I-I cannot control it…"
"Look, don't worry. I know what you are and what's happening to you. I just… There are some people that want to hurt you-"
"Hunters!" he interrupted me.
"Yes, but I have a plan." A very stupid one that I just made up, but he didn't need to know that. "I am going to free you now, while you still have some control and then you are going to run as far away as you can, to the forest. To the deepest part you can. You need to be clear on this. You need to go as far away as possible, because after you won't be yourself."
He nodded slowly. "Please…"
"I need you to promise me this, Isaac."
"I promise, I promise!" His eyes were glowing yellow and he closed them tightly.
I ran then. Towards the main office where the cells' keys could be found. I slipped inside and went for the small safe. It needed a code I didn't have, so I just took a heavy paperweight and smashed it.
I listened closely for any noise, hoping I would not have alerted the officer at the entrance, unaware that somebody else was providing distraction.
Determined steps resonated in the corridor and I feared to get caught in such a problematic situation. Think quick, act faster. With quick fingers I took the keys and replaced them for the ones of the locks of my bike in an impulse. Then I hid in a corner of the room, trying to camouflage behind the chairs.
A man wearing officer clothes went to the safe and took my bike's keys, not thinking twice about it. He was semi limping and I held my breath when I saw the trail of blood he was leaving behind. This was no ordinary officer.
Hunter.
I decided I had to be faster than him, so as soon as he left the office, I did the same, but I took a different corridor. My path was longer, but both my legs were fully functional – at least, to the better of their capacity.
I was panting when I met again the cell with Isaac Lahey. With shaky hands I opened the locks, not even bothering to look inside. Had I done so, I would have realized the teenager was no longer a teenager, but a werewolf, and he was no longer in control of himself.
But I didn't, and as a result I was hit by the metal door as he opened it with a superhuman strength. It sent me flying backwards to the end of the room. The commotion clouded my vision and all I could see was black.
In this state of blinded consciousness, I could faintly hear a fight in the room, but it sounded just like the struggling between two men. I blinked fast. Little dots appeared before my eyes, as a broken TV screen.
An alarm blasted and I covered my ears. The sound pierced my skull with an excruciating pain. The men came closer and I opened my eyes as much as I could, trying to discern.
"Stiles?" I mumbled, weak. I felt something warm pouring down my cheek and I understood it was blood.
There was something in the hand of the man and I feared for Stiles – and myself. Where was my backpack? It must have fallen some feet away from me. I groped for it in the ground. The man made a pause, confused by the open cell.
A beast reemerged and pushed him against the desk just by my side. I crawled out of the way, resting against a wall.
The growls of Isaac gave me goose bumps. And he threw the man against the opposite wall. Stiles slid by my side. Now I could see clearly his face.
"Good evening," he said, out of breath, not taking his eyes away from the fight.
"Good evening," I answered.
Isaac broke the arm of the man and smashed his head against the wall, making him lose consciousness. Derek appeared in the room, stepping over a syringe of some kind, which I had just noticed now.
"So you still into everybody's business?" Stiles asked humorously.
"You still Derek's driver?" I replied.
Isaac looked at us, menacing.
Then Derek growled and it didn't matter I had seen werewolves for the past month, it still scared me to the bone.
And it scared Isaac too, because he instantly adopted a submissive position, returning back to his human form.
"How did you do that?" Stiles asked, shocked.
"I am the Alpha."
We had fled the scene, leaving Stiles behind. To our defense, I will say that he also agreed to it. Derek had taken Isaac somewhere he would be safe, no giving more descriptions. Then he returned for me.
Now, we promenaded down Beacon Hill's empty streets, as if we were just enjoying the walk back home after a pleasant date. Far from it, my head ached and dried blood dirtied my hair. Maybe it was the reason he was taking the time to accompany me. I dragged my bicycle by my side; Derek had agreed to take my backpack with a roll of eyes.
"You sure don't know how to keep away from trouble, uh?" he chuckled.
I was not in the mood for jokes, but I humored him anyways. "I guess we have that point in common."
He paused, words stuck. "Thank you…" he finally said. "You didn't have to come, but you did."
I smiled. "You are welcome."
"Although probably you were just being nosy and the idea of something of interest happening lured you there."
This time I laughed. "You start to know me too well."
"Your mother…"
"She was not happy," I sighed. "But I am still not initiated, so she cannot really stop me."
"So you don't share her opinions?"
"I… I don't know much about what is going on right now, to be honest," I confessed. "But if there are innocents in danger, I would prefer to take their part." I frowned. "And the Argents have not proved to be very trustworthy… and you have not really given me any reason to go against you… even although your ways are sometimes a bit rough…" I sniggered. "Remember that night with Dr. Deaton?"
"Remember you busting in the commissary and cleaning the detention room with aconitum?"
"Remember having Stiles almost cut your arm in the vet clinic?"
"Remember going to fight the hunters with a kitchen knife?"
I reflected. "Touché."
He grinned victorious.
Then regained his neutral expression, a bit naturally grumpy. "I need to ask you one more favor."
His tone was soft and I realized I was already going to say yes to whatever question. "Shoot."
"I need you to convince your mother to fight with us."
I looked instantly away. "Derek, I don't know… You already heard her. She can be really stubborn…"
"But maybe if it is you that speaks to her. Make her understand. She doesn't know me like you do. She only sees in me a reflection of my uncle…" He shook his head in rage.
"I… I will try… But I cannot promise better results." I casted my eyes upwards, to the shinning moon. "My mother, she has her own agenda."
He stopped us by grabbing me by the shoulders, head low so he could better look me in the eye. "Just try, ok? You are our best shot now to stop this from turning into a bloodshed."
I snickered. "No pressure, uh?"
He smirked, then patted my head. I winced in pain.
"You should put some ice in there and get a good rest," he sighed. "You think you will make home by yourself? I have a teenager werewolf to attend."
"So that's it?" I asked, amused. "You give me orders and then you leave? I see there's things that never change, Alpha or not."
He chuckled.
Then he walked me home.
I was having a hard time fulfilling my promise to Derek. I went over and over it on my head, trying to measure which would be the perfect approach. How to tell my mother, when, what…
I lost focus on everything else. Words didn't register in my mind when I read, I made mistakes with the prices in the bookstore, I even burnt my microwave when I didn't took off the aluminum from a pre-cooked quiche.
Every possible scenario played out in my head ended in the same result: my mother's rejection of our plead for help.
This was my diatribe, only broken by my mother herself, who apparently dwelled way less in these technicalities. Or she knew how to manage them better.
Either way, she approached me after dinner, while the three of us rested in the salon, hoping to digest the monumental lasagna she had spent the afternoon cooking.
"You don't understand why I don't help Derek Hale," my mother suddenly said, not bothering to take her eyes away from the TV commercials.
My father, in return, buried his head even deeper in his book.
"I…I…" I stuttered. "No, I don't," I finally told her. "I don't see why you wouldn't help to retain balance. Hunters are now killing werewolves without any reason. Not acting, is it not the same than siding with the hunters?"
My mother switched off the TV and faced me. "You talk about balance, but the hunters are keeping the balance here. Without hunters, there would be no population control of the werewolves. Hunters decimate their numbers when they are too many or too strong to be handled. And hunters incite fear so werewolves not only behave, but also don't start turning innocent people, like your friend Derek." She spoke without hate, as always, only reciting facts. "We have talked about this before."
"And we have also talked about how the Code is what keeps the hunters at bay from being crazy assassins. It's this that I don't understand. Why don't we punish that?"
"By Derek becoming an alpha without a built pack, we have created an imbalance. Think of it as a drop that falls in still water. Waves ripple through the surface, one after the other. This imbalance is thus expected to be followed by others. Once we broke the equilibrium, other imperfections appear, and we must be careful about which decisions we take because we risk the whole ecosystem," she explained.
I was left open-mouthed. "Can you please stop speaking in riddles?"
"You are too young to fully understand. We are not warriors. We are judge and jury. You need a crime before a trial," she smiled. "Think about this, if we acted now against the Argents, we would risk turning them into martyrs. Then, you would start a real war. We would also lose our position as guardians of this conflict if we take a step a little too soon. This is what I tried to explain to Derek Hale, but he won't see further away from his shoes."
"He is doing what he thinks best," I tried to defend him, but even to my ears it sounded like empty arguments.
"And I have no doubt about it. But is he choosing the right path? You can explain him all of this when you see him again. As for you, you need to pick up a side soon."
"You always said we side with neither hunters nor supernatural," I rebutted.
"I am not talking about those. You need to choose, Imogene, if you follow Derek Hale or if you are with us."
