Chapter Two

John was happy.

Tara raised an eyebrow as her boss entered the station with a content smile on his face, his eyes sparkling in a way she hadn't seen since Stiles had stopped calling five years previous.

The girl had left town after a horrible fight with Scott McCall and hadn't returned and when she stopped calling they'd all assumed she was dead. It had taken Tara and half of the BHPD to stop their boss from falling back into the bottle. They had succeeded but getting him to smile nowadays was like pulling teeth, unless you were Melissa McCall, his wife. Therefore, she felt that it was only right for her to be curious.

"Sir?"

He glanced at her and grinned. "She's alive, Tara. My baby girl is coming home."

Something warmed in the woman's chest at his words and she grinned back at him, relief coursing through her veins. She, along with most of the deputies at the station had watched the girl grow up and she was like a niece to them. Her death had killed them, so hearing that she was alive…it was like a weight had been lifted off their chests.

"When is she coming?"

"Her and a few friends going to be moving into Mrs. Langston's old home in two weeks. She just called to let me know they were coming…and to ensure that I've been keeping to the diet she set for me."

Tara snickered. "Like anyone would go against it."

He sighed, but his eyes danced with far too much happiness to be upset.

"She's coming home, Tara. She's coming home."

"Harleen isn't my real name."

Joker hummed softly, running a callous hand down her back as sweat cooled their bodies. She loved when he was like this, his chaos calmed to a gentle lull that only she got to see.

"Joker isn't mine." He responded and she smiled, curling closer to him.

"I never woulda guessed." She responded giggling when he shot her a fond, yet exasperated look.

"Tell me your name." He ordered and she flushed at how the order resonated deep inside of her.

"Mieczysława. Mieczysława Stilinski."

He stared at her for a moment. "You're polish."

Her blush darkened and she looked away. "I am."

"Mieczysława," He purred and she gasped as his breath ghosted across her throat. "My name is Alexander. Alexander Hale."

Her head shot up. "Any relation to Derek Hale?"

He raised an eyebrow in a move that told her he couldn't not be related to Derek. "You know my nephew?"

"Yes."

He let out a low snarl, hearing the pain in her voice, rolling so that he was on top of her.

"You're mine." He growled and she mewled, back arching as she tried to press herself closer to him.

"Always, puddin'. Always."

Harley sighed softly as they passed the 'Welcome to Beacon Hills' sign, a soft giggle leaving her as she saw the adjustments made to the sign.

"Aunt Harley, are you alright?" She glanced at Zoe with a small smile and nodded. She'd grown close to the little girl since Deadshot had introduced them and she couldn't help but feel those old nurturing instincts flooding back every time the kid was near her. She talked about babies with her puddin' but they'd never been able to make good on it. She wanted her own pups.

"Where is this house again, Harls?" Rick asked and she rolled her eyes.

"Let me drive."

"No!" They all responded quickly, alarmed and she pouted.

"Fine! It's the big house next to one with the police cruiser in the driveway."

"We live next door to the sheriff?!" June gasped and Harley grinned at them, as they pulled up in the drive way to find, said sheriff waiting for them. The second the car was parked, she raced out the door and tackled him into a hug.

"DADDY!"

He caught her with practiced eased, his arms strong and sure as they embraced her and for the first time in weeks, she felt like she could exhale.

"Stiles! I missed you, baby girl."

She sniffled, pulling back with a watery grin, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I missed you too, daddy." She looked back at her friends.

"These are my friends. Floyd, George, June, Rick, Waylon, and Tatsu." She picked up Zoe easily. "And this is Floyd's daughter, Zoe. Isn't she just the cutest?!"

John stared at his daughter's friends with a raised eyebrow, not even batting an eyebrow at the one that looked like a giant crocodile. He sighed.

"You couldn't just make normal friends could you? C'mon inside. You owe me an explanation for the five years of radio silence. The rest of you, I hope you enjoy your stay in Beacon Hills."

The former criminals nodded, staring at their friend stunned, all except Flag who smiled slightly and turned to their new house.

Somehow he had the feeling that Beacon Hills could become a home to all of them.

John Stilinski was not a religious man.

He'd never been the type to go to church regularly or pray faithfully, however as he held his baby girl in his arms, he felt like he should fall to his knees and thank God for her return.

She shifted, curling closer to him, and he found himself wondering just what had happened to he while she was away.

She was thin, not dangerously so, but she was far too light for someone her age. Her hair was no longer his wife's mahogany, instead it was a pale platinum bond, almost white in color, pulled back into a ponytail, where her blue and pink tips mixed. Most importantly was the collage of tattoos marring her pale skin, almost hiding the unfamiliar too-light scars from his keen gaze.

His baby had changed.

Taking a seat in his favorite recliner, cradling her in his lap.

"Talk to me, sweetie. What happened?"

She looked up at him, flecks of green swirling in the formerly amber eyes.

"I changed my name. Used my middle name and mama's maiden name. Took my classes online and managed to get my associates then powered through my doctorate's. I didn't mean to lose contact, daddy." She shivered, then a dangerous smile crossed her lips, even as her eyes softened.

"I did my residency at Arkham and I fell in love. He…oh, he was so beautiful. So broken." A tear slid down her cheek.

"He was mine."

John's heart clenched painfully in his chest, warring with his confusion and he found himself hoping that his daughter hadn't suffered through the same pain that he had. The loss of a spouse was one of the worst things to deal with in life and looking in her eyes he knew his hopes were in vain.

She was using past tense.

Whoever He was…he was dead.

"Where've you been?"

"Prison."

He blinked and looked at her hoping she was joking, but she was grinning brightly as if it was something to be proud of.

"Prison." He deadpanned.

And she nodded vigorously, her eyes lighting up.

"Yep. Belle Reve. It's the worst prison in the country. Mandy pulled us out to use us for her own needs, then Witchy killed her." Something manic sharpened her smile. "Killed her dead. Ricky got us all pardoned."

He stared at her, taking in the mania in her eyes and knew that whatever she'd done in the past to earn a prison sentence wasn't something he should know. She'd always been that way, manic bordering on sociopathic and seeing her be herself, without all the masks she tended to wear…it was relieving. It shouldn't have been but it was and he knew that The Pack was in for a big surprise if they thought she was gonna come crawling back to them.

A very big surprise.

TBC…