Chapter Two
He would never say it out loud, but days like this made it so hard to be happy. Staring at the picture on his desk, he tried his hardest to listen to his son-in-law ramble about his wife's pregnancy, his own heart aching.
Why did it always have to be Stiles?
His precious baby girl had left Beacon Hills heartbroken and shattered, some of which could be attributed to the young man in front of him and for the first five years she had kept in contact. She told him about changing her name, but not what she had changed it to, about starting school and accelerating through her coursework with no one to force her to sleep or socialize like a normal human. She told him about getting her degree and then her doctorate, opting out of the ceremony, even though she'd been asked to give a speech. Then, only a few months after graduating, she'd gone dark.
No phone calls.
No emails.
No texts.
Nothing.
He hadn't heard from her since.
It hurt more than anything, especially when all of his efforts to find her had turned up empty. What was worse was the year prior when he'd finally been forced to pronounce her dead in absentia.
Only Melissa's and, surprisingly, Peter Hale's companionship had stopped him from joining the rest of his family in the afterlife.
From raging against the world that had taken both his wife and their daughter from him.
Yet, it didn't make this conversation any less painful.
Scott had been like a son to him for as long as he had known the kid. He loved him nearly as much as he'd loved Stiles, but-
But Scott was still here. He'd been able to continue watching Scott grow. Had been at his wedding. Hell, here he was listening as the boy expressed excitement over his growing family and while he was happy for him, the sharp tinge of pain and jealousy the situation sent through him was hard to ignore.
After all, he would never be able to see Stiles in the same scenarios.
He would never listen to her ramble about some boy or girl that had managed to capture her attention. Never get to threaten them into treating his baby girl right.
He wouldn't get to walk her down the isle, or listen to her stress over wedding arrangements or dresses.
He...He'd never get to see her teary eyed and glowing as she announced his first grandchild, whether it be through birth or adoption.
It made him feel so guilty.
Gods, did it make him feel guilty.
Scott was a good kid, and Melissa more than deserved to watch her son be happy, but he couldn't help but wish that Stiles had been given the same chance.
A hand landed on his shoulder, drawing him from his thoughts and he looked up at Scott, tired blue meeting sad chocolate.
"I miss her too." The boy confessed softly. His dark eyes flitting to the picture he'd been staring at.
When Scott had told him about his and Stiles argument when Stiles first left, he'd been furious, yet he'd understood. More than anyone, he knew how vicious Stiles could be when someone she loved was threatened, after all he was the same way. However, he also knew how cunning she could be. If she had really killed Donovan, they'd have never been able to link her to it.
Moreover, he sure as hell didn't trust Theo, who set every one of his hard earned instincts on end.
Still he'd held a grudge for a bit, at least until Stiles had called him for the first time after leaving.
Yet it had taken a long time for him to trust Scott again. Only when he'd seen the way the boy mourned when Stiles had been declared dead, had he finally accepted that the kid had been a kid and made a stupid choice. It hadn't hurt any less, but at least he knew the kid still cared.
"I asked Kira if I could name our daughter Mischa. Stiles would kill me if I gave her her first name, but...when we were younger and we used to talk about getting married if no one else would marry us, she said she wanted to name our daughter that. Said it was pretty and not impossible."
Noah smiled, slightly, but before he could answer, his phone rang.
"Sheriff Stilinski speaking."
The other side of the line was quiet for a moment, then a soft voice sounded and his eyes widened.
"Dad,"
"S-Stiles?"
Scott stilled, and for a moment he could swear the boy wasn't even breathing.
Stiles was silent, then. "I'm so sorry, Dad...A lot has happened."
"I thought you were dead, Kiddo. God, where the hell have you been?"
A soft, breathy laugh sounded, yet something was...off. "Boy, have I got a doozy of a story for ya. It's better to tell you in person though."
"You mean-" His heart raced, and he could see a smile twitching at the corner of Scott's lips.
"I'm coming home."
He was sobbing in relief the moment the phone call ended and yet if anyone peeked into his office, no one would be able to deny the pure joy in the grin on his face.
After ten long years, his little girl was coming home...and something in him screamed that they were all in for a hell of a surprise.
Ah well, she wouldn't be Stiles without a little chaos.
*/*
"Has anyone spoken to her?"
As the grunt in front of him shook his head, he felt the first beginnings of panic stirring in his gut. After managing to save their boss from the wreckage of the plane, they had brought him back to their base to treat his wounds and yet none of them had managed to get in contact with her.
Worse, she had yet to return to Gotham, meaning she had no idea that their Boss was still alive.
It was a horrifying thought.
He was one of the few people that had managed to work for Joker since the very beginning, and as such he was also the only other than the boss who knew just how much of the woman's madness was held at bay by Joker.
Without him, their Queen was far more ruthless and terrifying than anyone he'd ever met. Worse, she went until she physically couldn't anymore then somehow by sheer force of will tried to continue anyway.
Joker was much the same, vicious without his queen, his temper volatile and deadly without her to soothe it (or provoke it, depending on her mood). If he woke and found out she was gone, he doubted many of the people present would survive.
"Find her," He ordered. "Now."
The group before him shared a look, then nodded and left to do as he bid. Heaving a sigh, he went back to tending to his Boss, hoping beyond hope that the man stayed unconscious until his Queen was found.
He doubted it.
*/*
"Tell me something strange."
"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. "Polish?"
She nodded, and a sultry smirk crossed his lips.
"Mieczysława," He purred and she gasped as his breath ghosted across her throat.
Holy hell, she never knew her name could sound like that.
"My name is Alexander. Alexander Hale."
Her head shot up, haze fading for a moment. "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 once more.
"You're mine." He growled, shifting inside her and she mewled, back arching as she tried to press herself closer to him.
"Always, puddin'. Always."
Waking hurt.
Shivering, she felt her eyes burn at the lack of warmth beside her, heart aching as it tried to acclimate to the loss.
She should be used to this, after all it had been almost three weeks, and before they'd been separated for over two years and yet, even as she lay in the hotel room she'd rented for the night, she couldn't stop herself from waking and expecting him to be beside her.
It was painful in a way she hadn't felt in years.
A way she had hoped to never to feel again, and yet somehow worse because this time it was permanent.
This time she hadn't been left behind because of fear, but because the person holding her heart had been stolen.
It made her want to bring Waller back and kill her again.
And again.
And again.
She didn't.
Instead she buried the feeling and began to dress, forcing a smile onto her lips as she packed her stuff back into the duffle.
A knock sounded as she finished.
"Hey Harles, are you almost ready? June says we should make it to Beacon Hill in about three hours." Rick called through the door.
Checking to see if she had left anything behind, she opened the door to find the man in the hall.
"Well?" She replied, walking towards the large SUV they had bought for this trip. "We're waiting on you now, boss-man."
He snorted, but followed her and she couldn't help but marvel at how much calmer and less uptight he was without Waller's claws digging into him and with June safe.
Would he survive Beacon Hills?
Probably.
Hopefully.
She frowned.
"You have a gun, right?" She asked and he nodded, confused.
"Always."
She smiled.
Yep, he'd be fine.
*/*
"Harley," June asked hesitantly as they passed the Beacon Hills sign, the numerous crossed out population numbers making her wary.
The other woman blinked, having been immersed in a conversation with Deadshot's daughter, Zoe.
"Yesss?"
"What kind of town is Beacon Hills exactly?"
Her friend smiled, eyes flashing almost too quick for her to notice. Madness, warmth and longing all resonated in her voice as she responded.
"Home."