Chapter Three
The thing is, he'd regretted the words the moment he'd said them.
The day he'd met Mieczysława Stilinski had been one of the most important days of his life. She had been his first friend when he and his parents had moved to Beacon Hills. They'd met the day his family had moved into town.
Her mother, Claudia, had been curious about who had moved in on their street and had decided to come over to welcome them. She brought with her warm smiles, fresh cookies, and, most importantly, Stiles. Back then, she'd still been going by Mischief. She'd been every bit the tomboy her mom had introduced her as, clad in a star wars t-shirt, dirty khakis, and a pair of red converse sneakers. Her hair, tied in twin tails, should have thrown off the look but at the base of each pigtail were millennium falcon hair bows. She'd run up to him and simply stared for a moment. Then with all the self-importance she could muster, had told him that he was her new best friend.
He hadn't argued. Instead, he'd felt relieved. He had never had a friend before in their old town. He'd told her as such. Her response had stuck with him for years after that day.
"No? Well, Scotty, now ya got me."
The next day, she'd punched Jackson in the sandbox for stealing his inhaler. He'd asked her if she was a princess, awed by everything about her, and watched as she blushed, covering her embarrassment by looking away with a stubborn pout.
They'd been five.
From there on, they'd been inseparable.
Everything was Scott & Stiles. So much so that for a while, their parents had very much believed they would one day end up becoming so much more. Stiles had been the person he turned to when his parents began to argue more. Had stayed with him throughout his dad leaving them, a steady chaotic presence in the turmoil. Had comforted him through his parents' divorce. Even through the diagnosis that his asthma was getting worse.
Likewise, he'd been there when she was diagnosed with ADHD. When her mom began to behave strangely and she'd started coming to school with new bruises that he knew hadn't occurred because of her clumsiness no matter how much she tried to say otherwise.
He was there when she found out her mother was dying. When she'd shaved her head because her mother had had to do so as well. Had been there when she'd come home numb and dry-eyed because her mother was gone. Had been there when Mischief had become Stiles, her words sharper, her eyes colder, and her guard high enough that it was almost impenetrable.
Then high school happened and suddenly it wasn't just them anymore.
It wasn't just Scott and Stiles anymore.
No.
It was werewolves and hunters.
Murders, torture, fear.
Conspiracies.
It was him and Allison, and Isaac.
It was Stiles, broken and haunted, sharp edges ground against until they were no longer just defensive measures but deadly weapons.
It was pain and terror.
Betrayal and grief.
Everything had changed and so had they.
Perhaps… perhaps that was what had made it so easy to believe Theo.
After all, he knew Stiles. Knew her better than anyone he'd ever met. He had seen just what she was willing to do to protect what was hers and when he'd heard that Donovan had threatened Noah well he'd assumed…
Her expression when he didn't believe her had haunted him since those faithful words had left him.
Those words had ended a friendship almost a decade long.
He'd never regretted anything more than he regretted them. Especially when she left shortly after.
"Maybe...maybe you should just stay away from the pack for a little while."
There had been so much in the sentence. So much unspoken, but the devastation and anger in her eyes, the vivid betrayal and resignation, told him that she had heard it all.
She was gone two days later, only hours after Theo and the dread doctors had been taken care of.
He found out three weeks after that.
The sheriff had told him, blue eyes cold and accusing.
Things had become so tense and he just tried to continue living.
He and Kira got back together. Isaac and Jackson came back bringing Derek, Ethan, and Danny in their wake. The pack grew stronger, but the place where Stiles should be was glaringly obvious every time it took "just a bit longer" to find out what the latest monster of the week was and how to defeat it. When things grew tense and there was no sarcastic or funny remark to break the tension. When plans had to be revamped because "no, that wouldn't work."
Her absence was too noticeable to all the older members of the pack, and even the younger ones knew something was off.
When she'd gone missing, a few years previous he'd been one of the first to volunteer, Derek right behind him with grief and guilt in his eyes.
They'd hoped if they found her they could convince her to come home.
They found nothing.
Of course, they should've known better.
A tiny smile crossed his lips as he entered the packhouse to find the rest of his pack waiting, his fellow Alpha watching him curiously.
"Scott?" the man asked and his smile widened.
"They found her. Or rather she found us, as usual." The older members' eyes widened and one even gasped.
"She's coming home."
*/*
Beacon Hills.
Home, sweet home.
Ten years had passed since she'd stepped foot in this town and yet it seemed almost unchanged. It was so...different from the bustling smog of Gotham that it made her both homesick and nostalgic all at once. Especially when a certain presence reared its head in her mind.
"Back where it all began, Kit. I wonder how your mate would have fared in our chaos?"
Her lips twitched and she snorted inelegantly. "Rather how would Beacon Hills have coped with him."
The voice chuckled, a low roiling laugh not dissimilar to a boom of thunder. "Indeed."
Beside her, Floyd shuddered then placed a hand on her arm to bring her back to the present.
"Where are we going, Harls?"
"Turn here." Rick did as she bid, following her directions until they pulled up in front of a police station.
"Uh...are you sure this is where we should be?" June asked softly and the blonde nodded, already halfway out of her seat belt.
"There's someone here I have to see. Then we can go to our house. Or Rick can take you all home and I'll meet you later."
Sudden understanding flashed in their leader's eyes. "Oh. We'll head to the house. Chato, stay with her."
The man blinked. "Me? Why do I have to stay with her?"
"I'd send Floyd, but I doubt he'd leave his daughter unattended in a new place unless Harley was babysitting."
Sighing, Diablo nodded and followed the woman out of the car, his shoulders tensing as she waltzed right into the damn police station. As they entered the building, a tall blond man wearing a sheriff's badge was exiting. Upon seeing him, Harley's eyes lit up and a wide smile crossed her lips.
She bolted, lunging at the man.
He reached out ready to stop her, then her voice reached his ears stopping him dead in his tracks, the sheriff catching the blond with little more than a soft grunt.
"DADDY!"
What the actual fuck?
*/*
"He's waking up!"
A quiet growl left him as an unfamiliar voice sounded nearby, toxic green-blue eyes flying open to glare at the offender, an unnamed goon.
Said goon flinched, ducking his head.
"M-Mr. J-Joker, sir. Y-you're awake."
"Obviously." He drawled, and the man flinched again.
Boring.
"Harley!" He called, remembering his lover had been freed from her awful prison, so she should be here.
"M-Ms. Harley i-isn't here, Sir."
His gaze hardened. "What?" He asked silkily, voice a deadly calm.
The man beside him began to tremble fear ratcheting up into pure terror.
"N-no one has seen her since your chopper went d-down."
"Find. Her." His eyes flashed a vivid bloody vermillion, his rage exploding at the idiot's words. "NOW!"
A low terrified sound left the goon who fled quickly, likely well aware of what happened to those that sparked his temper. Snarling, in his wake, furious kaleidoscope eyes, narrowed wondering where exactly his queen had gone.
And why.