A/N: Wow, talk about a response to that last chapter! I was so happy to hear from the lot of you. A lot of you seem to be expressing some Lydia concerns, so let me offer the best explanation I can for now.
1. No, Lydia will not be a mean character. I quite like the way her character has evolved, so I'm keeping it as canon as possible.
2. Unfortunately for you Stydia folks, this story is not where you'll find it. My OC will be inserted at key points to alter that, but that doesn't mean that Stiles' and Lydia's dynamic will be entirely altered. They'll stay close, and sometimes complicated, friends. We'll have to see where the rest of 3B goes to discern that!
Also! I took to rewatching the entire series to get my timelines correct and realized I made an oops with the lacrosse locker room scene, considering they're supposed to be running track now. I like the way that scene ended up so I'm not going back and changing it, instead I offer a campy explanation for it in this chapter.
Bear in mind, 3A happens so fast that it seems to only take a few weeks. In reality its about two months so I'm doing to best to reasonably spread out that timeline. This chapter happens collectively over the second, third, and a bit of the fourth week of school.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Teen Wolf, its characters, or any affiliated entities. I maintain artistic license of my original character(s).
"Come to my place at nine and plan to stay the night. I like to cuddle," Danny smirked, shutting his gym locker.
Stiles looked between Danny and Scott in shock, "That was so sweet, are you kidding?"
"Yes," he deadpanned, "I'm kidding!"
"You know, you don't toy with a guys emotions like that, Danny. It's not attractive, alright?"
"Mr. Lahey, happy to have you back. Not happy that you're late," Coach scolded as Issac brushed past into the locker room.
"Sorry, Coach." It was the best he had to offer considering the new threat of the Alpha pack was winning out in terms of importance.
"Alright ya yahoos, listen up. Our little 'friendship' scrimage with the Beavers last week was so profoundly disappointing I'm suddenly reconsidering my already questionable dedication to being a high school coach. We set up that match to make sure our teams didn't turn into a bunch of cream puffs over the summer, and to be honest I'm no longer sure if this is a locker room or a damn pastry shop! That being said, I'll remind you all cross country is not optional for lacrosse players. I don't need you turning into a bunch of fat-asses in the off season so...work on that."
Stiles grumbled at Danny's sarcasm towards his plight while he laced up his sneakers.
"Danny was just joking, dude. Besides, didn't he tell you last year you're not his type?"
"Scott, do you not realize that my life is at least 90% in danger every second? I mean, how many more teen virgins could Beacon Hills have stockpiled, huh?"
"I'm sure you're just over thinking it, and we don't even know that this guy is dead yet, let alone if he was a virgin."
"It's called an archetype, Scott. A pattern, a series of qualifying features that each murder will always go after. People like this don't just pick a different poison for no reason. There's got to be something, some kind of connecting thread and right now all we've got is that the first three were virgins."
"You really need to stop reading your dad's case files."
"Well maybe he should stop falling asleep on the kitchen table with them open." Stiles knew it rang at least somewhat true though. Growing up in a squad car had taught him a handful of things, the most useful of which being finding the pattern. Sarcasm and his analytical mind were the only super powers he had in a town where it felt like every other person wasn't as they seemed. "Or, maybe if there wasn't someone always trying to kill us I wouldn't have to find a reason why."
oOo
"Tell me what I can do to help, Emmalyn. You've been coming in this entire week but you've barely said two words. What do you need for me?"
Chewing at the inside of her cheek and scratching her forearm, Emmalyn thought back to her encounter with Stiles the previous week.
"Em? Did – did you hear anything I just said?"
She stood there staring at her feet for a moment while trying to reign in her thoughts. What was she doing? One second she was avoiding them entirely, the next she was burying a monumental hatchet without even a second thought. Could she trust him, believe that only a colossal misunderstanding had befallen both him and Scott? If she let them back in, could she keep her skeletons from toppling out of the closet?
"What can you do?" she questioned, not entirely sure of the answer herself.
"Anything, Em. Whatever you need from me I'll do it, just – help me out. I'm seriously trying my best here, but I don't know what to do."
"Time."
"Time?"
She nodded curtly to Ms. Morrell before gathering her books and leaving for English.
"Emmalyn?" the older woman called out to her just as she reached the door. "I know these things can take time, but don't let the time that you have run out."
Therapists, or in this case councilor, always seemed to have a knack for recognizing the intent behind things. Emmalyn was already uncomfortable in being there, and Ms. Morrell's ability to see things she didn't want her to made her skin crawl.
oOo
As the days passed, what Ms. Morrell had said to her that day weighed heavier on her shoulders. She knew she was being cautious, but was she sealing herself off? It was a question of comfort zones, more specifically where the edge of Emmalyn's lied. She had returned to Beacon Hills High without nearly as much turbulence as expected, given the minor rough patch her first day, she even occasionally spoke to Morrell about herself, something years worth of state funded therapy had failed to yield. In the mornings she would nod to Stiles as she took her seat in Coach's class, one time she'd even smiled. It was a tight lipped, twitch of a smile, but it was real. In the hallway she would sometimes wave gently to him and Scott as she passed. The two boys always seemed terribly preoccupied outside of class, but there wasn't a single passing glance or gesture that he missed.
Her days were filled with tiny victories, overcoming her social anxiety in miniscule steps usually taking the forefront of improvement. She had her moments, some worse than others, but the brighter ones were slowly starting to win out. For the first time in years Emmalyn felt like she was winning, like she was finally in control of more than just her body. The tiny waves of confidence bubbled under her skin, waning her fear of the unknown.
She was earlier than usual to Ms. Blake's class that day, and she felt an unfamiliar tickle at the base of her spine. It was her subconscious pushing her, demanding she take more responsibility for her life, so she did. Against all better judgment she walked straight past her usual seat by the door and headed for an empty one in the middle of the room. A tingle rose on the nape of her neck in anticipation while she waited for the rest of her classmates to arrive. She sat there patiently, watching namely for one particularly lanky and graceless boy. In all reality, she didn't even have to be looking to know he had gotten to class considering Stiles nearly fell face first over her old desk when he saw her sitting in front of his.
"Uh – hey, Em...what – what are you?"
Her breath hitched with the sudden realization she hadn't anticipated a response from him, feeling inklings of regret seeping into her pores as she floundered for an answer.
"Just trying to get closer." Stiles' head cocked back in shock at her answer and Emmalyn's cheeks lit up a fierce shade of red when she heard her own words fall from her mouth. "To the board," she tried to recover, "I mean, be-because I usually sit by the door. I...it's hard to see the notes."
She chewed on her lip as Stiles' nodded to her more reasonable explanation, unceremoniously dropping himself into his desk while she hid her new shade of crimson behind her hands.
When Ms. Blake arrived the class continued their discussion on 'Heart of Darkness', the first literature assignment of the semester. Stiles' hearing faded in and out during the lecture, his mind preoccupied with a myriad of distractions. After saving Boyd and Cora and dealing with the loss of Erica, Deucalion had delivered his ultimatum to Derek, a senior as well as the band teacher had been sacrificed, and Mr. Harris was missing, presumably the third and final sacrifice of the 'warrior' trio. Then there was Emmalyn, his entirely human problem. He laughed to himself, wondering when fighting werewolves and a Darach became more normal to him than dealing with regular people. He caught himself a couple times half way to tapping her shoulder, restraining himself from invading her space. She had asked for time, he owed her that much.
Come on, focus, you know the pattern. Figure out what happens next.
He knew in the back of his mind though that he couldn't. While they had relative data points, Lydia had been right when she'd said they couldn't discern a pattern from a single circumstance. The next attack would be impossible to predict until the nature of it became more prevalent, he knew that even with their best efforts, that still meant the best they could do was save two of three in each set. One would always have to die in order to reveal which group was being targeted. The idea of necessary death churned his stomach.
"So," Ms. Blake's voice rang clear through his thought process, "who can tell me a little bit about madness and why it's a running theme throughout the book?" He watched her scan through the classroom looking for a volunteer. "Emmalyn, you seem like you're front and center ready to participate. How are you interpreting the theme of madness?"
Stiles could see her shrink down into her seat, gripping the edges of it so hard that her knuckles turned white. He knew she hadn't meant for this to happen, not once in the last month had she taken part in a class discussion.
"Emmalyn?" Ms. Blake asked again, hoping to garner a response. Before he even registered the words coming from his mouth he was spitting out an excuse to the expectant teacher.
"She can't talk, she's uh...she's got laryngitis. Yup, no talking. Doc's orders." She looked at him quizzically, he wasn't the only one to notice her lack of social prowess. "Well, uh...that's why she's sitting over here, so I can – give the answers for..her..?"
Ms. Blake didn't seem to trust the stammering teen, "Alright then, Stiles, what does she have to say about madness?"
He twisted his pencil between his fingers, brows pressed together firmly as he puzzled together a theory. He couldn't help but blame his habit of never thinking things entirely through.
After a long, silent moment, he finally offered a reply. "It's relative."
"In what way?"
"Well, Marlow's always been told how crazy Kurt is, but the more he sees him he kind of feels bad for the guy, kind of like he's a victim of circumstance. Like maybe – maybe the Company wasn't showing the whole picture."
Her eyebrows raised in response, a surprised smile tracing her lips, "That's actually a perfect description, Stiles. Glad to see you're doing the reading."
He could see Emmalyn's shoulders loosen as Ms. Blake returned to the board. Thinking back to the conversation they'd had more than two weeks ago now, something crossed his mind that hadn't before.
She had felt so small in his arms.
Sure, she'd always been shorter than him, but he felt like she might actually break if he squeezed to hard. Emmalyn had literally fallen to pieces right in front of him, the only time he'd ever seen her cry before was when they were kids and his mom had died. She had never been the quiet one, yet here she was, not even able to manage eye contact with Ms. Blake. He knew now of course that she had been bullied in the beginning of high school, so much so that she even transferred, but to what extent? How bad had it really been? The girl sitting in front of him now was a fragile shadow of the vivacious and carefree one he and Scott had grown up with, and it left him questioning.
What had really happened?
FUN FACTS:
1. In the episode 'Battlefield' of season two, the championship game is against the Beavers, the team mentioned in the beginning of
the chapter!
2. All dialogue about 'Heart of Darkness' is actually about the real book! I combed through Spark Notes, kind of always figuring there was an alterior motive behind Jennifer teaching about that book, and I was right! So, I used the theme of madness as a little plot device, looking back and referencing how she never really thought she was crazy, it was all relative ;)
Well that's the chapter for you! Let me know what you all think. You know the drill, praise, critique, correct me! Let me know what you liked and what you're excited to see!
