Chapter 3

Author's note

The three stories ("The Sun", "The Moon" and "The Truth") are going to merge with the timeline of "Good things come to those who wait", and that's when "The Sun" and "The Moon" will be completed. I might just add chapters, out of sync with the timeline, like Melissa's memories surfacing at random times (meaning if I get a flash of inspiration I can't resist). "The Truth" might run along "Good things…" if I feel the need to write more of Melissa's POV.

It's been weeks and Chris Argent hasn't been around. I know I should be glad, because it means he's not hurt. I talked to the Stiles Sr. and he assures me that Chris is alive and kicking. Alive and killing to be more accurate.

"I wish we could do more," I say when all three of us are having dinner.

"That's what I keep telling him," Natalie says pointing at her boyfriend.

My friend does a complicated shrug with an expression he must have borrowed from his son. I miss Stiles. I never thought I'd miss that pest!

"Fine! I'll talk to him," he gives up and Natalie kisses him.

They are just perfect together. Like they've always been together. Maybe in another life. I'm ashamed of my first reaction at hearing that he was dating her. I felt not as much jealous as offended. He's decided to start dating and hasn't asked me out? I'm even more ashamed that my second thought was about Peter.

"He will probably hate the idea," I say not allowing my mind to drift.

Chris Argent got used to being alone. I can see that every time he shows up, bruised, battered and broken. And all his gratitude is concentrated in the same few words "Thank you, Mrs. McCall" as if anything more would mean that I'm his friend not just a temporarily useful ally.

I got a bad feeling the other day. Really, really bad. Like when Rafe killed for the first time. Like the night Scott got bitten.

It's a bad night. I have no idea what happens. It's so creepy… it's like someone's walking around on my grave. I call Scott, and I get some grumbled reassurance that he's ok, and his friends are ok, they're not engaged in any battle with a dark entity. I believe him. It's good to hear his "5 more minutes, mom!" voice I used to hear when I had to wake him up early. I call Isaac, and apparently it's morning there, and after I reassure him that I'm fine, he shares some funny stories about life in the French countryside.

I'd call the sheriff but he would freak out, and Natalie would freak out and if there was anything wrong with them, they'd be the ones calling me.

I wonder if it's about Peter. The time he and Scott fought, I had collapsed. It was a good thing I was on call, because my colleagues took care of me. A few days later, Stiles had been the one to describe to me the fight between Scott and Peter, and he had been the one to tell me that Peter was again a resident of Eichen House. No one else thought I needed to know about Peter. Stiles just likes talking to me. He likes talking in general, and he feels safe with me, so I get to hear about all sort of things Scott wouldn't tell me.

Something is wrong. I feel like a part of me is going numb and I have no idea what's going on. I'm thinking back at the time the Nogitsune was in town, and I hadn't felt it. Thinking back at the times this happened to me… I realize that I only get these intuitions when someone close to me is in danger. And I checked on everyone, except my friend. But somehow, I have to accept it's not about him. He's been in some dire situations before and I never got these glimpses of wrongness. There is no one else close to me.

Maybe I'm imagining things.

And after the rough night… the next day I get a surprising visit. Chris Argent shows up with a bunch of flowers before my lunch break and wants to talk to me. He acts all friendly which is highly suspicious, but I play along.

We're walking to the diner round the corner, and although I just kissed him on the cheek and I'm holding his arm, he has never felt farther from me.

He's trying to sound reassuring when he tells me about the pack of werewolves that showed up and about the fact that as Scott's mother I might be in danger. But I am actually relieved to hear the news. That must have been the reason for last night's trepidations.

I'm more than a little surprised that he offers to teach me about the supernatural world and how to defend myself. I've been racking my brains how to approach him about this and not look like I'm trying to spend time with him. I'm neither blind, nor dead, so yeah, I have to accept that I find him attractive as hell. I listen to him attentively.

"I have some books for you, to help you identify them. And I want to teach you some tricks to defend yourself. I trust you to be smart enough to realize that you are not able to take them on by yourself. And that you will call me as soon as you think you're in danger.

What kind of people did he have to deal with? Who the hell would take on a werewolf after a few self-defense lessons?!

"Of course I won't think I can kill a werewolf!" I assure him.

"And you will call me as soon as you think you're in danger, yes?"

I'm sure I rolled my eyes like Scott when he said that. Of course I'd call him!

"If I'm in danger, I'll call you."

"Melissa!"

His tone is one of cool command. A thrill goes through me at the way he just used my name. It felt like a whip on bare skin. I think I just stopped breathing and my brain is trying to make sense of this.

"You won't wait to be in danger to call me! If you as much as think something's wrong, you call me!"

I want to answer him, but I'm not sure what just happened.

"You can call the Sheriff if you prefer. More likely you will put him in danger and he will still end up calling me. He has… constraints in what he can do," he says.

"And you don't."

I said it just to make it seem like I'm present and not day dreaming about him using my name more often. It sounded so damn good. I guess he couldn't have said "Mrs. McCall!" and make it sound like he scolded an errant schoolgirl.

"I have a Code."

I remember. All three of us tied, waiting for rescue or death. But I can't talk at the moment, so it's better to make him talk while I recover.

"Can you tell me?"

I listen to him, and my heart bleeds for him. His voice doesn't betray any pain. Just resolve, hard and unyielding. I hold his hands and I wish I can help him because I fear that he has hardened himself so much against the pain, he has no flexibility left and he will break. Aloud, I just ask for a chance to help his fight.

My fear is confirmed on route to our first training session. I dare to ask him if training me won't remind him of training his daughter. His answers are so cold and controlled I feel like crying for him. Now I see what Isaac must have seen.

Scott can take physical pain away through touching. I touch him, hoping I can make his emotional pain more bearable.

Aaaaand only a few minutes later all my good intentions seem a joke, because as soon as the training starts all I can think about is his body. His lean, strong body, vibrant and warm, pressed against me at random moments during the lesson. His breath on my skin just before I get thrown to the ground. I haven't been in such intimate contact with a man in a long time. I deny myself the memory of the last man who got so close to me. Not a man. A monster. Not intimacy. A madness that made me so disgusted with myself I never allowed anyone else close. I still feel sullied by the monster's touch. I feel unworthy to be touched by this man I see as a knight of the light.

After a while, my embarrassing arousal is tempered by the very physical pain and very real embarrassment. Why did I expect him to start with something less aggressive? Some cardio or some yard work whatever the hell they did in Karate Kid.

Maybe he wants to punish me for daring to pick at a wound that hadn't completely healed, but I'm really getting my ass handed to me. Either that, or I really suck at fighting.

"Again?" I ask, trying not to let him notice just how much I want to stop.

I'm discreetly rubbing my ass from the last fall, trying not to think of the bruise that's going to remind me of this lesson every time I sit down for a week when he seems to relent.

"No, I think it's enough for this part. You're going to need different clothes next time."

My smile of relief froze at his last words. I look him, I take in the way he's dressed and when I look down at my clothes, I feel like a fool. His clothes are a lot thicker, they have like padding and all sort of nifty looking materials at the elbows and knees, while I… I'm dressed like a goddamn ballerina!

"Let's try something else," he says and hands me a bow and an arrow.

I already feel like a failure so at this point I don't even care if I look silly. I take the bow and try to find a position that seems practical and comfortable.

"Let's try to hit that tree. See that big knot it about 5 feet from the ground?"

If he's not giving me any advice, I'll just go for the point and shoot approach. I must be doing it pretty good, especially after the very low standard I set earlier because I can hear the surprise in his voice when he says

"Very good."

And that's about the last part of the lesson in which my brain is totally focused on what I'm supposed to be learning. As soon as he puts his arms around me to correct my stance… I'm lost. I can hear him speaking, but the words go through one ear and out the other. My breasts are tingling, I can feel myself blushing so hard that even the tips of my ears are burning, and my eyes simple can't stay open. What is he saying? What is he saying? I'm trying to make out the words but his voice feels like a caress. Oh, God, this can't be happening!

"Come on. Just look at the tree and hit it!"

He's no longer close so I'm kind of coming back to my senses. My mind is too blurry to think about what I'm doing, and the point and shoot technique seems to work perfectly.

"Excellent!"

I barely stop myself from hugging him at the praise.

"Yes! Oh thank God I'm not a disaster at this, too!"

He's being nice and encouraging, but when he mentions Allison is like I'm doused in cold water. Allison is dead. This is not a game. It was nice to feel desire, but that can't happen again. Chris Argent is not Peter Hale. He is not a valid option to satisfy basic necessities. I have to remain the person he can count on when he's hurt. And I have to be able to learn from him so that I'm not a liability for Scott.

Scott.

More than anyone else, this man is a real threat for Scott. He needs to do the right thing. He may have altered his code, no longer hunting just those who hunt us, but protecting those who can't protect themselves. If it came to it, what would Chris Argent think it's the right thing to do if Scott makes a mistake?

"Would you really kill Scott if you had to?"

As soon as I asked, I realized I didn't phrase what I meant.

"You know the answer. The question is, would you kill him if he starts hurting people?"

I'm a little surprised by the question. How can he imagine that I would ever kill my son? I give him the courtesy of considering the question. And I think about all the wounds I saw over the years, about all the deaths caused by werewolves like Scott. No. Not like Scott. I try to explain this to the man who was trained since childhood to kill werewolves.

"I read the book you gave me. I can understand that you were raised to believe that once a human becomes a werewolf they are cursed to lose the fight with the monstrous urges. And I can see how good you are at compartmentalizing. So it's fair to tell you that I will give my life before losing faith in my son."