The idea for this one actually came from another discarded Scalia fic of mine, and then it spiraled out of control into one of the longest parts of this series (I was originally determined to keep this whole fic under 10k...ha!). Also, it's good I went back to re-post and edit each part separately, because this one definitely needed some more work, so there's some slight changes here from the original post.

Fair warning, the whumpage definitely picks up in this chap for both of our faves! Sorry if that's not your thing (but gratuitous hurt/comfort and angst are what I'm best at writing, honestly.)

So, enjoy?

Fictional


THREE-Blue Christmas

Time stood still. Malia had lost track of the days at this point, all running together in a jumbled mess of blood and pain and torture.

She had no idea how long it'd been since she'd been taken, everything becoming a slow, painful blur, but she knew it must be getting close to Christmas by now.

She just hoped that the others had gotten away during the ambush, that everyone else was okay, that Scott was okay...

Malia figured that he was moving heaven and earth by now, trying to find her, and as much as she fervently dreamed of that moment in between torture by her captors and bouts of unconsciousness, she hoped that he never did.

Because that was the whole point, why the hunters had targeted her specifically in the end, made sure to split them apart strategically so that she was trapped. They wanted to use her against Scott, to make him concede, to just back down, to heel to Monroe and give up this ongoing war.

It'd been too good to be true to hope that after everything with Gerard and the Anuk-Ite that she would just give up and disappear, but Monroe had meticulously spent the last few years establishing a new mindless army to come after all things supernatural.

In answer, Scott had fought back once again, establishing his own supernatural army and determinedly traveling around and gathering up every lone wolf, every stray, to protect them and give them a cause worth fighting for.

So as much as she didn't want to die, desperately wanted to be found...she knew it couldn't happen, because Scott couldn't give up, couldn't just give up everything they'd all fought so hard for, just to save her.

With a deep sigh, Malia pulled uselessly at her own bonds laced with wolfsbane, wincing as it further irritated her already chaffed and burned skin from where the bonds were touching her. Even if she was able to break free of the bonds, she was still in a metal cage, lined with mountain ash, and powered with a strong electrical undercurrent.

As much as she had wanted to believe that these hunters were amateurs, new lackeys of Monroe's sent on a mission to prove their worth, she had realized over the past few...or was it several now...days that these hunters weren't amateurs at all.

Monroe had made sure to send her best after them this time. Knowing that now, Malia refused to be downfall of their entire war, their entire fight, and she hoped that Scott would be able to see that too, because even though he loved her, he was still the leader of this whole thing against Monroe, and their cause needed him. The pack needed him.

However, she had a sinking, knowing feeling that when it came to her, Scott wouldn't be rational. Hopefully Argent or Stiles or someone would be able to talk some sense into him, be able to keep him from coming after her, or from heeding to Monroe's demands in return for her life. There were much bigger things at stake here than saving her, even she could see that.

But Scott wasn't easily swayed when it came to protecting the people he loved, so Malia shouldn't have been surprised when only a few days later, the hunters trudged loudly down the stairs into whatever forgotten basement she was being kept in, dragging a new captive behind them.

Malia should have known when she caught glimpse of who her new fellow captive was going to be, but when she saw that it actually was Scott, her heart nearly leapt into her throat.

No no nonononono...

He wasn't supposed to be here, he wasn't supposed to do this, to give himself up for her...

But deep down, Malia had feared, had already known that this was what he would do.

The hunters roughly threw Scott face first into the cage directly across the small, musty basement from her, and he landed with a pained grunt on the cement floor, unable to catch himself from the metal chains binding his hands together. Malia knew it wasn't regular metal, but some type of charmed metal, laced with something that was aversive to werewolves.

Because she was sure that if it wasn't, Scott would have broken free already.

"Try to get comfortable," a large, buff man with a military buzz cut and menacing scar across his face, laughed cruelly as the other men locked up the cage door. "When Monroe gets here, the fun will really start."

"Now Sarge," one of the other men grinned sadistically, turning to face the other man, "don't get their hopes up."

Sarge, the self-appointed leader of this little group, nodded with a matching bloodthirsty grin. "Well, it's going to be fun for us. Not so much for you two," he gestured at first Scott and then Malia with a sneer. "I can't wait to tell Monroe that Christmas came early."

As they headed back towards the stairs, he threw carelessly over his shoulder, "now don't you two go anywhere." The rest of the men to burst into cruel laughter at his taunting as they all disappeared upstairs.

As soon as they were alone, Malia caught Scott's gaze across the room as he scrambled to his feet, hands still bound. She could see the palpable relief on his face at seeing that she was okay, that she was still alive, but his eyes were still scanning over every part of her, as if he really couldn't believe it. "Malia...are you okay?"

Malia sighed heavily, with a shake of her head. Her voice was a mix of both disbelief, anger, and relief when she spoke. "You shouldn't be here."

He held her gaze steadily as he replied, not a hint of remorse in his words. "It was the only way to find you."

"Scott," she huffed indignantly, "I'm not even going to ask, because I already know you did something incredibly stupid and turned yourself in to Monroe's men."

He didn't offer a counter argument her insinuation, but the look in his eyes said it all.

Malia felt herself growing more angry, but it was only because she was afraid of what would happen to him now, what would happen to the rest of the pack, to their battle against Monroe, because he had made such a careless decision. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"That I had to do whatever it took," Scott's voice was heavy, quieter now, "to save you, Malia."

She sighed heavily, her tone softening now, because she had known that he would, and knew that if the roles were reversed, she'd do the same for him, but that didn't make their situation any better. "But what about the others? The pack? They need you, Scott. They can't win this thing against Monroe without you!"

"And we need you, Malia," he replied quietly, but she could hear the conviction in his tone. "I need you. And there's no way we were going to let you go without a fight."

Malia swallowed thickly at that, pushing down the overwhelming emotions that she suddenly felt at his words. She cleared her throat before she continued. "Okay, well, please tell me that you have a plan at least."

He gave her a small smile. "It's a long shot, but Argent is on my trail. He might be able to find us before Monroe gets here..."

She frowned as he trailed off, his smile falling. She was hesitant as she asked him the heavy, unspoken question hovering in the space between them.

"...and if he doesn't?"

Scott sighed heavily, a serious look on his face. "Then we're on our own."


Another day went by without any sign of their captors, or Argent and the pack, but Scott and Malia both knew that time was running out.

As soon as Monroe arrived, it would be game over for both of them. Malia knew that Monroe wanted nothing more than to kill Scott, to make a point to the rest of the pack and all of their allies that she was winning the war, and that she had easily taken down the True Alpha and was coming after all of them next.

Malia figured she would just be used as some sort of device to get Scott not to fight back, and she vehemently refused to be the reason he got himself killed.

She looked across the room at him, as he pulled against the restraints on his wrists to no avail, jaw clenched and muscles flexing as he pulled with all his might. He paused, making a frustrated noise, panting heavily from the exertion. Whatever the metal was laced with, it was incredibly strong, even for an alpha werewolf.

"There's no point," Malia sighed with a shake of her head. "Might as well save your strength."

Scott's head snapped up to meet her gaze and he narrowed his eyes at her, before shaking his head and tugging yet again at his restraints to no avail. "We can't stop trying, Malia."

The truth was that they had both been trying to break free since they had been taken by Monroe's men, but Malia had had a lot more practice at this point to know that it was useless. They had to take into consideration the fact that these hunters both outnumbered all of them and had new weapons against supernatural creatures that even Argent hadn't heard of. These hunters were prepared to take them down once and for all, seamlessly it seemed.

In short, they were in big trouble, and unless Argent and the rest of the pack found them soon...then they weren't going to make it out of this one. They knew that the only reason that the hunters hadn't killed them yet was because they were waiting for Monroe to arrive, because she wanted to pleasure of killing them herself.

"No, but we also need to be realistic," Malia huffed, shoulders slumping. "We're not getting out of this one."

"Yes, we are," Scott replied through gritted teeth as he fought against his restraints again, still refusing to give up hope. She had always been the realist of the pack where Scott was somehow the never quitting optimist, even with everything they'd been through over the years. That's what made him a good leader and a good Alpha, even in the face of defeat, and it was just one of the many things she loved about him...he never gave up.

"We're not going to die, Malia."

She sighed at his words, just looking over at him, not saying anything for a moment as Scott continued to try and find a way to get free. After a few minutes, he gave up and stopped pulling against the restraints, looking back up at her again, determination still etched across his face despite making no progress on their escape.

"Argent will find a way to stop them and the pack will find a way to rescue us. They won't stop until they find us," he said with conviction, putting on a brave face. She knew he was worried too, but he couldn't admit it now. That would be as certain as giving up.

But he had also turned himself over like a sacrifical lamb, so she knew deep down that Scott already knew how this was going to end, knew what he had signed himself up for, but he still was determined to save her, at least.

"But not in time," she tried not to sound too flippant about it. She didn't want to die, but she knew what their odds were, and in her experience it was always better to be prepared for the worst. She had figured since the moment she'd been taken that it was all over for her, but that was before Scott had foolishly thrown himself into harm's way to join her. Now she had to worry about both of them. "Monroe could be here any minute. They'll never find us in time."

Scott looked at her seriously then, his eyes flashing red with his intensity. "Malia, I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

Malia tried to ignore the sudden fluttering in her chest at his words, blinking rapidly to hold back her emotions as her eyes inadvertently flashed blue in response.

"Scott, I appreciate the thought, I really do," she finally replied, "but don't make promises you can't keep." She sighed, pulling at her own binds again with a growl of frustration, both at their situation and at Scott for making such a reckless decision.

"Which is why you shouldn't have done something so stupid and turned yourself over to them in the first place."

"Well, it doesn't matter, because I'm here now, and I won't let them hurt you," he insisted, still giving her that intense gaze that made her shiver involuntarily, which in turn made her internally hate herself. She was a strong fighter, and always had been, but something about how protective Scott always was over her made her feel loved, and safe, and gave her hope of winning when there shouldn't have been any.

But at the same time, she didn't want him making anymore reckless decisions to save her than he already had.

"I don't need you to protect me," she suddenly shot back, before realizing how harshly it had come out until she saw the chagrined look on his face.

"I know you can take care of yourself, Malia," he replied quietly. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to keep you safe. I have to."

Well, of course. That was why he was here now in this predicament with her, after all, because he had been desperate enough to try and save her, even knowing it was a suicide mission.

"Yeah, I know," she sighed, softening her tone. "What I mean is, I don't think it's going to matter really. You can't stop them like this, as much as you want to."

"Well," Scott replied seriously, "I'm the Alpha. I'm the leader of this whole movement against Monroe. I'm the one they really want. I might be able to convince them to let you go, if I don't fight against them. If I promise to just give in and do what they want."

"Scott, no way, are you crazy?" Malia looked at him incredulously. "You can't just lie down and take it! You have to fight back, if you get the chance."

"Not if it saves you," he shrugged matter-of-factly, giving her that patented Scott McCall look that she had seen way too often, especially since they had been together.

The look that said, I'm going to do whatever it takes to save you, even if it kills me.

"No, no you're not," she shook her head vehemently at him. "And even if they did let me go, which I highly doubt they will anyways, I'm not just going to leave you here!"

"Malia, you have to," he said firmly but softly. "If you get the chance to get away, you have to take it. Promise me that you'll go."

"Scott, I can't," Malia argued, trying to make him understand. "I won't do that. If I leave...they'll kill you."

Scott sighed heavily, giving her a pained look. "Malia, they're going to kill me anyways."

"Wait, wait, wait," she scowled at him now, "then what was all that talk just now about how we are not going to die? I'm pretty sure that means both of us."

He nodded slowly at that. "I know. But the whole reason they took you was to get to me, so maybe we can use that to our advantage. If it comes down to it, they'll probably try to take me down first, and if we can use that as a distraction for you to get free, then we have to take it."

"No, no way," Malia disagreed firmly, "absolutely not. Why would you even think that was an option?"

"Because I have to do whatever I can to save you. I can't let you get hurt." He paused, looking down at the cement floor in the darkened room for a long moment before looking back up at her, and the serious look he gave her took her breath away.

"I couldn't take it if something happened to you, Malia."

She swallowed thickly at his words, unable to speak for several moments as she tried to gather her reeling emotions. She couldn't lose him either, because she was certain that she wouldn't survive it.

"And I couldn't take it if something happened to you, Scott," she finally replied, trying to sound braver behind her words than she felt, watching all of the conflicted emotions crossing his face. "So don't even think for one second that I would actually leave you behind."

A heavy silence fell between them, the seriousness of the situation crushing them both, until Malia couldn't take it anymore, determined now that they were going to make it out of this.

They had to.

"So now that that's established, what do you say we break the hell out of here and hand these hunters their asses?"

Scott actually chuckled at that, unable to stop the grin that spread across his face at her words. "Okay, okay, deal. Just one problem...how do you propose we do that exactly?"

Malia was smirking now as she shook her head. "I don't know yet. But I'm working on a plan." She paused, tugging uselessly at her bonds again. "One that saves both of us."


After days of no interaction with their captors, the hunters finally decided it was time to make them talk.

"Well, since Monroe will be here tonight," Sarge grinned cruelly at them as the hunters came into the room, "we thought we'd make sure you guys were ready to welcome her."

Malia swallowed thickly at that, because she knew that things were about to get violent.

"So let's start with this: where is the rest of your pack?" Sarge asked coolly, as two men dressed fully in tactical gear roughly dragged Scott out of his cell and handcuffed him to a metal chair. It was obvious to Malia that the cuffs were also bound with wolfsbane or maybe something stronger from the pained look on his face when they were put on. Five other hunters stood around him, military grade guns full of wolfsbane-laced bullets all aimed directly at his head. Scott stared angrily back at them, determined not to appear afraid.

Malia couldn't help the low growl that escaped her throat from her cage across the room, seeing Scott in danger and not being able to do anything about it. She hated it.

"I don't know," Scott answered honestly, not that he would have given up their location even if he did know. "I don't know where they are."

"Let's try this again," Sarge said, casually cracking his knuckles, before picking up some metal rings sitting on the table behind him and sliding them on his fingers. Without another word, he punched Scott directly across the face with a sickening crunch. His head bobbed violently to the side from the impact, and he spilt out a glob of blood as he turned back to his tormentor, his eyes flashing an angry Alpha red now.

"Now answer me, mutt. Where are they?"

Scott glowered at Sarge even as he towered over him, eyes still red. "I told you, I don't know."

"Trying to play tough guy, are we?" Sarge scoffed, shaking his head. "You dumb animals just don't know when to quit."

With an almost bored look, he picked up an electrical prod from the table behind him, as some of the other hunters smirked when they saw what was coming. Scott swallowed thickly as he eyed it, because he knew from experience how much that was going to hurt.

Malia felt her heart leap out of her chest as she had vivid flashbacks of Scott being struck with one of those in Mexico all those years ago.

It wouldn't kill him...hopefully. But it was going to hurt.

"I'm sure your familiar with one of these," Sarge smirked, seeing Scott's eyes widen in recognition, "but what you don't know is that these are our own special brand. We've had a little time to come up with our own models during this war." He came closer to Scott, looking proudly at the prod in his hand.

"This baby is a little extra turbo-charged, if you will. Enough volts in one of these bad boys to kill a werewolf, even a True Alpha," he spit the name in disgust, "with one hit."

Malia's heartbeat quickened in fear, and she pulled against her restraints uselessly once again.

Scott!

Sarge strode back towards Scott, jamming the prod against his chest forcefully, his finger hovering over the trigger. "Okay, one more time, dog...where is your pack?"

Scott held his stare forcefully, but his shoulders sagged in defeat because he knew what was coming. "I already told you...I. Don't. Know."

Sarge scoffed, already unamused with the interrogation, and without another word, hit the switch.

Scott's cries of pain filled the small, musty room as his entire body shook with the force of the electricity passing through his body.

"Hey! Stop it!" Malia yelled angrily, beating her bound hands uselessly against the mountain ash enforced bars, not even noticing when her hands came away red and raw from touching them. "No, stop it you idiots! You'll kill him!"

After what felt like an eternity, Sarge finally stepped back, and Scott sagged against the chair, breathing heavily from the pain and the exertion to heal against the super powered prod. With an evil gleam in his eye, Sarge turned around for the first time to face Malia across the room in her cell.

"You better watch your mouth," he snarled at her, waving the prod in her direction, "or you'll be next."

"Don't touch her," Scott growled suddenly, picking his head back up with notable effort.

"Ah, yes, protective of your little pack, aren't you?" Sarge sneered in Scott's direction. He gave Malia a long, leering look before he continued. "And I could see why you'd be especially protective of this one. I mean, that's why you stupidly let us catch you, isn't it? To get to her."

Scott snarled viciously at him again, eyes back to red and fangs emerging now. One of the other hunters stepped forward, placing the barrel of his rifle directly against Scott's temple.

"I'd take it easy there, wolf," Sarge grinned sadistically, "because even with your super special healing, a wolfsbane bullet directly to the brain is something even you can't heal from."

"We already told you, we don't know where the others are," Malia cut in quickly, trying to deflect their attention away from Scott. "If we did, they would be here right now, saving us and kicking your asses, don't you think?"

"You've sure got quite a mouth on you, little bitch," Sarge snapped his head up look at her again, and Malia shrunk back away from the bars slightly at the terrifying look he gave her. "Maybe you need to learn when to shut up."

"Stay away from her," Scott snarled angrily, pulling futilely against his restraints, only for the hunter next to him to click off the safety of his gun, pressing it harder against his temple.

"Scott, don't," Malia warned, looking at him with worried eyes. She could see his worry for her reflected back in his own. The last thing she needed was for him to get himself killed trying to protect her, and she had been determined since the moment he had been put in the cell across from her to keep him alive, at all costs. "I'm okay."

Sarge just looked back and forth between them with amusement, as if a new idea had just struck him. "Well, wolf, if you won't talk, maybe your bitch will. Besides, Monroe wants the joy of killing you herself."

He paused, grinning sadistically. "But she didn't say anything about her."

"No! Leave her alone!" Scott shouted furiously, as Sarge strode purposefully over to Malia's cell and swung open the door. She snarled viciously at him, eyes flashing blue and fangs and claws emerging on instinct.

"I wouldn't do that, sweetheart, if you don't want your boyfriend over there to get a nice hole in his head," Sarge looked at her coolly, gesturing to his minion still aiming the gun directly at Scott's head.

Malia growled again angrily, but she wouldn't do anything to get Scott hurt. She'd gladly sacrifice herself to keep him alive, had been ready to do that all along even before Scott had turned himself in to find her. With great effort, she retracted her werecoyote features with a shake of her head, looking back at Sarge hatefully, but human once again.

"That's better," he gave her a menacing smile, roughly grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the cell.

Scott made to pull against his restraints again, even with the gun still aimed at his temple by the other hunter, but Malia gave him another warning look not to fight, and he hesitated, understanding that he had to get himself under control before they were both killed.

There was still time, if Argent and the pack could find them before Monroe arrived...

But their hope was dwindling by the second.

Sarge dragged her to the center of the room, directly underneath a thick, metal bar that ran horizontally along the rusted ceiling. He took another pair of werewolf-proof handcuffs and attached her to the bar, her arms stretched painfully above her towards the ceiling while her toes just barely touched the floor.

"Ok, now," he turned to look back at Scott, "here's how this is going to go. You answer my questions, she doesn't get hurt. You don't answer my questions, well..." he gestured with his hand towards the table he had gotten the prod from, laden with more supernatural torture devices.

"Leave her out of this," Scott demanded, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice and failing. "I'm the one you really want, so just let her go, and I'll do whatever you want. I won't fight back, I swear, if you don't hurt her."

"Scott," Malia protested, making eye contact with him and trying to convey her thoughts to him across the room.

I won't leave without you. No matter what.

"That's all true, but we're not just going to let her walk out of here. Or your pack. As soon as we're done with the two of you, they're next. And then the rest of your pathetic allies," Sarge laughed, shaking his head in sick amusement. "It's cute, really, how you thought you could really win this war. You're just an animal. You had no chance against Monroe and her movement, and what we stand for. You never did."

"But," he continued, with fake sincerity, "you can make it easier for yourselves by telling us what we want to know, and we'll try not to make your deaths too painful. Small mercies, if you will."

"That's real generous," Malia spat, unable to contain her anger, even though she knew how stupid it was to antagonize the man who was about to torture her. "But even if you kill us, you'll never win. Our pack will never stop fighting, no matter what. You idiots have no chance."

"I thought I told you to shut up," Sarge turned back to her with a swift ferocity, punching her directly in the stomach with the metal knuckles. Malia let out a cry of pain as all the wind was knocked out of her, her shoulders straining as she swung back and forth from the ceiling from the force of the blow.

"Stop it! Don't hurt her!" Scott was pulling frantically against the metal chair now, his wrists dripping blood now from how hard he was pulling against the cuffs. "It's me you want, not her. Leave her out of this!"

"Sergio," Sarge gave a quick look at the man still holding the gun against Scott's temple, and with a short nod of understanding, the man moved the gun and shot Scott right through the shoulder. He couldn't hold back a groan of pain as the bullet tore through his body, slumping back against the chair from the force of the impact.

"Scott!" Malia rasped out, regaining her breath and struggling uselessly against her restraints. "Stop! Don't hurt him!"

"Well, well, ready to cooperate now?" Sarge looked back and forth between them, getting some sick satisfaction from using them against each other. He picked up the prod again, and jammed it against Malia's stomach from where she was still dangling from the ceiling. Her wide eyes found Scott's, and through the haze of pain she could see there, she saw even more worry for her.

"I'll do whatever you want," Scott gritted out between his teeth, in obvious pain as blood dripped steadily from his shoulder, soaking the front of his shirt now, "as long as you don't hurt her. Please."

"Then answer the question. Where is your pack? What is their next move?" Sarge demanded once again.

"They're coming for us," Malia suddenly interrupted, drawing his attention back to her, and away from Scott, desperate to buy them some time. "They're coming to get us back."

"I didn't ask you a question," Sarge sneered cruelly at her, suddenly hitting the switch on the prod and sending electricity coursing through her body.

Try as she might, Malia wasn't prepared for how much it was going to hurt, and she couldn't hold back her cries of pain.

It was excruciating.

"Stop! No, don't touch her, you bastards!"

She could hear Scott distantly yelling through the haze of pain. It went on and on and on. He was going to kill her, right in front of Scott, she was sure of it.

Then finally...it stopped.

She hung limply, only semi-conscious now, her body twitching from the amount of electricity she had endured. Those were no ordinary prods. They were designed to kill werewolves.

"One more hit like that, and she's dead," Sarge turned back to face Scott as he was still desperately struggling against his bonds. "Especially with a little extra wolfsbane in her system."

Without warning, he picked up a long dagger from the table, and Malia could smell the wolfsbane on it long before she felt it. He made a deep slice into her side, and she grunted in pain as she felt the poison leeching into her body.

Super healing or not, these hunters had more advanced tools then they had ever seen, more potent wolfsbane and more high powered weapons, specifically for their kind. There was no way they were going to survive this, Scott's unwavering optimism be damned.

Although, when she finally had the strength to pick her head back up and look at him, he looked anything but optimistic now. He looked completely terrified, but not for himself.

For her.

"Malia, are you okay?" he asked softly, ignoring the hunters surrouding them in the room.

"Yeah, yeah Scott," Malia forced a fake smile at him though the pain, although he could see right through it, "I'm okay. Are you okay?"

He nodded slowly, although she could clearly see his shoulder wasn't healing from whatever had been in the bullet, and he was losing a lot of blood from the wound. But they had to focus on trying to survive this first, of getting out of here, and then worry about their wounds later.

"Real touching, but I'm losing my patience here," Sarge cut into their moment. "So here it is. You answer my question, or I kill her right now. She won't survive another hit with this thing, not with that type of wolfsbane in her system too," he waved the prod around in his hand.

"You don't need to hurt her, she doesn't know anything," Scott protested, trying to convince them even though they both knew it was fruitless. "Torture me, I won't fight you. I'll even call off my pack, and our allies, tell them not to fight you anymore, if you just leave her alone. If you let her go."

"Then where is your pack? And your allies?" he ignored Scott's plea, holding the prod against Malia again. "Where are they going to strike next?"

She froze, holding her breath and waiting for the inevitable pain that would come.

"She's right, they're coming for us," Scott replied carefully, eyeing the prod against her with concern. "They're on their way to get us right now."

"Not good enough," Sarge replied shortly, before turning the prod on against Malia without hesitation.

The pain was completely blinding this time against her already weakened system, and she was sure her heart was going to stop. She fought a losing battle with consciousness as the electricity coursed through every fiber of her body relentlessly. Somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard Scott's deafening roar, his True Alpha roar, but it was hard to make out anything through her overwhelmed senses.

The next thing she knew, she was vaguely aware of multiple gunshots firing around the room and the shouts of anger and fear from the hunters around them.

Then suddenly, the electricity stopped. She struggled to suck in a large inhale, to catch her breath as feeling slowly came back to her body.

With considerable effort, she pried open her eyes to see Scott somehow free from his cuffs now, out of the chair and fighting all six hunters on his own. It was a losing battle, but for the moment their attention was away from her.

But they were going to kill him, even as he dodged and weaved their bullets as fast as he could, swinging around to knock out one hunter and put another one between him and a barrage of bullets. He was outnumbered, and tiring quickly, already struggling against his earlier injuries.

Malia growled in frustration and worry. She needed to get free somehow so that she could help him. She couldn't let him fight on his own, she wouldn't.

Using all of her strength, she pulled herself up towards the ceiling, her fingers finally catching hold of the metal bar she was suspended from. She tried vainly to pull back, to either break the cuffs or the bar, but the wolfsbane in her system coupled with the aftershocks of nearly being electrocuted to death were making it nearly impossible, all of her super strength zapped.

Then Scott let out a howl of pain as another bullet grazed him, and Malia knew he was in trouble, that he was losing against all of the hunters on his own, but that he would fight them to the death if it meant giving her a chance to get away.

She couldn't let that happen.

With new found strength from somewhere deep within herself, eyes flashing and claws emerging once again, Malia scooted herself heavily down along the length of the metal pole, her cuffs scrapping against the cool metal, until she found what seemed like a relative weak spot.

And then she pulled, as hard as she could, giving it everything she had.

The metal beam gave, just enough that she could pull her cuffed hands free from the ceiling. With a ferocious snarl, she headed into the chaos to help Scott, wrapping her still cuffed hands around one hunter's neck and choking him out with the chain.

Three down, three to go.

With her still linked hands, she wrapped the handcuff chain around the offending rifle barrel pointed in her direction by the next hunter, effectively yanking it out of his hands with a sharp pull, before landing both of her joined fists directly into his astonished face.

Two left.

She looked quickly over at Scott then, and in that moment, her heart stopped.

Scott was taking on the remaining hunter and Sarge on his own, but he was tiring quickly, from a combination of all of his earlier injuries, his movements becoming even more sluggish. Malia watched in horror as Sarge stumbled back from a hard blow from Scott, and pretended to be down for the count as Scott turned to face the last hunter standing.

That's when Sarge, too vicious and evil to just go down that easily, rolled back over, his gun aimed directly at Scott's back from the floor.

Malia didn't think, didn't hesitate, her body on autopilot, because she knew what she had to do.

She had to save him.

She threw herself at Scott, tackling him hard to the ground, just as the gun went off.

It was weird, she thought distantly to herself as they tumbled to the hard cement floor, that it should hurt more, taking a direct hit with a bullet full of wolfsbane, way too close to her heart...but it didn't.

Everything was blissfully numb.

The world was swimming, fading in and out around her, but she could hear Scott shouting at her, as if in the distance, but he seemed farther and farther away.

Malia blinked up at him, at his panicked face hovering over hers, but she couldn't respond, and she tried to give him a weak smile, wishing he could read her thoughts.

It's okay.

Her eyelids were so heavy now, and she stopped fighting the pull, even as she could hear Scott's broken voice desperately pleading to her in the distance.

"Malia, no, hey! Just hang on, okay, you have to hang on! Malia, no...please..."

She felt the tug of darkness, pulling her back, further away from him, but she didn't regret giving her life for his.

Scott was alive, and he could keep fighting, could win this damn war and protect everyone and everything they cared about, and might actually have the chance to live his life, maybe even finish college...and she couldn't have any regrets about that.

As reality faded into nothing, she swore she could hear more fighting in the distance, or more gunshots, but everything was hazy. It was eerie, because she couldn't really make out anything clearly now, but she could have sworn she heard Argent, or Stiles, or even Lydia screaming...

But that just had to be her last throes of hope as she faded away into nothing, because there was just no way they could really be there...

And then the world went black.


Malia didn't know where she was.

Awareness was coming back to her slowly in broken bits and pieces, and her body felt heavy, her mind swimming in a deep fog.

She fought to open her eyes, but her body just didn't want to cooperate, and she felt panic building in her chest as her jumbled memories suddenly started coming back to her in a rush.

The hunters. Fighting to escape. Pushing Scott out of the way. Taking a bullet...

With a new surge of energy, she slowly pried open her heavy eyelids, blinking groggily in an effort to focus her still blurred vision.

As the world slowly came back, Malia realized she was in one of the back rooms at Deaton's clinic, which had been turned into a sort of makeshift hospital room for the supernatural out of necessity over the years.

She winced at the bright lights directly above, before turning her head slightly to see Scott in a chair right next to her, fast asleep. He had his head propped forward onto the side of the bed next to her, nestled on the crook of his elbow, his fingers tightly interlaced with hers.

Malia frowned when she noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the evident lines of stress and worry on his face even as he slept, and she could easily guess from his haggard appearance that he hadn't been sleeping much at all.

She let out a small sigh of relief that despite looking exhausted, he didn't appear to have any other injuries, and she figured that he must have already healed from being shot during the fight.

From what little she could remember, hers had been a more mortal wound, a nearly direct hit to her heart, and really she was genuinely surprised that she was even alive.

She made a move to squeeze his hand, but was surprised by how much even the small movement caused pain to flare sharply throughout her entire body. She was unable to suppress a small groan that involuntarily escaped, which made Scott shoot up instantly from his sleeping position, worried eyes quickly finding her face.

"...Malia?" he asked, and his voice was simultaneously so full of hope and fear that it made her heart clench, as a thousand different emotions crossed his face.

"Hi," she whispered, her voice dry and rough from not being used, and Scott sagged against the bed in relief, reaching his hand forward to gently cup her cheek.

"Thank God," he croaked, eyes shining with unshed tears, "I was so scared, Malia, that you, that you wouldn't..."

He trailed off with a shake of his head, unable to continue, and she squeezed his hand again.

"Can't get rid of me that easily," she murmured hoarsely, giving him what she hoped was a grin, even though it felt more like a grimace.

"How do you feel?" he asked gently, eyes carefully searching her face.

She shrugged, unable to hide the wince at the unexpected pain the movement caused. "Uh, it's not that bad..."

At the doubtful look he gave her, she sighed, starting over. "Okay, I'm definitely sore...but not that bad, all things considered." She glanced down at their joined hands, and she was sure Scott had been pulling her pain most of the time she was unconscious. "But I'm guessing that's thanks to you."

He just gave a stiff nod in reply as he tightly squeezed her hand again, like it was a lifeline keeping her there with him. She raised an eyebrow at him curiously, because she didn't really remember anything after she had pushed him out of the line of fire.

"So...what happened?"

"Well, do you mean after Argent and the pack found us," Scott exhaled shakily, leveling her with a serious look now, "or do you mean after you saved my life?"

Malia held his gaze steadily, because faced with the same choice, she would do the same thing over and over again if it meant she could keep him safe. "I had to, Scott."

His expression suddenly became a mixture of anger and guilt, and he shook his head vehemently. "Are you serious? You almost died, Malia, do you get that? You almost died trying to save me, and..."

"And what?" she cut him off, giving him a defiant look, even from her weakened state in the bed. "I couldn't just let you die, Scott."

"And I can't let you die!" he stood up suddenly, hovering over the bed now, his voice cracking as he looked down at her. "Especially to protect me. You don't understand, I can't lose you, Malia..."

"You didn't," she said gently, seeing how upset he was getting, trying to bring him back, "and you won't. You won't lose me, okay? I'm sorry that I scared you, but I did it...because I can't lose you either."

"I know, I know, it's just," he shook his head, trying to gather himself, "I almost lost you, and I don't know what I would have done. How could you even think that jumping in front of a gun was a good idea?"

"Okay, it may not have been my best decision," Malia replied, pausing for a moment to catch her breath, "but I don't regret it. Come on, you know why I did it. And you know you'd do the same for me."

"I know, I do know that Malia," he took a deep breath, slowly calming down, his expression softening, "just, just promise me that you'll never do something like that again. Promise me that you won't get hurt trying to protect me."

"Scott," she managed a small smile at him, "you know I can't promise you that. Just like you can't promise me that."

He sighed heavily, because he did know that, and he knew it was a losing argument, a double standard that she'd never let him win, because she was just as fiercely protective of him as he was of her.

He leaned down to kiss her gently. "So stubborn," he muttered softly against her lips.

She couldn't help the playful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth as he pulled back. "That's why you love me."

"That's just one reason," he actually snorted at that, unable to suppress a smile at her words as he finally sank back down into the chair. "I'm just really glad you're okay."

"Me too," Malia sighed lightly at that, before her brows furrowed as she suddenly realized something. "Wait a minute...how long have I been out? What day is it?"

Scott hesitated for a moment before answering. "It's, uh, a couple of days after Christmas."

She groaned, but this time it had nothing to do with her pain. "Seriously? We missed it again?"

"It's okay," he reached over to squeeze her hand again reassuringly, "now that you're awake, we'll have plenty of time to make up for it."

Malia sighed, sinking back against the bed, gripping his hand back in return. "We better."


This part was one of my favorites to write out of this whole story...which is probably why it ended up being one of the longest. Scott and Malia being protective and worried about each other is my aesthetic!

So, which part is the best so far? Three more to re-post!