Chapter Eleven: Are You Real?
Song Inspiration: Oblivion By Bastille and Soldier On By Temper Trap
"And I saw the peaks on my own that you probably meant for us. And I tore the fear from my bones that you probably never lost."- Novo Amor, "Alps"
Malia.
Scott runs through the masses dodging werewolves, a banshee, and chimeras alike, searching frantically for a messy shadow of brown hair.
Where is she?
She can't be gone.
Not her.
There's blood on the floor and a green, gooey liquid that seeps into the cracks in the mahogany wood.
He can taste the lingering scent of her vanilla lotion in the air.
He feels her so deeply that her scent alone almost seems tangible, a fading trail of sun-kissed skin that he loved to touch. Taking another whiff makes him pause. Another smell is mixed with hers, one all too familiar that makes his eyes burn an angry red so forthcoming in their fury that they could make imprints in the spot that he had seen her fall.
Theo.
How is that even possible? He's dead.
He doesn't know what he's done with Malia or how he is even alive but the psychopath was able to kidnap her quickly and quietly without any of them noticing. He was probably there the whole time. The thought causes a growl to rip through Scott's chest and his claws dig deep into his palms until he scraps bone.
He had to find her. The Ghost Riders whip had weakened her. She could be dying for all he knew. One way or the other, he would get her back. Even if he had to put Theo down to do it.
His canines peek out from the folds of his lips and a distorted growl releases from his throat. "Let's finish this."
Liam, Derek, and Jackson stand by his side, ready for a blood bath if it came to that. Scott hears her voice in his mind, the quiet confidence she always carried in the way she spoke, "You're the strongest person I've ever known, Scott."
He remembers the way she had looked at him. How even with the weight of the world on his shoulders and feeling like everything was going to collapse around him, she still believed in him. They had laid on his comforter, staring up at the ceiling with her head on his shoulder. She had talked for so long that he could barely gotten a word in at some points, but he didn't mind. He liked the sound of her voice.
"Scott" She breathes, "Why do you choose to stay here and continue to fight for this town... For people you don't even know? You do so much good for every one and no one even knows all that you've sacrificed."
He recalls the small grin he wore at her question. The look stayed permanently etched in his cheeks when she was around as he was always further amazed at her uncurbed curiosity and the bluntness that he had come to expect. It had been a long time since someone had just asked about him. It was always him making sure everyone else was okay, not that he minded that so much. It was just nice to have someone wanting to focus on him, even if it sometimes unnerved him. Scott was never one who wanted others to spend their time worrying over him, but Malia had this way of knowing when he needed to talk about something and she wasn't afraid to ask.
"These people... This town, they're my responsibility. When Allison and I brought power back to the Nemeton to save our parents, we also opened the floodgates for supernaturals to wander here. Allison is gone, so it's just me now."
She shifts on his bed until her head is angled to look at him. "But you have bigger dreams, Scott. You told me how you want to go off to school and become a veterinarian, open up your own clinic one day... The whole thing. This sense of responsibility that you feel you need to fulfill to Beacon Hills had an expiration date, and you've given your time. You deserve to live, too." She says, a soft smile playing on her features.
Her brown hair looked even darker in his dimly lit room, but her eyes still blazed with the intensity of a liquid sunset as the moonlight highlights different contours of her face. Seeing her like this was like seeing her naked again for the first time. She is so raw and unfiltered; a gorgeous combination. It's almost painful to look at her and his heart thuds in his chest when she watches him. He wonders if she's picked up on it.
Girls like her didn't deserve to be stuck here, either.
He sighs. "I just don't know what else I'm suppose to do. I can't leave all of this for Liam to handle on his own-" He's cut off by her hand on his bicep.
"You still have me. I can stay here- I didn't really have any college plans, anyways. I have no money and I'm not smart enough to get into some great school like you or Lydia." She confesses.
And the sad part is he can tell she means that. She really doesn't see herself clearly, not the way he sees her. She's smart in a practical kind of a way. The type of smart that survives and unravels when it's needed. She's helped save people countless times, including himself. But she's stubborn. Being set in her ways, it's almost impossible to change her mind.
He shushes her with a disapproving look. "Malia, you are smart. School isn't for everyone, but it can be if that's what you want. You're capable of whatever you put your mind to. I can help you fill out applications for schools and loans. We could even go on some college tours. Just because I've resigned to my decision to stay here doesn't mean you have to. I know this place isn't all that exciting." He chuckles nervously.
She has no idea how much the thought of her being there with him made him feel. They had become so close that he'd had come to rely on her, but he couldn't ask her to stop her life for him. She has a bright future ahead of her and he couldn't wait to see what life had in store for the brave werecoyote.
Malia kicks off her boots and yawns, her eyes crinkling in the corners and her little nose scrunches up. She looked so small and lightened, a stark difference from her usual fierce nature and readied alertness. Scott wishes he had a camera to capture the moment.
She growls playfully at the grin on his face and shoves him over to his side of the bed. "Stop looking at me like that, McCall."
He laughs, "And what look would that be, Lia?"
Her eyes soften. "You know what I mean." She says, moving her arms around for emphasis, not willing to speak her observations out loud.
"Nope, I don't think I know what you mean, Malia. Why don't you tell me." He chuckles, wanting to hear all her little thoughts. He loves the pout that plays on her lips when he continues to act coy.
She scoffs at his expression and grabs the pillow next to him and slams her head against it as she lays down underneath the covers.
She doesn't say anything for a long time and Scott doesn't think she's going to elaborate any further.
He hears her moving around by the squeak of the mattress and the constant tossing and turning of her body.
Finally she turns back to face him but he's already looking at her, his eyes burning holes into her back until she couldn't take it anymore.
"You looked at me like I was beautiful." She says honestly, her eyelashes fanning across her cheeks as she looks down at the bed, "I don't think anyone has ever looked at me like that before." She finishes, biting her lip and chancing a look in his direction.
He smooths the hair that's sticking out from the pillows and scoots closer to her whispering, "Beautiful is a pretty lousy way to describe you. There aren't enough words to get it just right." He muses anxiously, playing with a piece of her hair with shaking hands. His fingers tremble around the strands when he realizes that he's already said too much, but it's too late to back out now. He carries on, "You're hard to figure out. You're beautiful-But it's much more than that. And I've enjoyed finding out who you are." He explains with an awkward dip in his voice as he looks up at her fearfully, scared at how she would react to his honesty.
Malia snorts to fight off her growing shyness, eliciting that nervous Scott McCall smile that makes her toes curls beneath her and goosebumps to erupt across her skin. His crooked jaw made him even more handsome, just one more thing about him that she'd found herself thinking about lately.
"I can see why Allison and Kira loved you." She says quietly, almost as if she were saying it to herself. Her eyes smolder him into silence as any response he had intended to say got stuck in his throat. "Can I stay here, tonight?" She asks in a sleepy lull, her eyes already fluttering closed.
He tucks her in more, intentionally giving her more of the covers as he rolls the blankets and sheets over her shoulders. He knew they would end up there anyways, she always hogged the comforter and he let her. If this is the one place she could feel safe and warm, he'd give it all to her. "Of course, you always have a place here, Lia." He reminds her, kissing her forehead when she's sound asleep and drifting back over to his side of the bed.
He watches her sleep for a little while just to make sure she was really there. Her hair fans the pillows and she lightly snores as she rubs her nose further into his shoulder. Throughout the night she had moved closer to him, intertwining their legs with her arm thrown lazily over his abdomen and her head grazing his chest. Her hand laid over his heart and he was consciously aware of how fast it was beating. Being immersed in her was intoxicating, surrounded by her scent and feeling the heat of her body pressed against his through their clothes. Somehow being with her like this felt more surreal and intimate then anything he had ever experienced with a girl before. It wasn't about sex or lust, but just the simplicity of falling asleep in one another's arms. Needless to say, he barely got any sleep that night. Malia had him wrapped around her little finger and she didn't even know it.
His eyes squeeze shut, letting the memory wash over him.
Lydia moves over to him and grabs his arm, pulling him out of this thoughts.
He looks at Lydia searchingly whose staring at him with understanding. She knew that he wanted to go search for Malia, leaving them to fight off the Ghost Riders, but he'd never ask that of them. Seeing the indecision weighing heavy in his eyes, she leans in to squeeze his hand. "We're going to find her."
She's not sure if he hears her as his eyes seem lost in translation, shifting back and forth between the apartment anxiously as his hands tear at his hair. She's no werewolf but she could almost smell the desperation rolling off of him in waves.
Pain-stricken, he finally meets her gaze and slowly starts to lose the panic. "I have to go get her. We have no idea where she's been taken but I can smell Theo all over this place." He starts, looking like the next words to come out of his mouth could quite literally choke him "-But first, we have to take care of the Ghost Riders."
"Theo? How is he alive?" She asks, her utter dislike for the guy coloring her tone. He's the reason she had a hole drilled into her head. The reason she was put into Eichen House against her will. The reason she killed someone.
Fears creeps into his voice, "I don't know, but I'm not sure what scares me most: the not knowing, or the whole new set of problems that will arise when we find out."
They turn to face the Ghost Riders on the opposite side of the room. All their attention is focused on Lydia.
The banshee stands tall and luminous with her red hair whipping around her like a woman unbroken by the turmoil around her.
"Every one get behind me, they won't go near a banshee." She commands, beckoning the crowd near her to move around her shoulder.
"How do you know that?" Liam chimes in, his lack of faith in her knowledge eliciting a light scoff and an eye roll.
Her brow arches. "While you and Hayden were off making out in the back corner of the library, I was actually doing some research of my own." She smirks at the sheepish grin on his face. "The mythology mentioned that the Ghost Riders have an aversion to banshees. We're the only ones they leave behind when they ride the lightening and move onto a new town. Now if you're done asking questions, do as I say and get behind me." She snaps, an irritated grimace causing her forehead to wrinkle.
The Ghost Riders look on curiously, cocking their head to the side before their horses back up a few paces.
Liam whispers, "They're... Afraid of you."
Lydia hushes him, shifting her eyes cautiously to meet the young beta before coming back to the Ghost Riders. "No, it's not that. It's more like... Reverence."
She takes a small step forward and Parrish brushes her side, hand coming to lay gently against her wrist.
She looks him over, a tight-lipped smile curving against her full, red pout.
"Jordan, it's okay." She says, shaking herself loose from his grip.
Her voice thickens with emotion, a special kind of ferocity living inside the small red head for so long and just waiting for the day to be set free.
She breathes in and then lets it all out, "Saoire agus nach teacht ar aid. Is ad na daoine daoi chosaint an bhean wailing. Fan amach n'o b'fheidir beidh se do bas thuar me chugainn!" She screams in a foreign tongue, her voice shattering the windows until the room gets caught in a tornado of a glass and debris. Her voices echos off the concrete walls, resonating deep within her soul. The Irish language drips off her lips with a confidence and fluency of a native speaker. She has no idea how she knew the words to say, but she doesn't have time to process it before she feels faint. A sense of vertigo causes her to sway back and forth with stars dancing in her vision right as she falls. Parrish catches her before she hits the ground, seeing as he's the only one that can take her scream without collapsing. Everyone is flat on the ground clutching at their bloody ears and moaning in pain.
The Ghost Riders are thrown back into the air where they disappear in a cloud of foggy, green smoke.
Lydia gasps when she opens her eyes slightly. Her throat is hoarse and burning, the remnants of the powerful scream that flowed out of her. Scott bends down and takes her hand and begins taking away some of her pain. He's worried about her, but she can see that his mind is somewhere else, or should she say, with someone else. She encloses her other hand around his fidgeting arm.
She gives him a reassuring smile. "We've got this, go find my best friend."
He shakes his head, but worry laces the brown of his eyes. "I can't leave you." He says, frowning at the beads of sweat that roll down her forehead.
A tight-lipped smile breaks through the grimace on her face. "I'm not asking, Scott. I can't lose another friend. If not for her or yourself, do it for me. First Allison, then Stiles, now Malia... I don't think I can survive another heart break." She explains through her tears, begging for him to listen.
He nods his head, pulling her into a hug. "You're not losing anyone tonight, Lydia." He moves over to Liam and tells him in a stern voice, "You watch over her, you hear me? You're going to be a great Alpha someday, and this is going to be one of your responsibilities.
Liam nods solemnly, looking up at Scott with puppy eyes. He's still so young, but he didn't want to disappoint Scott. There isn't a worse feeling in the world. He goes to stand by Parrish and helps Lydia to her feet, supporting her weight on his shoulders as the two carry her out of the apartment.
Scott gets up and moves over to the door. He tugs on Argent's arm, wanting the older man to accompany him. You never know when you'll need a good shot, and Argent was by far the best he had encountered besides maybe Braedan.
"I'm coming, too." Braedan states, shutting down any backlash with the determination that pierces through her dark eyes.
"Don't think you're leaving me out, she's my cousin after all." Derek chimes in, furrowing his brows.
"Mine too." Cora joins in, eyes flashing blue.
"And my sister." Jackson finishes, stepping up to add to the group. "What do you say, McCall? Ready to team up for old time sake?" He grins, flashing his pearly white teeth at Scott.
Scott grins at their exuberance. "Okay, lets go get our girl back."
The six run out of the apartment looking back at the rest of the group, hoping that splitting up would prove to work in their advantage for once.
Malia POV:
The last thing I remember is the scent of leather and hair gel when I looked up into the eyes of the devil himself, Theo Raeken. The bastard put a cloth soaked in wolfs-bane over my mouth. My vision swam before me, the smug smile on his face overshadowing the hints of regret in his eyes.
"I'm really sorry I had to do this." He had whispered before darkness flooded my senses.
No No No No NO.
Not again.
Not the dark. I can't fight my demons alone. Not without him.
Scott, where are you?
I wake up in a cold sweat with my hands chained to a dirty wall. The place smells like mildew and fecal matter, making my nose twitch in disgust. Theo looks up when he hears me stir and a low warning growl signals him to stay away.
I meet his eyes head on, "How are you here right now? You should be burning in hell like my bitch of a mother." I grit out. The growl in the back of my throat never dies down, it's a constant presence, reminding me never to let my guard down. Theo has the art of manipulation down to a tee. The psychopathic tendencies inside of him coexists annoyingly with his inner perfectionist that put together was able to tear my pack apart. He forced Lydia into a catatonic state and turned Liam against the pack. He pretended to be an ally when the whole time he was working with the Dread Doctors behind our backs.
He killed Scott... My Scott. And I'll never forget that.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. And man, he really had me fooled. The real punchline of the joke is that I actually thought that I had finally met someone else like me.
Theo presented this beautiful temptation that involved embracing darkness. He made killing seem like a necessity and made me desire that thrill again. No matter how much I hate what I did to my family, the animal inside me reveled in the blood and gore. The feeling had appealed to me in every deep, decaying part of my soul that yearned to not be afraid of the dark anymore. He told me he could teach me to turn back to my wild state, werecoyote to werecoyote. He was an expert liar. So good in fact that he may have started to believe his own lies that he'd spun.
He walks closer with a cocky twist of his lips. He was brave, I'll give him that. Stupid, though? I'll give him that, too. However, he bends down to my height and does something that shocks me.
He removes my chains.
Yep, stupid was right.
I lung at him and dig my claw deep into the side of his face leaving bloody trails down his cheek where missing pieces of flesh fall to the ground and cake underneath my finger nails. While that would usually disturb me, I couldn't care less right now. I am on a war path. I look at my handy work and a satisfied grin crosses my face.
Not so pretty anymore. Man, I hope this one leaves a scar.
With him caught off guard, I go at him again. I kick him in the stomach, sending him flying against the back wall. I straddle his waist and let out a string of punches to his face, feeling the skin tear and the bones give away underneath my hands.
It felt so good to hurt him. The strength of my anger even surprises me as I continue to kick, punch, and bite at any piece of him I can get my hands on.
"This is for betraying me, for shooting me, for hurting my friends, for killing Scott, for Stiles!" I yell before I stop, realizing what I just said. I back away from him, the blood painting my face and staining my hands as it drips to the ground.
"I didn't matter to me."
"Yeah well... It matters to me."
Images flash across my eyes. I'm in a car with Stiles, but somehow it seems like were on opposite sides of the world. His eyes bleed with remorse, pain, and self-loathing all hitting me at once. I remember now, seeing him look like there wasn't a single person in the world who could understand him. But I did, at least I thought so. My memories warp and now I'm in the Eichen House basement.
"You may not like me very much if I tell you."
"Try to remember that I'm a werecoyote that killed her own family. I won't judge, promise."
The memories move again like the flip of a camera, sifting back in forth so fast it makes my head spin. A years worth of memories dance across my eyes. Finally I'm back in the Hale Vault, a scruffy haired Stiles leans over me with a look of adoration shining in his eyes. He fingers my hair with the softest of touches, moving it out of my face where he caresses me and rubs his thumb over my tears.
"You're coming back, right?"
"Yeah... I'd never leave you behind."
My eyes go wide and I hear the gasp leave my mouth as my eyes well up with tears. One trails down my cheek, the stinging in my eyes blurring my vision. The memory hits me like a punch to the gut, all those old feelings winding up like a coil in my stomach and releasing without my permission.
I see him walking away and the image is starting to dissipate. He turns back to look at me one more time before he disappears behind the door.
Stiles, where are you going?
I fall to my knees, all the emotions and feelings and memories coming back like crashes of a tidal wave. They weren't all sad. Some of them we're really good. Quite a few involved the pack. Others even involved Scott. Him and Stiles had been best friends. And how ironic that all my memories fully recover the moment I was about to tempt fate, possibly killing Theo and breaking Scott's number one rule. Another tear slips down my face. And then two. And then three. There Stiles goes again, always saving me. When I felt myself teetering over the edge, he had always been there to pick me up again and tell me to try again. He really had been the link to my humanity. Maybe it's not the same as it was before, but he's still with me.
But even with this new knowledge to think over, it doesn't change anything.
When we get Stiles back, I'll still choose Scott. I feel it with every fiber of my being. That crooked jaw, toothy grin, and warm brown eyes couldn't be replaced in my heart. Stiles and I had our moments and I'll always cherish him. But Scott is my person. He makes me feel like I'm walking on sunshine every day. Looking at him, I know that I am loved and wanted. When he holds my hand, I can feel his emotions pouring into me. A connection like that comes around once in a lifetime. I would be an idiot to toss that aside.
Theo lays a pummeled, red mess in the corner of the dinky little room. I grab him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him hard to meet me. He groans in response which only makes my smile widen, "Sorry, I'm not known for being delicate."
He smirks, or at least what little he can with a chipped tooth and a split lip. "It's alright cupcake, I like it rough anyways."
I smack his head hard against the wall, causing him to grow delirious and throw up on the spot next to him. Some leaks onto his shirt and saliva cakes at the corner of his mouth. "You were saying, cupcake?" I sneer, watching the persona fall apart beneath his tired eyes.
"You should be thanking me, you know." He states, out of breathe.
I bark a laugh. "What in the world would I have to thank you for?"
He makes a move to touch the skin of my back but I hiss at him and he quickly removes his hand, knowing that if he wants to keep it, he better explain what's going on.
He coughs up black blood, spitting it out in the pile of throw up. "That scar on your back is infected." He says, pointing and motioning for me to turn around.
My stomach instantly drops. "How do you know about my scar, you perv. Did you undress me while I was unconscious?" I balk, feeling the need to hurl in disgust and anger. I hadn't even noticed that I wasn't wearing the same shirt as before. "What did you do me, Theo?" I scream, furious tears making paths down my face and staining my cheeks. The thought of what could have happened while I was out frankly scares the hell out of me. My body is the one thing that I have control over and the thought of it being defiled leaves my heart bounding and I can feel my skin starting to thicken into a hardening scar tissue. I'm slowly losing anything soft about me.
I look at Theo with wide eyes, praying that my suspicions aren't true. I don't feel any different, but that doesn't mean that it couldn't have happened.
Scott, please find me. I need you now more than ever.
Theo instantly realizes what I'm implying and is quick to reassure me. "Malia, oh my god, no. I would- I couldn't. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a rapist. I would never hurt you like that." He promises, eyes begging me to believe him. For the most part he seems sincere, no upticks of his heart beat or faltering of speech. Scott had taught me to look for all those things to know if someone was lying. That's why I'd gotten so good at reading him over the years.
When I find the confirmation I'm looking for, I turn away with heavy eyes as I wipe the pesky tears from my eyes. I attempt to lighten the mood with a lackluster joke to draw attention away from myself. "You know, you really shouldn't say God's name in vain." I mumble, remembering one of the few things my dad used to tell me when I was little. I used to think it was silly, not sure if there really even was a God. I'm still not sure, but I guess it's better to be safe then sorry.
He chuckles a low, deep laugh. "Actually, I'm an atheist."
I have to laugh at that. "Of course you are, that explains a lot. Honestly, I'm surprised you're not a satanist." I admit, only half joking.
He looks at me all serious. "I just said that I don't believe in God, not that I don't believe in the Devil. Hell is real and it's not a fun place to be. Hence, I'm making my walk of atonement and seeking any redemption I can find. If there is any to find." He notes, rubbing the stubble of his jaw.
"How did you know about my scar, Theo?" I ask hesitantly, waiting expectantly for him to fess up. I could handle whatever he told me, the alternative had shaken me to the core. There was nothing I feared more.
He clears his throat. "When you were struck with the Ghost Rider's whip, you were dying from an infection to the skin. The whip hit your scar and it ripped it open. You would have died if I hadn't done something. I had been hiding out in Derek's apartment for a while. He'd left it empty and no one had ever stopped by, it was easy to break into and the perfect hideout. Then I heard you guys enter and I fled to the shadows. I saw the whole fight go down."
I cut him off. "And you did nothing to help." I scoffed, rolling my eyes, "Typical, Theo. Always looking out for himself." I reminisce, all the different betrayals flashing through my brain. Luckily, the bullet wound hadn't scarred, too.
He dismisses my response, continuing on as if I'd never said anything. "Oh please, if I'd stuck my neck out for you guys, you all would still not trust me. With good reason, I'll admit. But I've changed. Burning in Hell changes a guy, and I mean that in the literal sense." He says.
My brow arches. "Yeah right, Theo Raeken capable of change? I trust you just about as far as I can throw you. I'm more than happy to test out that theory if you don't get to the point, by the way."
He smirks at my snarky attitude. "Man I've missed your fire, Malia. You were easily my favorite. I actually felt bad about hurting you. That's why I saved you. The green goo that got into your scar caused an infection from the poison within it. I cleaned it out the best that I could and patched you up with some gauze and herbs I acquired throughout my isolation since returning." He explains, gesturing to the bandage on my back. "It's only a temporary fix. The poison is still in your body, but I got most of it out. But over time it will come back. We need to get you to a hospital or Deaton's clinic so someone can look at you. If you don't get all of it out you will die Malia." He deadpans, having the audacity to look like he actually cares whether I live or die.
"Then why didn't you just alert the others. What's with the whole kidnapping fiasco?" I question.
His face turns somber and he looks more vulnerable then I ever thought he was capable of. "Maybe for once, I wanted to show you that I'm not all that bad. I have changed, Malia, and I'm going to prove it to you. Besides, I owed you one for the shooting incident." He says sheepishly, a small grin playing on his lips which causes him to wince at the split lip.
"What was it like... Hell, I mean?" I ask, honestly kind of fascinated to know what alternate dimension could evoke any kind of humanity in Theo.
"You don't want to know." He remarks, cutting off the conversation.
"You don't know what I want." I say bitterly.
He smirks. "Oh really, and why do you care?"
"Asking for a friend?" I supply, not putting in the effort to even sound remotely sincere.
"Is that what they call it these days?" He mocks, knowing the real reason I was asking. He's waiting for me to say something but I don't. He looks at me strangely. "Afraid you might wind up there someday?"
My neck snaps in his direction, hearing the words leave his mouth making my fears seem a little more real than before. My thoughts immediately go to my mom and Kylie. I didn't know if they had found peace or if there was even any peace to find. But I had this overwhelming fear that I would never see them again. That I would never get to tell them I'm sorry.
"It's okay, you know... To feel that way. But I think you're in the clear. Satan feeds on the bottom dwellers, I wouldn't worry too much." He says with subtle reassurance lacing his tone. He knows I don't trust him, but it seems like he's trying to comfort me. If making me sleep a little easier at night was his goal, it was a valiant effort but in the end it was futile. No one could save me from my sins.
What makes me any different from Theo?
Scott POV:
My hands lay flat against my sides, willing myself to keep them there and not punch the nearest tree. We've been out here for hours and there's no sign of Malia or Theo. Both of their scents faded out after a while ago, the wind carrying any trace away. My lips are chapped from wetting them so much. It's a habit I'd picked up from being around Malia so often.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the cigarette box I always keep with me just in case Malia is ever feeling a little antsy. I've never smoked one, but the numbing feeling in my bones is just itching for some kind of release. Hesitantly, I pull a white stick from the container and the spare lighter from my other pocket. And with just my luck, it's out of fluid. Deciding that I really needed the reprieve, I run the edges of the cigarette against the tree bark, making an instantaneous flame. It licks at the tip, the black circle of ash burning hot and red.
I bring it to my lips, inhaling the nicotine and pretending that it's her lips. When it gets to my lungs, I let out a series of coughs as I begin choking on the smoke that I'm not used to being in my body. After a minute I try again, this time trying to mimic the way Malia does it. Within a couple tries, I finally get it right. I take a pull from the cigarette and I feel a little closer to Malia. I'm still not a fan of it, but it does it's job to calm me.
"There has to be something we're missing." Derek notes, looking around the spacious woods as if Malia will just appear out of thin air like she's playing hide and seek.
I put the cigarette out with my boot and survey the area. Jackson was off looking with Cora while Argent and Braeden went in the opposite direction.
We checked her coyote den, her house, the Hale Vault, the high school, and any abandoned house in a 10 mile radius of Beacon Hills. It's like she's vanished into thin air.
"Are you sure you smelled Theo, Scott? We've looked everywhere and nothing has come up. I didn't recognize his scent because I've never met the guy and neither has anyone else besides Braedan, but she's not a werewolf. What if the Ghost Riders really did make her disappear? Derek suggests but treads lightly.
He knows that Malia and I have gotten close. And I'm sure by now he can tell that we are more than just friends. It didn't take a genius to figure out that I'm crazy about her. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone knew.
Cora and Jackson meet back here around the same time Braedan and Argent arrive.
"We've got nothing." Cora declares, frustration evident in her furrowed brows.
Jackson wore a similar expression, as well as Derek. Malia did that a lot, too. Maybe it was a Hale thing.
"Argh!" I yell at no one in particular, "It was Theo, I know it. It's been too quiet around here lately. It started with the Ghost Riders showing up but I had a feeling like something else was coming for us. Something always does. We have to keep looking, Malia wouldn't give up on us so I'm not giving up on her." I huff at their crestfallen expressions, stalking off on my own to search.
"Scott, you can't do this alone!" Braedan yells after me. "Maybe we should regroup in the morning and try again when we're at peak performance. It won't do us any good to walk blindly into a possible threat."
"This is Malia we're talking about! Don't you guys get it?" I roar, my fangs elongating and curling over my bottom lips. I can feel the redness of my eyes filling the irises, making me feel infinitely stronger. "If you guys want to go home and sleep it off, fine by me. But I'm not leaving until I get Malia back." I growl, turning on my heel and leaving them all behind.
"Don't let your feelings for her cloud your judgment, Scott. You're still the True Alpha and you have a responsibility to your pack to take care of yourself, too. I promise first thing in the morning we can come looking again. Just please come with us." Argent tries to reason, and for a moment I consider it.
My voice lowers to a quiet whisper. "I promised her she'd never be alone again. I'm breaking that promise if I stop looking." I deadpan, hating the treacherous tears that form in my eyes.
"You're only hurting her more by setting yourself up to fall into trouble. Do you really want us to have to tell Malia that you were too stubborn to listen to us that you wound up dead? That would kill her. I think that's a little worse than breaking a promise if she never gets to see you again." Argent states.
He has a point, I know this. But I'm so worried about her. She's probably scared and alone. And what if it's dark wherever she is? She hates the dark. But I have to remember that she's not helpless. She can take care of herself even better than I can.
With a heavy sigh, I turn back around and pace back and forth in indecision before going back over to the group.
"As soon as the sun is up I'll be back out here, with or without you guys. I hope you'll join me." I dismiss before I trek off and out of the woods all the way back home.
Third Person POV:
Malia and Theo talk for a little while longer until the smallness of the room makes her begin to feel claustrophobic. She's tired and weak. The infection in her scar had started to get worse, spreading throughout her system. Her body is a paradox, feeling hot and cold at the same time and she wonders how that can be.
Theo is still too weak to move. She had taken a lot out of him in order to lessen his chances of killing her. But it looks like the infection is going to kill her anyways.
She thinks of Scott. She thinks of all the plans they made that will probably never happen now. She likes to think that he'll miss her, but she's sure he'll get over her eventually. It's not like he loves her or anything. They haven't gotten there yet, would never get there. In a way, she muses over the idea that the love was already there, festering beneath her skin. Geez, a cigarette would make dying ten times more bearable.
She rolls her eyes at her inner monologue.
"I can't believe I'm really dying in a musty, old room and the last thing I'm ever going to see is your fucked up face, Raeken." She moans out through the pain, using what little energy she had to chuckle.
"Ouch Tate, this is your handy work in case you forgot. But quit your flirting and save your strength, you're going to need it. You're not dying in here, especially after I did all that work to fix you up. I still have a redemption to achieve, you know. It's not all about you." He jokes, trying to find the silver lining in the terrible situation they are stuck in.
She would rip his tongue out for the flirting comment, but she'd already roughened him up enough. Besides, the pain in her chest just from laughing made her feel like her insides were being sliced apart by razor blades.
Her mumbles come out in garbled sounds, "Theo... Scott- tell Scott. Tell him that I'm sorry. Tell him- tell him that I tried to be strong for him. Maybe I'm not as tough as he thought I was." She says, the words trail together and she cuts herself off when sharp pain claws at her back.
Malia can feel her scar stretching apart, literally being ripped from the inside out by the poison that is threatening to burn her alive. Her breathes are labored, becoming shallower by the second. "Theo... I can't- I can't hold on much longer. Promise me you'll tell him." She demands with lots of effort, sienna eyes fixing him with a look of pure trust.
What other choice did she have? She'll never see Scott again and Theo is her only hope at getting one last message to her almost-boyfriend before she withers away.
"You're not dying on me, Tate." He vows with conviction, finding the strength to push himself up off the floor. He stumbles over, grabbing her around the waist and hoisting her into his arms bridal style. He loses his footing for a moment but regains it quickly, determined steps moving out the door. Her arms hang around his neck, clinging to him to the best of her ability.
He runs as fast as he can towards town. He had taken her to one of his old hideouts in the town over. He's started to heal a lot faster, the adrenaline and the sound of her fainting heartbeat propelling him forward. Even though he's out of breath, he talks to her to keep her awake.
"You know, I always wanted to be like Batman growing up. He was my favorite superhero as a boy. I liked that he didn't have superpowers and that he created his own power through science and engineering. I think I got the dark and brooding part right, but I think I fell a little short of the hero part." He admits, watching as a thin smile stretches across her dry lips.
"A boy with a dream. That would make for an interesting new superhero movie. I can see the headlines now." She jokes and hacks up a long, wet cough.
Theo runs faster.
"You think I'd make a good hero, Malia?" He asks playfully, but in reality he really wanted to know. Could he keep up this whole good guy thing or would he soon discover that the Dread Doctors had taken anything and everything good about him?
"I think it would be hard. You don't exactly have the best track record. I'd say you favor the Joker a bit more." She teases.
He chuckles at her response, knowing it's probably the closest to the truth. He also realizes that this is the most honest conversation they have ever had with each other.
He finally reaches the city limits of Beacon Hills, crossing the border and sprinting to Deaton's clinic with the dying girl in his arms. The Doc was just about to close up when Theo knocks furiously against the door, alerting Deaton of his presence. The doctor catches a glimpse of Malia getting paler by the second and rushes her into the back.
"What happened?" He asks frantically, rolling Malia over to her side and seeing the grotesque, greenish black slab of flesh that lines the expanse of her back.
He shuffles around the room, grabbing many different herbs and remedies off the shelves before thrusting them into Theo's arms. He points to the first cream, "Apply this all over the infected area, this should stop the swelling and contain the infection so it doesn't spread anywhere else. Then put a layer of this on top of it." He says, gesturing to a container of thick, salmon-colored cream. "This should slow down the poison. Do this and I'm going to go call Scott."
Theo visibly pales at the mention of the True Alpha that he had murdered in cold blood. He hadn't seen him since he fell away into the hole in the ground leading to Hell. Scott had witnessed his damnation and didn't bat an eyelash. It took a lot to make Scott lose all hope in somebody and Theo fell short of all expectations. He had an inkling that Scott would be all too eager to send him straight back.
Theo washes his hands and begins applying the salve to her skin, careful not to hurt her. If her cries of pain were any indication, he wasn't doing a very good job. Her screams turn into softer moans of pain until she doesn't make any sounds at all. Having become desensitized to it by now, she lays defeated against the lab table. Her pallor has improved a bit, a soft pink blush warming up the pools of her cheeks. Her eyes have a little bit of their luster back instead of the dead, dull brown orbs that stared back at him earlier. He moves the hair out of her face that sticks to her forehead and the back of her neck, removing the hair tie from her wrist before pulling her medium length locks into a pony tail.
The coolness on the back of her neck feels like a little piece of Heaven and Malia lets out a little sigh of approval, casting him an appreciate glance. Finally, he had done something right.
Just as the thought hits him, something or should he say someone, hits him even harder. Scott bounds into the room like a blood hound sniffing out a fresh kill and hoists me up in the air by his shirt. Theo's back collides with the glass cabinet, the tiny shards splintering his skin and opening up the wounds Malia had graced him with earlier.
"I saved her life." He stuttered out, quick to defend himself and his face from anymore damage.
Scott hit Theo square in the jaw and knocked the wind out of him, a sickening crunch echoing off the walls of the tiny clinic. The chimera falls to the ground when Scott releases him and rushes over to Malia.
Melissa is in tow, pulling up Malia's shirt before deciding to cut it down the middle when she sees that parts of the fabric have stuck to the exposed flesh. She goes to work applying the different creams Deaton had instructed, a gentleness to her movements that Theo was positive he could never muster even with years of practice.
Scott bends down and cups Malia's face between his large hands, running his thumbs over her cheeks.
"You're okay." He breathes, relief and the aftershocks of terror changing on his face.
Her eyes flutter open. She squints through the disorientation and hears his voice cocooning around her, yet it sounds so far away. And she sees his face, her Scott. His eyes seem warmer than usual. The concern on his face makes her breath get caught in her throat. And the dimples that peek out of his crooked smile hits her like a dream and she realizes that yes... This is it. She is finally home.
"Scott..." She mumbles with a sleepy smile. "Are you real?"
Author's Note: Hey guys, btw the words Lydia said were in Irish. It roughly translates to, "Leave and don't come back. These people are under the protection of the wailing woman. Stay away or perhaps it will be your deaths I predict next!" I really hope you guys liked this chapter. Leave some reviews and critiques! I know there wasn't tons of Scalia in this chapter but I hope to parts I provided were enjoyable and fun to read.
