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Track 01 - The Theory of Relativity by Stars
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{Tuesday: Morning - BHHS, City Central}
"It's called a round-robin," Scott explained.
"Like the bird," with her head propped up on her chin, Allison leaned into the conversation.
"Sort of I guess," Lydia spun back around. Her boots made an authoritative tap-tap that grabbed their attention. "It's a thing kids do."
"I thought it was a hotel chain?" Allison titled her head up, blinking into Lydia shadow.
"Didn't you have any other kids around you growing up?" from beside her Scott, he bumped knees with her, and she turned around to smile, still a bit confused.
"No, I travelled."
"It's okay, I thought it was a chain restaurant," Isaac raised his hand meekly form where he sat one bench lower.
"Oh, what's your excuse? Raised in a box?" bit out Lydia, hands on her hips as she stood center.
"No," Isaac grinned up at her looking a bit too devilish for anyone's taste, "I actually had a pretty large family."
"I thought you were an orphan?" Scott sensitively added after a moment.
"I am," Isaac smiled over at Scott, a little less wide.
"Is this important?" Lydia sighed and dropped to sit on Allison's other side.
"Who knows, you might quiz later." Scott joked. Lydia glared at him, until he felt the need to ease off an inch. Allison shook her head and gave Scott a little smile that meant 'you're doing fine and then he pushed on.' "So, a round-robin; basically, Isaac will confirm to my Mom I'll study at his house then sleep over because have early drills and he could use the ride."
Lydia picked up where Scott left off, "I'll tell my Mom I'm staying with Allison's, Allison you tell your parent's you're staying with me-"
"And Isaac?"
"Isaac doesn't have to tell anyone anything because he lives with wolves," Lydia snapped.
Allison tried to hide her laugh behind her hand instead it came out as a small snort. Scott might have tried to glare at Lydia in warning to tread lightly instead it came across as a look of a man with trapped gas. If she had stepped into another topic no one wanted to say anything about not that she had reason to feel bad.
"Funny," Isaac smirked at her, in the first sign of genuine warmth between the two and Lydia returned it. Her nose even wrinkled a little at the end.
"Very tactical," Allison thought aloud.
"What's the point?" Isaac nitpicked.
"'The point' my friend?" Scott said smugly, bragging to Isaac and Allison alike "is we steal away a night."
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Track 02 - Circumambient by Grimes
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{Afternoon - Argent's House, Westwood Neighborhood}
In Beacon Hill the winter weather best described as 'capricious'. The air remained steady and dry, but the sun beamed down like a hammer, especially during the zenith. On some days the sun's rays were hot enough to bake a potato. And yet you had the wind, brisk enough to shatter bone. God forbid it would rain. Nothing startled SoCal's more than rain, with their roads so dried up from old ignored grease stains and ignored tire ware, one drizzle and the roads were like the roller coaster Space Mountain.
Fortunately, it seemed the winter had passed the fickler bits. A "Fort Exploring Club" didn't seem too preposterous. Stupid, yes but it was still feasible. Why "Fort Exploring"?
"After Sunday, my family are watching all my texts now," Allison explained in a rush as she shoved her clothes into an overnight bag.
After Lydia had appropriately schmoozed Mr. & Mrs. Argent with regards Allison's lowered grades and her Mother's approval that the girls should spend more time together, with some added finagling Allison was virtually shoved out of the front door. As long as they got ready and left quickly, they wouldn't be questioned, and things would stay golden.
Waiting, Lydia bounced at the foot of Allison's bed. "It isn't really far from the truth though," she grinned. With Allison in the lead of their expedition she felt at ease. Lydia had experience camping and hiking, she even had survival skill but that didn't hold up to her nerves when it came to those same damn woods. Her spine curled every time she so much as drove past, when she walked near, she felt watched, drawn toward, manipulated and virtually haunted by it. With Allison beside her though, preferably armed, it wasn't quite so severe.
"I wouldn't exactly call us a club," Allison smirked at Lydia while she switched her from a cropped leather daytime jacket to durable raw khaki jacket. Explorers outfit. Hunters uniform.
"An expedition?" Lydia offered up.
"A hunt," Allison admitted with a grin synching her tall wedge boots into place.
"Now that," Lydia's pursed her lips and looked on, unconvinced "definitely sounds tactical."
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Track 03 - Rivers by Kankouran
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{Later - Sheriff's Station, City Central}
Following Allison's direction, Scott returned to the Sheriff's house. Evidently, the Sheriff Stilinski kept choice investigatory files at home. This meant before they went into the woods, they would need to get a more precise location of the 'dead body' than Lydia's vague recollection.
He parked his bike out of sight, outside of the community and figured walking through backyards would be the easiest way to sneak through unseen. If the spare key was kept by the garage like he remembered than breaking in wouldn't even have to be an option. He should have checked the front of the house than he might have noticed he Sheriff's SUV obscured under the shade of a tree.
Considering the Sheriff's reputation as a workaholic it's reasonable to find him sat at the kitchen table, staring on bemusedly as Scott tip-toed along.
When Sheriff assumed he was a punk kid trying to prank the house and Scott smelled alcohol on his breath. Scott walked in, sat at the kitchen table, and admitted having come over the night before with Lydia. The Sheriff hadn't asked one question, but Scott over-explained how sentimental it felt as he walked through the hallways, and how he didn't want to leave. He tacked on that he hadn't meant to be disrupting he just meant- and then drew a blank.
The Sheriff smiled a thin-lipped smile and handed Scott a beer. He hadn't many Father-Son moments throughout his life. Those he could remember he shared with the Sheriff. Scott drank the beer while the Sheriff drank Bourbon and another and one more. Any guilt over his supernaturally high alcohol tolerance was assuaged by the sight of new evidence reports on the table. He committed to memory what details he could for recognizable features on the Preserves landscape. But once he saw photos, he recognized that showed proof of a Werewolf, obscured footprints, with extended claw marks through solid stones and black blood on tufts of animal hair; that evidence he knew he couldn't leave behind. When the Sheriff drifted off Scott shoved the photos down his jeans.
Just as he tried to make a polite excuse to leave the Sheriff mentioned Natalie, how worried she was, how he knew what that's like, to lose your kid. Scott hesitated and sat back down, ignoring the discomfort of folded photographs. Before Scott could ask for specifics the Sheriff cut him off; he clasped Scott's hands over the table where the photos should have been. He gave Scott a penetrating look and slurred a little when he said, "don't you disappear on us, kid. You got me?"
"Sure," promised Scott and meant it, even though he knew the Sheriff wouldn't remember it. He offered to clear away the dishes and took out the bottle of Bourbon with him as he did.
The Sheriff thanked him in a reply that was barely words. Afterward Scott decided to wash all the dishes like an act of attrition, he turned and found Sheriff had fallen asleep with his head pillowed on his folded arms.
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Track 04 - The Crooked Kind by Radical Face
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{Sheriff's Station, Front Desk}
At the Sheriff's Station Lydia hovered at the front desk and theorized how to be brief and just charming enough. Distraction, only a distraction. Allison and Isaac only needed a few moments and Lydia could play 'Nice'. There would be only one officer on duty; Allison found out ahead of time through her family's resources. So, when Lydia strolled in with loose flowing hair, bold lipstick and short skirt, it wasn't suspicious considering her frequent recent presence with law enforcement. Quite possibly she found another body. That wouldn't have been unlikely.
Deputy Parrish smiled and greeted her officiously; both asking and answering her in one sentence.
"How can I help you, Lydia? I'm sorry I can't talk about those victims you uncovered if you're curious-"
She didn't like it when people caught her off guard. He was already making it harder for her to play 'Nice'. She narrowed her eyes, placed the small cardboard container on the counter and figured that was an answer in itself.
"-Did you bring coffee?"
"Actually," she said sweetly. "I went out to buy me coffee. I just brought you one too."
'Nice' she sometimes had difficulty with. 'Charming', no problem. As Parrish's eyes darted back and forth between the container and her bright eyes so that he hadn't noticed Isaac and Allison slip pass. Lydia hardly noticed them herself, flirting was every bit as interesting as espionage.
"To make up for the lousy coffee the other night," she snatched up one cup and pushed the other toward him. "And to show my gratitude, I guess."
"You didn't have to buy me coffee. We have coffee here in the Station."
"And the gratitude?" She pushed further.
"You didn't have to do that either," he accepted the cup. "It's part of the job. But it's good to see you. How're you feeling?" he smelled the coffee the way people smelled flowers. It made Lydia smile.
"I'm still having trouble sleeping," she answered and popped the lid of her coffee cup. She sipped slowly while peering over the cap, an urge for him to speak.
"I hear coffee helps," he slurped intentionally loud. Can someone slurp sarcastically, because if you could that's what he'd done.
"You're a riot. Maybe I came to check on you. It was a pretty garish scene. You sure you're not having any nightmares?"
"I'm not. Not over this."
Lydia said nothing, drawing people in wasn't a skill that needed words. It could be done with a shift in position, a lean onto a desk, a tilt of the head. An appealing forte with a varying aptitude. Deputy Parrish had no problem at all keeping Lydia captivated.
"But I used to get nightmares after the Army," he eased towards her onto the counter. His voice became calmer. Not the same officious calm he used when he ushered her back to the car the night on the bridge. A more intimate tone, like under different circumstances they could have been friends discussing findings. They would confide in one another, "I'd see my buddies that died when I closed my eyes at night."
"What did you do?" She had stopped drinking and listened.
"Talk to them," he smiled coolly, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "When else are they going to get a chance to say something? D'you having nightmares?"
Lydia shook her head in negation during a sip. She licked her lips thoughtfully then answered, "Only when I'm asleep."
His brow lifted a tick of acknowledgment, but he didn't pry, "I should say thanks."
"It's just coffee."
"I meant the other night," he leaned further forward, like conspirers do. Lydia met him part way. "You were a big help. Plus, we were able to connect them to extended family in Texas."
"I know my leather..." Lydia felt herself out of her element suddenly. "That sounded less naughty in my head." She dropped her eyes, and finally noticed in her purse, her phone was alight but for how long? Had Allison texted the "ALL CLEAR" five seconds or five minutes ago?
"You okay getting home?"
Lydia glanced up from under long lashes, from her phone into sharp green eyes, flashed a smile and handed him her empty cup.
"I know the way. No need for a police escort tonight, but I'll let you know in the future."
"Goodnight, Lydia."
"Goodnight, Deputy."
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Track 05 - Count Me In (feat. Thomas Meighan) by Dark Horses
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{Sheriff's Station, Sheriff's Office}
"How do you know how to do this?"
"Shh."
"Ok... but you know what you're doing?"
Allison glanced over her shoulder. Isaac followed at a crouch; it was a wonder his form at least half a foot taller than her squished under the windowsill.
"Yes, I know that not getting caught means being silent. I figured that didn't need explaining, Isaac."
"Oh," he looked to the floor, efficiently chastised.
For an effective distraction Lydia flirted with the officer at the desk, and they recognized the signs; she had him caught in her web. Allison raised her hand and gave a tiny wave for Isaac to follow. They were like a shadow, silent and passing along the walls through the corridor of the Station.
They didn't stand until the door click shut with them on the other side of it. Allison slipped the keys back into her jacket pocket.
The curiosity on Isaac's face looked about to burst into a tirade so Allison cut it off. She commanded him to watch the door while she searched the room for the papers she needed. Scott had given the head's up that the Sheriff would be out, which would make her job easier. But it hasn't provided her any more time to get it done. Isaac pressed himself flat against the door frame, intense and professional. She shook her head amused at his seriousness.
"My family is helping the Station with some investigations," she explained quietly while she circled the desk, eyeing its contents. "It gives them temporary access to department facilities like the Sheriff's office and the records room."
"Your family just gave you the keys?"
"Oh no, that I swiped," she grinned while sifting through the papers on the desk. Her expression flipped when she caught sight of a folder in shelving compartment behind Isaac's head. She rushed over to him, pulled it out and leafed through it.
"The location and date match when Lydia found the body," Isaac read off the exterior of the folder.
Allison snapped it closed to prevent him from snooping. She pointed to the shelving compartment on the wall. "It's out boxed for the mornings closed cases."
"What does that mean?" Isaac whispered, his tone kept darker suddenly.
"For us?" Allison stared up at him and wondering if he took this too seriously or not seriously enough. She jutted her chin toward the door and implied they should head out. "It means we're going and we're taking this with us."
He hadn't even opened the door more than a few inches before Allison dropped to the ground and pulled Isaac to follow by his collar. With a point she sent him toward the back of the Station while she tried to lock the door. As much as she tried holding the folder prevented her from gripping the knob properly which caused her to take more than twice as long. Isaac offered to hold the folder. At first, she hesitated but they were pressed for time and Lydia's charm wouldn't work forever. Trusting him not to open it, she handed it over and watched as he disappeared around the corner. She caught up with him at the back exit of the Station, a small exit by lock-up where some of the officers poke their heads out to smoke. Since the officers turn off the fire alarm often enough it wouldn't be suspicious if they left it detached.
Around the corner, they coasted out of the parking lot with the car's lights off before Allison pulled into the shoulder and texted Lydia with the all-clear. Although she wouldn't, all she wanted to do was yank the files from Isaac's hand.
"Thanks for being a lookout," she said sweetly.
With eyes alight Isaac smiled in return. He gave her back the folder without hesitation.
"Does it have like official government secrets in it?" he stretched in his seat, his long legs had to adjust and readjust.
"Nope, just maps." she lied, her hair fell forward hiding her eyes as she stuffed the folder deep into her bag.
"That was awesome!" he crowed, and the ends of his mouth curled up.
Allison sat back and watched him.
"I mean, terrifying, completely terrifying... but kind of awesome," he tried a calmer voice and finally settling in his seat.
Her face scrunched in amused scrutiny, her arms crossed her chest.
"I've never done anything like that before. Have you?"
Allison bit her lip; another lie would be too obvious this time around. She instead righted herself and turned the car on.
"Let me drive you home at least," she offered. It was as if she stomped out a flame, his eyes dimmed, and smile faded slightly.
"Sure," he said. "Sure. Drive toward the Aires West."
Allison side-eyed him through the mirror and thought to herself 'who's lying now'?
Sure, as shit, once they reached the outskirts of the Spaulding closed community, Isaac made an excuse that she shouldn't drive him directly in (something about Noise Disturbance Ordinance) for him to head out on foot. Because of her visits with Jackson' she knew the ordinance was true but also knew it wasn't that strict. After shelving that thought, she refocused on meeting Scott and Lydia before morning.
If she read the Sheriff's report correctly, which of course she had, the paperwork revealed the crime-scene (being declared and incidental death by animal mauling) would be released in the morning to an independent cleaning company (conveniently owned by Argents Itl.) If they didn't get there before her family did, they would never be able to keep their friend Stiles from being hunted like a common criminal.
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Track 06 - Where the Fence is Low by LIGHTS
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{Dusk - The Beacon Hills Preserve}
Squeezed into Lydia's VW Beetle was the scariest of all transportation options. There was no way Scott could get access to his Mom's car since she took it to work. Allison preferred to have access to one of her families all-terrain vehicles, but it would have brought too much attention if she went back to the house to take one. This left them heading together into the woods with Lydia's tiny car.
Lydia loved her tiny car, and she fretted over every ding and scratch, a fact they knew which brought an odd levity to the drive. Despite their nervousness, Lydia's high-maintenance back seat driving kept a humor high, while Allison remembered her 'intense driving' training and Scott's keen eyesight helped. They followed the maps easier than expected.
Scott pointed in the dimness toward the greenery west, off the path into the dark. They drove near the intersection where a creek passed under the road, where the local High School and University students trained countless time. Where Scott had gotten attacked and bitten that one time.
"There," he noted. Neither sad nor scared, just a sort of nod in recognition. Lydia eased back in her seat and wondered if she would carry the same dignity if she remembered her missing week. If not, would she be able to fake it?
"I found you right here," Allison said, her face turned from open concern to a cheeky grin, "and I put you in my car and I wrapped you up and took you to my bed."
Lydia rolled her eyes and reminded "and there is where I went into the woods and found a dead body." She leaned forward between the two front seats, ensuring to block whatever awkward lovebird moment was occurring. "This is more than a suspicious incident. They say twice makes it a pattern."
They didn't want to drive directly into the Preserve which meant taking extra (stupidly dangerous) measures, but they continued, through the foliage and by some miraculous effort (unfortunately for Lydia's nerves) mounted a few bumps and moved onto the jogging path. Allison drove as Lydia's instincts directed until they could go no farther on 4-wheels.
The temperature had changed.
"It's warmer now," Allison rolled down the window. Although the sun had begun rising, it barely pierced orange through the grey, a mist made it even harder to see. Harder to see but not impossible. It wasn't just warmer; it was 'Not January in Beacon Hills' warm. After they'd parked, it was the stillness that was scarier than the trip. A woods should move with creatures, there had to be a cause to that stillness.
Discomforted, Lydia shifted out of her wool coat and pillowed propped it under her to see further. The leaves around created shapes of eyes and hands in the seeping mist, she stared it down in full knowledge that figment people weren't what looked back. A Monster, something possibly worse than police officers and then there was Stiles.
Allison was the first one out of the car; she collected her compound bow and an over-sized quiver 'just in case' from the trunk of the car. Scott looked impressed, Lydia looked relieved.
After a glance Scott nodded as Lydia looked toward him; there weren't words to describe his instinct that someone supernatural was nearby. Whether friend or foe he couldn't decipher, and he didn't want to get anyone's hopes up. He pointed in the direction where he sensed it strongest.
Lydia asked, "does it seem anything like the backpack?"
"The backpack had dirty socks, a pair of...uhm, and a pair of jeans. A notebook but I didn't-", he shook his head in defeat. Lydia gave him a faint smile of appreciation.
After sifting through the files collected combined with the crime photos Scott got, Allison noticed the particular markings and her instinct said to move South to South East, toward direction of the body and along the creek. Despite her insight, Scott's instinct told him to head toward the hideaway fort, South West. Given their limited time they would have to split up the party. Surely, it would be safe since at all times they would only be a few minutes from one another.
"It just makes sense," she started although no one argued, "we have two locations; I need to inspect the scene to see if there are inconstancies between the crime photos. Maybe your friend Stiles went back there? Or worse, the murderer? Plus taking the backpack and stealing some photos isn't enough if we can't disturb the evidence before my family gets here. We're going to need to split up." Her voice trailed. She didn't have to explain, because without realizing it they'd been following her leadership for weeks. They trusted her and she would rather die, no, she would rather kill than let anything happen to them. "We're on a time limit, not just because of cleanup but because we've got to somehow get this Beetle back down that trail before sunrise."
"Yes sir," Scott grinned.
"You think I'm kidding," Allison placed hand on his arm, "if you're not back in 2 hours I'm coming for you." The tremor in her voice must have conveyed something dangerous and Scott's mouth opened in a little 'oh' but his eyes lit up in excitement.
"Got you," his voice was steady.
"Good," she grinned.
They didn't discuss why Isaac was excluded. It was an unspoken agreement; he didn't warrant being part of this. The Allison's shinning bright eyes promised to keep Scott's secrets. The squeeze from Scott's hand when he helped Lydia from the backseat promised to keep faith. With a sigh and a nod Lydia glanced between the two, the promised to keep trust.
When Scott used his unnatural speed in front of Lydia for the first time and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand. As Allison came beside her, put a hand on her forearm and implored her to stay in the car. That's when Lydia concluded, a delayed and obvious conclusion -'Allison knew everything.'
Nothing had fazed Allison. Anyone else might have felt a betrayal but Lydia saw a challenge Allison had unintentionally laid down; she tossed her hair over her shoulder and marched ahead into the woods. Confused but stunned, Allison shook her head and marched one step behind her.
"Lydia, what's going on?" Allison's concern exceeded Lydia's unpredictable mood. Things were already intense.
"What's going on is we're going on a high stakes mission and while Scott has super-senses and abilities, you are dressed as an assassin carrying stolen spy documents, but I only have voices in my head. As a race to see who's the craziest who do you think is going to win?"
"I wouldn't be out here if I thought this was crazy," she insisted.
Mid-step, Lydia swung around to face her, Allison stood still. Lydia's expression looked unguarded, as if she meant to say something but after a pause, she gave a slow nod. Wherever she stood in her conflict, Allison couldn't reach it. That didn't mean she couldn't continue to stay beside her best-friend, take her hand and do follow whatever it took to keep her safe. She had made a promised.
What Allison would once again discover is that a promise made, is not a promise easily kept. What started out as an easy march became a hurdle when Lydia became distracted by what she thought was a laugh on the wind, then transformed into a race with a shadow. A single side-step pulled Allison from Lydia, then an opened a rift on the breeze echoed loud enough it obscured sound but was harsh enough it covered up their tracks. In a shift of Beacon Hills' capricious weather Allison and Lydia were divided.
It is an ironic habit, despite how clever or aware of the absurdity, everyone runs faster when lost.
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Track 07 - Follow by Crystal Fighters
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The crime scene photos had been pretty gruesome. Scott had only ever seen a dead body in his nightmares, but he didn't flinch to see it in the photos. He felt like he should have. Lydia hadn't looked at them at all, she only looked toward the woods. And Allison had been ferocious and unaffected, he wondered if her families work in security had desensitized her.
Either way he couldn't help but feel a little out of his element.
Allison said it felt warm. Lydia said it seemed still. Those words paled in comparison to what he felt. The woods felt devoid of life, like no aurora would sooner touch it than twilight would. But Scott figured it wouldn't seem that way to anyone other than a Werewolf. Well, probably.
He moved through the woods quickly at first, then slower, then cautious as all hell. The nearer he got to where he suspected Stiles' Fort the more, he sensed several people. Except they had no sound or smell or proof of people. Just a vague impression of people, like the anticipation of when you walk into a room and it's a second before you realize everyone is about to jump out from behind the couches and scream "Surprise! Happy Birthday!" only this might be "Surprise! Sheriff's department! You're under arrest for obstruction of justice and lying to your Mom, Again!"
Okay, maybe not the last one but without the ability to focus he couldn't move on. It was impossible to figure out which impulse to trust. Better than that, sitting and waiting gave him one thing; access to Stiles' Fort hideaway. Without realizing Scott had tripped and landed right at the entrance of it. Not very gracefully at that. He wasn't sure which had the bigger bruise his head or his heart when he realized Stiles' had cleared his belongings out.
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Track 08 - Starry Eyed by Angel Haze
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It had not only been a rite of passage but an obligation to direct Hunting parties among the 'Argent' family. Allison was not only brilliant at it, but she reveled in it but when personal stakes were at risk Hunters became jaded. She was beginning to understand why. It disrupted focus when the value of what's at risk was personal, and Allison found her perfect strategy repeatedly ruined. In fact, despite Scott and Lydia's claims to not get along, Allison would lay even money they would have gone on this expedition without her. Although she could only imagine how much worse it would have gone then.
With each calculated step she monitored her breathing, neither too fast from excitement nor slow from cold. Every step furthered their goal, she reminded herself. And when she found the first coil spring trap underbrush, she realized the Sheriff's department must have placed them around to keep the crime scene clear of wildlife. When uncovered the second trap less than a yard off she realized how vital it was to get hold of her friends. The Hunt went from finding a single missing person to finding three missing people surely wasn't outside of her scope of expertise.
After quick consideration, Allison believed her friends knew how to deal with tight spots: Scott's instinct might avoid the traps, or he would be powerful enough to heal. But Lydia was another matter. Allison reached for her cell phone and started to dial.
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Track 09 - Run by AIR
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As Lydia hurried through brambles, drawn forward to a clear dirt path for her made by dizzying colors. Her speed picked up and up. She walked with assertiveness and didn't stumble but in her head, was a tornado of her inertia wrecking her senses. The sound of laughing children drowned out everything, she felt her skin turn to marble and became impervious to the elements, then she only smelled berries and sun, everything summer.
The children, she trusted because they were familiar, and they teased and chased, and she remembered that game. Following these phantoms would end in laughing, tears and exhaustion although she knew if she told anyone about this, she would be sent away to Eichen House. But how guilty could she be blamed to want to tag along to a time when the worst outcome was "you're it!"
In the temperate woods, running blindly and innocently she feared for nothing. Until the vision abandoned her, it snapped like a twig and her natural senses returned. Alone, in the pale dawn light, miles from anything familiar and frozen with a coil spring wolf trap triggered underfoot.
'Remain immobile,' Lydia's first clear thought since she had left the car. 'Keep calm and even breaths', were her second thoughts. Her third, she prayed could 'find her cell phone'.
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Track 10 - Youth (Love Thy Brother Remix) by Daughter
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When a buzz burrowed through his mind everything went to hell and Scott believed there should have been an agreement for radio silence. At least that's what they did in the spy films. He regretted not asking about those rules explicitly when his Werewolf hearing was assaulted by Lydia's cell-phone ring. It sounded as near as if someone placed it inside of his skull. Scott stumbled mid-run, pin-wheeling into a lump. He rolled onto his back and tried to get the stars out of his eyes.
While stunned he listened and realized he could Lydia inhale sharply, her fingers falter and the phone slip from her grasp and the wretched whimper that followed. Far away at an equal and parallel distance to the N. West, he heard Allison, her heart hammer in her chest. He heard her fingers tap at the phone, tap again and again. Only Lydia did not pick up. Allison begged her to while Lydia's breath hitched as she tried not to lose it. Swearing, Allison finally gave up and demanded to no one, demanded of Lydia "she better be OK!" as she moved aggressively onto another tactic.
Scott let go of a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Their connection was the first clear sense he felt through the mist, and he had to hold onto that thread. He hated to admit it, but he had to abandon the search. Whatever phantom possibility he could track Stiles was nothing compared to his actual friends in need. His exercised tugging on the thread in his mind, reaching for his friends fearing it would be too late. Outside of his frenzied dreams, he had never heard things over great distances before, not with such clarity. It was as if they were tied together over the distance; within Allison he could always sense conviction in the rhythm of her heart. Meanwhile Lydia's her heartbeat beat an erratically, in that he sensed need. Scott rolled over onto hands and knees listened until it became easy to pluck her voice out of the air, to hear her whisper his name like a chant.
"Allison, I-I can't reach... Scott, if you can hear me- God. Scott, please hear me. Please."
Scoot gold-eyes narrowed, and he took off in ablaze. Lydia pleading for help was all the direction he needed.
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Track 11 - Groenland by Immune
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After the 3rd phone call Allison began to lose heart, she couldn't fail Lydia again. As an unfamiliar panic rose in Allison's throat. She closed her eyes and with a long deep breath, refocused and remembered her promise.
From the outside pocket on the strap of her over-sized quiver she withdrew a slim clutch purse (a gift; Raspberry python Gucci, with gold detailing on the inside that that read "In Case of Fashion Emergency. xx Lydia".) Inside were a set of keys with the glittery initials L. M. on a keychain, custom collapsible night-vision glasses, a plastic probe full of gelatinous liquid, three hollowed out arrow tips and a slim clone beacon of Lydia's iPhone. Allison used the clone phone, typed the password "1861". Allison tapped the prompt 'find my phone'. The map popped up instantaneously, giving a soft sound and a bright throbbing light straight uphill, across the Creek's third turn and shot through the clearings, several hundred yards off course directly South. Allison grinned at her cleverness. Her pride was short-lived.
Further North West, in diagonal opposition to Lydia's location and parallel to the direction Scott went, Allison heard a hunter's trap snap and an incredible howl of pain. It sounded neither animal nor man. It sounded like both; it was nearest to her and the closest thing to a threat so far.
Allison slipped the clutch, with the cloned phone, safely back into its hiding spot. For their sake, Allison put faith that together, her friends would take care of each other. She had no room for doubt, otherwise she couldn't move on.
Along the hillside she moved low and quickly, her stealth training made it easy to come across without being seen. When she sighted what the trap had caught, a smirked slipped across her features and relief for Lydia washed over her. Remembering herself, she snapped closed her compound bow and swapped it out for a tranquilizer rifle she had tucked in her over-sized quiver. Even after that first successful shot, the feeling of relief was quickly replaced by foreboding for them all when it didn't have the desired affect at all.
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Track 12 - Here With Me (Tinlicker Remix) by Susie Suh X Robot Koch
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Lydia hardly ever suffered ironic process theory, the overwhelming inability to suppress thoughts. There's how Math served her best; life's problems vanished when you drowned them out with the 1's and 0's. Whenever the wolf trap squeaked as if it were about come to life or her leg trembled to remain still, she searched for the Golden Sequence in leaves of the trees or the wings of a firefly.
When her safety net evaded her, she closed her eyes. "One, Small, Precise, Poetic, Spiraling mixture..." she recited subconsciously.
"Lydia, think." she said firmly, she opened her eyes and gazed blanky across the horizon, focusing instead on her conviction. "You never panic. You are not one those hysterical girls who screams and flails for someone to save them. You came here for a reason, and you are not leaving without a suitable result. This is just a setback."
"Hey, so if I promise I wasn't here to try and save you" started a deliberately calmed voice from behind her in the clearing, "is it okay if I help anyway?"
Lydia's back straightened minutely.
"Or I could just hand you your cell and you could-"
"Get me off the trap get me off the trap get me off the trap," hissed Lydia.
The guy in the hoodie sounded young, around her age. More than likely, he was a student jogging along the path; it had gotten early enough or late enough depending on your point of view, for students to start passing through. He came alongside her and dropped to his knees to examine the trap.
"You're doing great. Don't be nervous at all. Just keep steady."
"I am steady," she snapped.
"I was talking to me," he chuckled nervously. His hands steadied, he wiped away the leaves and stared at the trap.
"Look for a warning label," she told him.
"A warning label?" he asked in disbelief.
"Instructions on how to disarm it."
"Why the hell would they put instructions on the bottom of a trap?" he asked, face further to the ground as if he could sniff out a solution.
"Because animals can't read," she offered, mildly annoyed. He sniggered a little at that.
"You can do it. You can figure this out," he muttered to himself again. He pushed back his hood and focused. After a moment he leaned back just behind her line of sight and contemplated a decision. When he spoke again his voice lost its joviality and regained the thoughtful calm he had started with.
"Okay, I've got it. I'm going to reset it then pull you off. I need you to fully trust me or I don't think it will work. And I really want this to work. So-"
"I trust you," she cut in, her sincerity surprised them both.
The anticipation wore worse on his nerves than hers. He didn't wait a moment longer to twist the locking mechanism. Lydia reached back for him and threw her weight in his direction. He was there to catch her quicker than humanly possible, one hand cradled her head and the other braced her waist as he yanked her away to safety.
In shock, she rationalized, a whoosh of white noise washed over her mind while she had clutched to him and buried her face in collar. The sound of the wolf trap snapping sharply behind her reverberated through the air, they stared at it and the metal teeth that would have rent her leg in two. He held her upright when her legs went weak, and when all the calming numbers slipped from her mind, he soothed strokes along her spine.
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Track 13 - All The Lines by Fleurie
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"Lydia!" Scott's yell tore through bushes across the clearing.
"Scott!" she called back, her voice was rough.
However quick an observer Scott was it still took him a long moment to assess the scene; as he slid into the clearing, a wolf trap set off within a foot of her, her cell phone on the wrong side of it and Lydia grasping onto a familiar face on a stranger's body. 16 years-old instead of 10, face longer like his Dad's, eyes wiser, more determined still soft like his Mom's. Stiles looked a lot taller than he'd expected, like he suffered from a growth-spurt and a half.
"Lydia," Scott said in a low shaky voice, "you did it. You found him."
"I- What?" her mouth gaped, Lydia found herself at a loss for words. Surviving unscathed was only mildly more believable than finding herself held safely in Stiles' arms. She blinked away her disbelief and disentangled. In fact, she thrust herself out of his hold.
With the same concerned fascination Stiles stared; wide unblinking eyes to take in 6 years of features since his absence. His eyes were warm and discerning, and he seemed to smirk without meaning to. Perpetually.
"Stiles," Scott said in quiet surprise.
Stiles focused shifted and the warmth in his eyes shimmered in a way that could only be matched by Scott's. The smirk on his lips turned into an outright grin, hesitant at first but irrepressible.
A perfect package unexpected but anticipated, Scott & Stiles were arguably the best thing that ever happened to Beacon Hills. But that much Stiles hadn't needed to come out of hiding to confirm it.
Stiles imagined Scott to be weedier. He had had asthma after all yet came sprinting into the clearing like a bat out of hell. Scott took after his Dad in a lot of ways, in his higher cheekbones or recklessness maybe but his want to help others. That was his Mom. And that was great and everything but that roguish grin, the glint in his eyes that said it was perfectly natural to tear through the Preserve in the middle of the night and expect to find a long-lost friend... that was Scott.
Lydia was different entirely. Tenacious, livelier with flowing hair, flawless face and everything perfectly stylized down to impractical footwear to run steadfastly toward him. She looked like she belonged on a pedestal somewhere not in the woods, definitely not caught on a wolf's trap, fearless, standing calm as a cucumber while Stiles had observed from his hiding place, while he tried not to piss his pants.
Sure, periodically joggers would pass through the woods, but he couldn't leave it up to chance that someone else would come to her aide. Without a doubt he would definitely save her (that is if she would let him it seemed) and Stiles assumed, after his good deed done, he would slink off. Maybe after so much time had passed Lydia wouldn't even recognize him. He never got that far. He had only gotten to the bit where she had knocked the wind out of him. He hadn't calculated for how she would cling to the fabric of his hoodie or how it felt to stare into those large green eyes.
A split second later, when Scott called him out like someone on a lineup, he felt really fine about it about not going directly back into hiding.
The noted hard collision of memories to the present caused Lydia to find her voice. "Stiles?" she whispered, as if asking confirmation. He nodded without looking at her.
"Stiles!" Scott sounded happier.
"Stiles!" Lydia sounded irked.
"Stiles!" Scott said loudly before he rushing forward to pull him into a proper hug.
Lydia ambled back and forth, clasped and unclasped her hands in nervous contemplation. She collected her phone and muttered his name to herself. She thought of texting Allison and then went back to pacing. And muttering.
"Can't you talk?" she accused in rasp, her emotions kept her voice raw. He nodded. "And you don't have anything to say?" she sounded outright exasperated.
"I'm just shocked Lydia Martin remembered my name."
At that she huffed in annoyance and hit him in the arm.
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Track 14 - You Should Know Where I'm Coming From by BANKS
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"Shit, can we be done with the dramatic," Stiles tentatively let go of Scott. He was more reluctant to let Scott out of his reach than Lydia.
"You guys, okay?" Scott tried to clear up. He couldn't help but clap Stiles' shoulder opposite to the one Lydia hit, almost as if to make certain he was real.
"There were these hunting traps around," Lydia stepped around it, hovering just shy of nervous pacing. "Stiles got me out though. Ironic since we came to save him."
"Save me?"
"Screw them. We're ready for anything," grinned Scott. His body language changed again, in that way Lydia knew, in that no longer clumsy but fluid way when he was ready to take a decisive action. Scott had come up with a plan and Lydia was surprised to find she had become eager to follow.
"I'm lost," Stiles interrupted.
"Wait," Lydia forced room for her keen mind to cut through, "Were you?"
"What?" Stiles backed up toward the woods.
"Lost," Scott caught onto her wavelength.
"It has been years, Stiles. 6 of them," Lydia neared him, her stare narrowed.
"Where've you been?" while Lydia sounded accusatory, Scott just sounded troubled.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Stiles wasn't aiming to run but his nervous energy kept him moving in concise circles.
"Stiles," Lydia's face didn't reflect the calm in her tone, "what wouldn't we believe?" She looked close to skeptical, possibly broaching on sincere.
Stiles worried his lower lip. Without meaning to his movement mimicked hers from earlier but exaggerated; clasping, fidgeting just shy of flailing. Lydia glanced at Scott, wordlessly communicating what they both came to assume. Her look said with a distinct disbelief, 'not this again'. Whereas Scott's look answered with hope that said 'this, again!'
"You're a Werewolf," Scott offered up an olive branch.
"Yeah. That." Stiles stopped on the spot. He took a breath and spun around. For years, there were many confession scenarios that played in his head about (if it ever happened) where he would track them at Scott or Lydia or bother at school, or if he had to approach them separately at their homes and awkwardly stood on doorsteps like something out of rom-com and tell reveal the truth about his abnormal circumstances. In the midst of a creepy-ass woods had not been one of them.
Of course, they were clever enough to discover it first. They did always keep him on his toes. "How're you guys not freaking out about this?"
"Because I'm a Werewolf, too," Scott supplied then looked more nervous than Stiles.
Instinct told Lydia this was why she had come, for their sake. They were why she felt bold enough to march blindly into the woods and to walk among the company of wolves. And they were who she needed to keep close because she sensed things were about to get more disturbing.
"What?!" Stiles sounded upset at first, then added a small "what?" out of sympathy.
"So is Isaac." Allison announced as she sent him stumbling into the clearing, with a gun to his head.
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Track 15 - We've Got A Big Mess On Our Hands by The Academy is...
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{Twilight - Back at the Sheriff's Station, Bull Pen}
"I wish it were more of a shock," Deputy Romero started off, 15 minutes into her shift and already the oppression of desk duty was regrettably cut short by an alert from Fairvale. All work would be put on hold to aide some other flunky town and get no credit. "Well, it really isn't an option, is it?" She knew the right answer, she had even said as much but her voice lacked the confidence needed.
"The Sheriff isn't even in yet," Deputy Haige had an arch to his voice as he tried to make an excuse to ignore the request, he had an officiousness that came with proficient boredom.
"Just because he isn't overseeing it, doesn't mean he doesn't have an interest," Deputy Parrish interceded. He had just clocked out, his shifted having ended at daybreak but the uncertainty in Romero's voice called back to the desk front. He reached out a hand for her intake document.
"Does that mean we wait for Sheriff's direction or does that mean we do directly to Fairvale?" Deputy Romero looked to senior officer for guidance, it was an unfortunate circumstance some were more positive than others.
Parrish read the fax over twice, his tiredness instantly washed away in a sense of duty and strangely shame. He had sorted all the intake sheets but hadn't stopped to review it close enough.
"Head to Fairvale," he instructed her.
Jane Doe II, under similar circumstances.
"I'll run this right now to the Chief myself," Parrish gave Romero a pat on the shoulder for catching the detail he hadn't.
"Yeah?" she grew more certain. Her brow went up with the cockiness she deserved for such good instincts.
"Yeah," he walked over to the copy machine and made one to take to Stilinski. "Give them assurance Beacon Hills will give them all the support they'll need. And more just keep us in the loop. You did good Romero." He felt like tacking on 'where I messed up' but self-pity wasn't going to get him as far as good police work would.
"How many pieces of paper are you planning on sharing Deputy?" another cocky voice caught Parrish mid stuffing the pages in his bag.
Jordan Parrish turned to find a gentleman from Argent Itl., a gentleman by the stretch of the definition, named Tyhurst waiting behind the counter. His grin looked drawn on in the way children struggle to keep colors in the lines of the coloring books, in that the smile barely fit into place.
"Beg pardon?"
"Sheriff's department is supposed to release some reports to our service. Officially opening up the crime scene in the Beacon Hills Preserve... but if you have anything else that needs help, we'd sure like to help," Tyhurst tacked on.
Parrish smiled mildly, he was much better at this game.
"I'm sorry, I'd sure like your help but I'm off duty. I'm sure Deputy Haige over there in the back would be happy to help you out. And 'this'," Parrish folded and handed back the original missing person report "Deputies Romero and Cordova are off to perform the usual political interdepartmental exchanges. But the Sheriff's department sure does appreciate your support."
Playlist Available: 8tracksDOTcom / bhanesidhe / 06-were-you-caught
Playlist: transferred over to youtubeDOTcom / bhanesidhe / playlist
It's probable in the future, far, far future I'll be making spotify playlist available, that is if they make more tracks available...