A/N: Sorry guys, I thought I would've had this chapter up much sooner since I wrote the first draft of it way back in April too. It ended up needing a lot more work than I thought it would, not to mention that school has been keeping me busy lately. I hope you like this one. I'd love if you'd let me know what you think.

Stiles was asleep as soon as he collapsed on his bed. Everyone in the house slept for nearly three uninterrupted hours, at least until Malia showed up outside Stiles's bedroom window. He was only half awoken by the scrape of the window opening and the thump of bare feet landing softly on the carpet.

The sound probably should have alarmed him more than it did, but he was in that confused state between awake and dreaming. Before he could even manage to get his eyes open fully, he was being shaken awake. All he could see was a dark shape standing over him, and just as he thought to reach for the bat near his bed, a familiar voice stopped him.

"Stiles, wake up! Where is she?"

If he hadn't been awake before, he certainly was now. "Malia?!" he said, leaning over to turn on the lamp. Dim light filled the room and then there she was, standing right in front of him.

He looked her over, taking in the loose fitting clothes and her wild, tangled hair. Her skin was covered in a thin layer of dirt, and she appeared exhausted yet frantic at the same time. Stiles's heart was pounding so hard at that sight of her. He was so relieved to have her back, but that emotion diminished somewhat when she grabbed him roughly by the arm.

"Is she here?" Malia asked. Her voice was filled with panic as her eyes scanned the room. "Is she in the hospital? What did you do with her?!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Stiles wrenched his arm away from her and practically tumbled out of his bed. "Calm down, okay? She's here. She's fine."

"She – she's here?" She hadn't been sure where the baby would be, but she'd gone straight to his house because she'd known he'd have the answer. And now that she knew the baby was in the house with her, it made her all the more desperate to get to her. "I want to see her."

"She's in my dad's room – hey, wait!" He grabbed her by the shoulders when she tried to get past him. She flinched at his touch and he took his hands away. "Let me go get her and I'll bring her back to you."

Malia didn't want to wait there, but she nodded and let him go. Her arms wrapped around her middle as she anxiously shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for him to return. She just needed to see that the baby was okay with her own eyes. She had to make sure she hadn't done something irreparable to that helpless baby who had done nothing wrong but be the product of her own carelessness.

Stiles hurried to his dad's room and slipped inside. The Sheriff was snoring softly as Stiles carefully lifted the baby out of her bassinette. He carried her out of the room and shut the door behind him, his dad never waking.

As soon as he entered his bedroom Malia practically charged him, her eyes focused only on the baby. In a sudden rush of protectiveness, he shielded Hanna so she couldn't take her from him. He regretted it as soon as he saw Malia's hurt expression, but he was worried about what she would do in her eagerness.

"Stiles, let me see her," Malia pleaded, her eyes filling with tears. "Please, I want to hold her. I know I messed up and you must be so mad at me –"

"No, that's not – I just didn't want you to wake her. Come sit with me."

He guided her over to his bed and they sat. The first thing Malia noticed was how tiny she was, especially in Stiles's arms. She recognized her own lips and eyebrows in the baby's features, but Malia thought she looked much more like Stiles and it made her smile. The baby's hair looked so soft, but when she reached out to touch it her hands were shaking too much.

"You can touch her. She's won't break."

"No, but I might," she said, her eyes prickling with tears.

Stiles wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't used to seeing Malia show this much emotion. There had been moments in their very brief time together that she'd allowed him to see her be vulnerable, but it was always what she was willing to give him. Now she seemed almost fragile, a word he never thought he would use to describe her.

"Malia, are you okay?"

She waved her hand dismissively. She wasn't worried about herself. "Yeah, I'm fine. Can . . . I want to hold her."

Considering she hadn't even managed to touch her yet, Stiles wanted to be sure she was ready. "Are you sure? There's no rush."

"Yes. I want to hold her."

"Make a cradle with your arms and I'll give her to you."

Malia did as he said and he gave her the baby. As soon as she felt that weight in her arms and laid eyes on that sweet little face, she started sobbing. She couldn't stop it even if she tried. For Stiles, it was like watching a dam break – nothing and then total devastation. It was the most anguished sort of crying he'd ever been witness to, and any anger he might have still felt toward her quickly vanished. He had no idea how to comfort her, so he awkwardly put his hand on her back and let her cry.

After a couple of minutes, she calmed down enough to speak. "I'm sorry. I –"

"It's okay. Here," he said, offering her the box of tissues by his bed.

She took one to dab at her eyes. When she looked at the baby, her chin started trembling and she bit her bottom lip to keep herself from starting up again. Malia steeled herself to ask the questions she was terrified to hear answered. "Is she okay? Is she hurt or sick?"

"She's great."

"Stiles, don't lie to me," she sniffled. "You have to tell me if I made her sick, or –"

"I swear she isn't sick."

"But she's so tiny. How can she be okay?"

"Because she's tough." When Malia still looked unconvinced, he added, "Look, I know she's really small, but I wouldn't have been able to bring her home from the hospital so soon if she wasn't healthy, right?"

It wasn't lost on him that the day before he'd been just as worried as she sounded, or the fact that he was basically repeating what had been said to him. Since he'd been assured many times that Hanna's apnea wasn't as serious as he was making it out to be, he thought it was best not to mention it yet. He'd tell her later once she calmed down a bit.

Malia still wasn't buying it. Tears were falling silently down her cheeks as she planted the softest kiss to the baby girl's head. She whispered softly, "I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Malia, you didn't hurt her." Her hair was sticking to her face, so he tucked it behind her ear and wiped away a fresh tear away with his thumb.

"But I left her! How could I do that?"

"You didn't leave her alone. You left her with me, and Scott, and Deaton. And you're back now. That's all that matters."

"Stop being nice to me. You must hate me."

"Oh come on," he sighed. "Fine, I admit to being mad at you at first, but I never hated you. I just wanted you to come back so we could decide what to do. And now I'm so relieved that you're here that I don't even care anymore that you were gone. Besides," he added, feeling a sudden swoop of guilt, "I'm no shining example."

She was curious about what that meant, especially since he'd said it with an expression on his face she couldn't quite read. She really had no idea what he'd been going through while she'd been gone. Malia looked at the baby again and tried to guess how old she might be, but considering this was her first time seeing her, she had no real way of knowing.

It was such an awkward question, but she had to ask it. She needed to know. "Stiles? How long have I been gone? How old is she?"

He was surprised by the question. "You . . . you really don't know?" She shook her head, embarrassed. The longer she'd been gone, the more he'd really thought she'd meant to stay away so long, that she'd chose not to come back. He stood and started to pace in front of her, rethinking the past few days and every harsh thought he'd about her as he considered this new information.

"Stiles?"

"Sorry. She was born on June 30th, and today is . . ." he paused to look at his clock, which read 12:37 a.m. "Officially the fourth."

"It's already July 4th?! I had no idea I was gone that long!"

Stiles stood over them, seeing Malia was obviously racked with guilt. Just as he tried to come up with some words of comfort, Hanna started to cry, softly at first but quickly becoming the cry he could already associate with hunger. He knew if he didn't hurry, she would soon be inconsolable.

Malia's eyes went wide. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, she's just hungry. I'll go get her a bottle." He didn't hurry off to the kitchen, however. He suddenly felt nervous about leaving Malia alone with her. "Will you be okay to be alone with her? It'll only take a minute."

Malia nodded, but she was just as nervous to be alone with her as Stiles was to leave her. The baby started crying even louder then, so loud it made her wince. Her breasts had been hurting ever since she'd changed back, and now it was getting even worse. The baby started to nuzzle her chest, and Malia understood what she wanted. She was scared to try it since she had no idea what she was doing, but she hated to see her baby cry that way.

Stiles was already off to get the bottle, but Malia stopped him before he could get too far. "Wait, I want to try something."

He was understandably wary. The last time she'd said those words to him, they'd ended up making a baby. "What are you –?"

Before she could second-guess herself, Malia lifted her shirt and brought the baby to her breast. It took Hanna a moment or two to latch on, but she figured it out in no time.

"Oh, you're gonna – okay," Stiles stuttered, turning away to stare at a distant spot on the wall.

"They won't stop aching," Malia groaned by way of explanation. "And when she started crying it just got worse, so . . ."

"Right, yeah." The soft sound of suckling filled the room, and Stiles sneaked a peek at them from out of the corner of his eye, though he wasn't as stealthy about it as he thought.

"Stiles," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "You don't have to turn away. You've seen my boobs before. Many times."

"Sure, but never like this." It felt strangely more intimate somehow. He went closer and knelt in front of them. Malia's expression was pinched but he swore sometimes there was a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Does it hurt?"

"It's more uncomfortable than painful. And really, really weird." Her arms tightened around the baby. There was something comforting about the closeness. "But then it's also kind of nice."

He nodded, smiled, and tried to swallow over the lump forming in his throat. It felt so good to have her back and finally see them together. This was probably the first time he'd breathed easy in days, and it somehow filled him with hope that they would be able to figure out what to do. Stiles and Malia sat in silence like that for a while until they were interrupted.

"Stiles, is Han – oh." The Sheriff walked in, surprised by the sight of Malia sitting on his son's bed, and she was breastfeeding no less. After his initial shock he reacted just as Stiles had, turning away and staring at the wall. "Malia, I'm glad you're back. We were really worried about you."

Malia smiled and made a show of covering herself better so he didn't feel the need to protect her modesty. The Stilinski men could be so funny. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry anyone. I was just . . . in shock, I guess. I didn't know how long I'd been gone, or where I've been. After a while I even forgot what happened. It's like I blocked it out or something."

"What?" Stiles rose to sit beside her on his bed again. "You didn't tell me that part."

She shrugged, trying to play it off. "I'm fine now."

"That definitely sounds like shock to me," the Sheriff said. "And it's completely understandable given what happened to you. Are you feeling okay? Do you need to see a doctor or –"

"Oh no, I'm fine." Malia had no interest in going to the hospital. Physically she felt completely healed. Sure, she didn't feel quite like herself considering she was having trouble controlling her emotions, but that was nothing a doctor could fix. Besides, she'd only just met the baby. She didn't want to leave her already.

"Is there anyone you want to call? Maybe your Dad –"

"No, please don't call my Dad," Malia cried, suddenly feeling panicked. She still loved her dad despite their awkward relationship, but she couldn't deal with the thought of involving him yet.

"Don't worry, I won't call him if you don't want me to." He didn't want to do anything that might make her run off again, but he certainly didn't like it. The Sheriff had never particularly cared for the way her sudden disappearance had been handled by the kids, especially any time he had to look Mr. Tate in the face whenever he went to the station. He'd never stopped looking for Malia. "Is there anything you need?"

"Just a place to sleep."

"Of course. Malia, you can stay as long as you need."

"Thank you."

There was a bit of an awkward silence after that. The Sheriff looked back and forth between Stiles, Malia, and the baby still at her breast, at least until Stiles gave him a pointed look. "Right, well, I'll go so you two can talk. Just come get me if you need anything."

"We will, Dad."

He gave them one last smile before leaving and closing the door behind him. It was just the three of them again, and Stiles and Malia stared at each other. They still had a lot to talk about. Stiles fidgeted, not sure where to start, but Malia spoke up first.

"So . . ." she said, and he tensed up. Was this it? Were they finally going to talk about what they were going to do? "Han?"

His pent up breath blew out of his mouth in surprise. He hadn't been expecting that. "What?"

"Your dad called her Han, didn't he? Did . . . did you name her?"

"Yeah, is that – that's not weird, is it?"

"No, it's not. It's good," she said, but her trembling voice betrayed her. She tried to smile. "Though it is a little weird that you named her after Han Solo."

He guffawed and then quickly covered his mouth to cover the loud sound. "Wow, eight years in the woods as a coyote and you still saw Star Wars before Scott."

"My dad was a big fan. But really though, Han?"

"It's Hanna, actually. Do you hate it? We can totally change it if you want. It just felt strange that she didn't have a name –"

"I like it. I do." In her mind it was a perfectly fine name. Well, it probably wasn't something she would have picked out on her own, but she had no idea what she would have picked anyway. It wasn't like she'd spent years picking out baby names for her future children like some girls did. But even if she hadn't liked it, she probably still wouldn't have asked him to change it. He was the one who'd been taking care of her, so it felt right that he be the one to choose. It was a nice name, so she had no idea why she was tearing up again.

"Really? Because it doesn't seem like you do."

"I like it, I swear. God, I hate being like this," she said, wiping her eyes. "I hate that I can't stop crying."

Stiles grew somber. "Then I should've waited for you, right? Is that what it is?"

"No, it's fine," she insisted, clearly not fine at all. "I'm glad you did. I just hate that I missed it. I missed a lot of things. Stiles . . . I just ran away. What was I thinking? What is wrong with me?"

Stiles looked her in the eye and spoke with conviction, even though in that moment he wasn't entirely sure it was true. "Malia, there is nothing wrong with you."

"There has to be," she said quietly. "A good person wouldn't do what I did. Hell, even a good coyote wouldn't do that to her baby. So I guess I'm neither, but we already knew that, right?"

Stiles never like hearing her blame herself for her family's deaths, especially when she said it so nonchalantly. It was a fact of her life he wasn't sure she would ever get past, and it was the biggest reason he suspected she'd wanted to be a coyote again. Coyotes didn't feel guilt. And now considering her feelings about the baby, Stiles was suddenly very scared he would lose her again for the same reason.

"Don't do that."

"Don't do what, speak the truth? I . . . I don't deserve her."

At those words Stiles's heart slammed in his chest. It sounded like she was already making a decision. He still wasn't sure what he wanted to do about the baby, but maybe she did. Staring down at his hands, he took a deep breath and started, "I don't agree with that, but we can talk about what we want to do. We do have options, you know?"

She nodded. "You mean adoption."

"Yes."

She nodded again and stroked Hanna's cheek. She didn't want to think about the future yet. She wasn't ready. Malia was suddenly shaking her head and her movements became agitated. "No, I don't want to talk about that right now."

"Malia, we have to –"

"I know, but does it have to be tonight? I just want to be here with her without thinking about that stuff. And I'm so tired. I came all the way here from God knows where and I just need to sleep."

He could do that, but then he remembered the appointment with the adoption agency on the fifth, and he felt like she should know about it. "I think I should at least tell you –"

"Please, Stiles. I don't want to make any decisions tonight."

He really looked at her then, with her tousled hair and wide eyes. In that moment she looked like the wild animal he'd known she could be, wary and untamed, so he agreed because he didn't want to lose her so soon after she'd come back to him. To them. "Okay."

She visibly relaxed and they both looked at Hanna, noticing that she was no longer eating. Malia gently pulled her from her breast. "I think she's asleep."

Stiles stood and helped her guide the baby onto her shoulder. He repeated the words Melissa had said to him, and it made him feel a small amount of pride to be able to teach Malia what he'd learned so far. "Here, I'll show you how to burp her."

Once that task was done, Stiles took the baby while Malia crawled into his bed without a second thought, dirt-covered feet and all. It was so nice to be in a bed again, especially his bed. When Stiles started to head toward the bedroom door, she quickly sat up. "Where are you going?"

"The crib is still in my dad's room, so . . ."

"Wait, can't she stay with us, just for a little while?"

Stiles nodded and sat next to her. Once he was settled he put Hanna between them. Malia couldn't stop touching her. She just couldn't believe that she and Stiles had made this little person that she'd carried her inside her for months and never known it. Stiles watched Malia touch Hanna's nose, take hold of her tiny fingers, and breathe in her scent as if committing it to memory. Once it seemed like Malia had finally fallen asleep, he brought the baby back to his dad's room.

When he returned, Stiles grabbed his pillow and was about to make a bed for himself on the floor when Malia sat up again. "What are you doing?"

"It's okay, you can have the bed. I didn't . . . I wasn't sure if you, uh, wanted me to –"

"Stiles, get in here."

"Are you sure? Because –"

She reached over to take his hand and pulled him closer. "I don't want to be alone."

He got in bed beside her. "Neither do I."

A/N: Well, I'm ready for some lighter moments, what about you? I'm going to tell you all upfront, I have papers and finals coming up, so I feel confident in saying I won't be able to get the next chapter up until the second week of December at least. Thanks to everyone for hanging in there with me.