word count: 9,865
polyvore: username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under collections for one named after this story
episode: 1x02 - second chance at first line

VI

Malia glanced in the direction of the librarian to make sure he was far enough away he wouldn't shush her. The guy had ears like a hawk; always ready with a stern look and a wag of his finger. Semi-sure he was far enough away, busy restocking shelves, she turned back to Danny, "What party?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "My party. Are you coming?"

"On Saturday? Don't you have a game?"

He shrugged. "Plenty of time after. Especially if we win."

Malia tapped her pencil against her notebook. "I don't know if I can make it…"

Danny's brows arched, unconvinced. "Let me guess. It's something Scott McCall related."

She frowned. "No…"

He shook his head. "It's up to you what you wanna do. But, if you feel like having some fun, you know where I live."

"I'll see what I can do." She sat forward in her seat and crossed her legs at the ankle. "Anyway, what if you guys lose?"

"Gotta love that confidence, Tate. It's a real morale booster."

She snorted.

"Anyway, if we lose, then the party picks our mood up." He grinned. "If we win, then we celebrate. There's no downside here."

"That also means that most of your guests are probably lacrosse players." Her nose scrunched up. "Not really my type."

"Your on-going crush on McCall says different."

Shushing him, she glared. "I don't have a crush—"

"Call it what you want." He smirked. "But, I think you could meet someone you like if you'd give the party a chance. A guy, a girl, whatever you're into."

Malia shrugged. "I'll think about it."

…

After school, Malia made her way out to the lacrosse field. Arriving earlier than the boys, she took a seat on the benches and dug her English book out, getting through a couple chapters before she heard familiar banter approaching. It was late enough that the school and the parking lot were basically empty, reducing the chances that somebody would see what they were doing.

Stiles, unlike Scott, carried a bag of lacrosse balls, his gym bag, and a stick.

She rolled her eyes and put her book away. "I thought we agreed that wasn't going to be enough."

"Multiple sources of irritation." Stiles shrugged. "We start with one thing and then we add more and more."

Scott looked between them skeptically. "Until?"

"We find out your threshold, that way we can build on it." Stiles shrugged. "Until almost nothing sets you off."

"In two days?" Scott's brows hiked. "Guys, I'm not sure this is going to work…"

"Yeah, well, standing around wondering isn't going to change anything." Malia stood and tied her hair up in a high ponytail. "So, how do we do this? We just chain him up and start throwing balls?"

Stiles grinned. "Pretty much."

Scott sighed, shoulders slumped, but made his way toward the net anyway. Stiles and Malia followed. Inside Stiles' gym bag were the chains; they each took one out and got to work. It took them a few minutes to make sure Scott was secure, but eventually, no matter how much he pulled or squirmed, Scott couldn't find a way out. He stood in the center of the net, arms stretched to either side.

Malia and Stiles took up position a good twenty-feet in front of him then. She tossed Stiles a lacrosse ball and watched as he swung his stick back and then took a run forward, arching his stick forward to throw the ball. It landed a few feet short.

Scott stared at it before sending them an amused smile. "Nice one."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Here, give me another one."

Malia threw him another ball and put her hands on her hips.

Stiles dug his toes into the grass and gave it another go, swinging his arm as hard as he could. This time, the ball connected, bouncing off Scott's head.

"Okay. Ow." He gave his head a shake. "I don't like it, but I'm not feeling anything weird."

"I think it's like we talked about. It's more than just physical, it's psychological." Malia nodded. "Think back to how it was with Jackson."

Scott frowned "I mean, it hurt. I broke my finger. But it was more than that… He wanted to make me look bad. To put me in my place, I guess."

"Okay, so…" Stiles frowned. "Scott, you'll never amount to anything. You're a shitty lacrosse player."

Scott stared at him. "I don't believe you. I mean, I know you're just saying it to piss me off."

Tapping his foot, Stiles squinted thoughtfully. "Okay, try this one… The only reason you've gotten this far is because you're a werewolf. If it wasn't for that, you'd still be warming the bench with me. In fact, that's probably the only reason Allison likes you. Because you're gonna be a big lacrosse player and you don't have asthma anymore. Before that, she wouldn't have looked at you twice."

Scott frowned, his brow furrowed.

Malia's stomach bottomed out. "Stiles…" They'd talked about this— about what kind of triggers might work. Somehow, seeing it in action felt different and wrong. When it was discussed in vague terms, that was one thing. But, actually hearing him tear Scott down just didn't sit right.

Stiles ignored her. "Think about it. You never dated before. And Allison? She's beautiful and popular. Best friends with Lydia. What are the chances she'd even give you a second glance if you weren't making first line?"

"That's not true," Scott said. "Allison's a good person. She—"

"Maybe she would've pity dated you, you know? But long term, she would've been on the arm of some other player by the end of the week. Lydia's probably got a whole list of more popular guys that'd be happy to take Allison out." Stiles stared at him searchingly. "The bite did you a favor. 'Cause otherwise, you'd just be a mediocre lacrosse player with no girlfriend."

Scott's jaw clenched and his eyes briefly flashed gold. "I worked for it. The whole summer and all of winter break!"

Rather than answer, Stiles threw another lacrosse ball, beaning Scott in the shoulder. He shook it off, but then another and another came. Still, while Scott looked annoyed, he wasn't raging out like he had at practice, after Jackson.

"This isn't working," Malia muttered. "You're his best friend. Of course he doesn't believe what you're saying."

"When I mentioned Allison, he flinched." Stiles rolled his lacrosse stick between his hands, his eyes darting around thoughtfully. "That's gotta be the trigger… Scott, think about last Friday. Your first date. You were excited, right? You were going on a date with Allison. It was gonna be the best night of your life!"

Scott stared at him, confused. "Okay…?"

"And then everything changed. The bite took that away. Derek took that away. You had to run out on Allison, you remember? You didn't even think she'd give you another chance."

Scott's face fell.

"That's how it's always going to be. You'll keep getting close to something great and then this, all of this, is going to get in the way. Derek's gonna be right there, lurking in the shadows, ready to ruin it for you."

Scott moved his arms, pulling on his chains a little.

"He drove Allison home. Remember?" Stiles nodded. "You thought he hurt her. He knows where she lives Scott. He can find her, any time he wants. And he knows where you live, too. He can hurt you or your mom—"

Scott's eyes flared yellow. "Stop."

"He bit you, Scott. He screwed up your whole life. You're going to be stuck like this, always worried you could hurt someone, kill someone."

Scott pulled at his chains. "Stiles, stop."

"He went after Malia, too. Found her at the party and in the woods and he was right here, watching you when you freaked out. But he didn't help, did he? He let you rage out." Stiles paused then, a curious look crossing his face, and then he turned to her.

Malia felt something sink in her chest.

"He talked to Malia again—"

"Stiles." Malia shook her head. "Not like this."

But he wasn't listening now. "Derek found her at the store the other night. He grabbed her, Scott. So hard it left a bruise. Look!" Stiles towed her forward and yanked her sleeve up. Malia pulled away, but the damage was already done.

A loud and angry growl reverberated from Scott. He pulled back, his arms straining against the chains. His head fell forward, shoulders hunched as he panted roughly. When he lifted his head, hair had sprouted across his cheeks and from his eyebrows. He bared his sharpened teeth at them, lurching forward in an attempt to free himself. The chains whined but held. He kept pulling, his hands raised, fingers flared and long, yellowed nails clawing at the metal.

"Stiles…" She pulled at his shoulder to lead him a few feet back. "It worked. Now how do we reverse it?"

"We have to calm him down." Stiles started snapping his fingers. "It was Derek that set him off. Putting the people he cared about in danger. What's the opposite of that?"

"Rainbows and bunny rabbits," she mocked. "What are we supposed to do? Just tell him we're okay?"

"No, no we need to give him something good to think about. Something that will bring him back to the moment."

The chains clanged loudly against the goal post. Scott dug his heels in to the ground, trying to get traction, and left heel-sized gouges in the earth.

"Like what?" Her eyes widened and she turned to Scott, walking in his direction. "Allison! Scott, think of Allison. Of when you met her and how she makes you feel. Think— Think about her voice and- and her smile. Think about that first moment when she walked into English class. Or when you were at the party and you were dancing."

"Didn't he freak out when they were dancing?" Stiles reminded.

"Okay, maybe not that part. But before that, when you picked her up and you went to the party. How excited you were to be there with her."

Scott leaned forward, his arms drawn behind him. He stared at her, yellow eyes bouncing across her face. He sniffed at the air and cocked his head to one side. He didn't look like himself, which was more than a little unnerving. Like a stranger wearing a familiar mask. She reminded herself that it was still him in there— beyond the excess hair and teeth and claws— it was still Scott.

Despite her pounding heart and every instinct telling her to stop, Malia took a step closer. "We're not afraid of you."

Stiles made a disagreeable noise in the background.

"Scott, I know you're scared. I know all of this is out of your control and that- that's terrifying." She nodded. "But, you're stronger than this. I know you can hear me." She took another shaky step, until she was just inches from his face.

Stiles pulled at the back of her cardigan, urging her to stop, to pause, to reconsider. "Malia…"

Malia wouldn't budge. "Werewolf or not, you're still you. And this— All this werewolf crap doesn't make you who you are. You do. So, just… fight it!" She stared at him searchingly. "Come back to us."

Scott peered at her from those eerie yellow eyes, seemingly more animal than man. But then—

Slowly, Malia watched the extra hair fade, his teeth shorten, and his eyes blink back to a warm brown. He fell to his knees, exhausted and out of breath. Malia let out a whoosh of breath before her legs turned to jelly and she was kneeling in front of him. Reaching out, she laid trembling hands on his shoulders. "You did it!"

He stared at her, his eyes at half-mast. "Werewolf crap?"

Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. Closing her eyes, she pressed her cheek to his, and murmured, "I knew you could."

Scott sighed and dropped his chin to her shoulder, his body slumped against hers.

"Question is, what part of it?" Stiles stood beside them, hands on his hips and fingers twitching. "What got through to you and pulled you back?"

"I… All of it. I mean, Allison and you guys." Scott turned his head, but didn't raise it. His nose gently brushed her neck as he murmured, "Everything you said."

"Can you repeat it?" Stiles stared down at him. "If you're triggered, do you think you can you remember what she said or whatever brought you back?"

His face screwed up. "I think…"

Stiles sighed. "Well, it's not perfect. But, it's a start."

Malia smiled. "Something to work with, at least." She stood then and helped Scott to his feet as well. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving…"

Stiles snorted and made his way to the goal posts to release the chains. "I could eat."

Scott nodded. "Me, too."

"Great." Malia started gathering up the lacrosse balls and putting them inside the bag. "I want the biggest burger on the menu with extra bacon."

…

When Malia got home, she was surprised to find her dad sitting on the couch, a bottle of beer balanced atop his knee. She felt a thread of wary uncertainty run through her. Despite her dad's increased drinking; he didn't do much of it at home. He tended to keep it to bars and slink in late at night, out of sight. Closing the door behind her, she kicked off her boots and made her way to her bedroom.

"You're not gonna talk to me?"

She paused just short of her bedroom door, took a deep breath, and turned to face him. "Thought you might still be mad at me."

With a sigh, Henry stared at her searchingly. He ran a hand through his hair roughly. "I'm not trying to be a bully, you know that, right? When Deaton left a message about Shiloh, I was worried. About the dog, sure, but about you, too. I know what she means to you…"

Crossing her arms, she frowned. "Then why ask how much it costs? Are we really that hard up for money?"

Henry's gaze skittered away. "I was thinking long term, Malia. If she was going to need surgeries, if this was going to be a recurring problem for her… Sometimes it's better to put an animal down than let them live in pain. And yeah, that gets expensive, so I had to think of that, too. But I don't want you to think I'd make that decision without you. She's your dog, I told you that when I got her for you."

"Yeah, and she's okay. It was a tiny fracture."

"Okay, well, you could've said that. Instead, I've got you dodging me every chance you get."

Malia looked away. Knick-knacks covered the fireplace mantle; salt and pepper shakers shaped like random things— fruit, animals, etcetera. Her mother collected them. She used to visit garage sales just to see if she could find something unique to add to her collection. They were layered in dust now; gone untouched and unadded to in years. Dragging her attention back to her dad, Malia said, "I didn't think you'd want to know."

"I don't know what I did to make you feel that way, but… I care. I always want to know."

Malia felt her heart swell and pull. She chewed the inside of her cheek before the feeling could swamp her and shrugged. "It was kind of hard to tell with you not around lately."

"I've been working."

Malia bit her tongue so she didn't lash out. Didn't tell him everything running through her head. Didn't call him a liar. Didn't tell him she had called his work in the past. That they said he'd gone home hours earlier, only he hadn't. He'd left work and gone to the bar. Like he'd been doing for months. That she knew he was sneaking in late at night, when he thought she was sleeping. She didn't say it, even though a desperate part of her wanted to throw it in his face and see how he excused it away. Instead, she shook her head. "I know."

"I'll try to be better, all right? But, if something happens… Honey, you gotta talk to me. You gotta let me know when something's up."

She nodded, all the while thinking about the dead body in the woods, the wolf attack, Derek Hale showing up in strange, semi-confrontational situations, and Scott, struggling to hold back his baser instincts to tear her and Stiles' throats out. "I will," she lied. Because this, to him, was a feel-good family moment, where all was set right by his brief show of parenting. Only they weren't characters in an episode of Full House and he was no Danny Tanner. "I should feed Shiloh and get some homework done."

"Okay." He smiled at her, beer still clutched in his hand.

She turned on her heel and fled for her room, closing the door behind her with a heavy sigh.

…

Later that night, Malia was curled up on her bed, reading a book that wasn't required by her English teacher, eating a bowl of cantaloupe and honey dew, occasionally tossing a piece Shiloh's way. Her dad had passed out a couple hours ago. She knew because when she brought Shiloh out to go to the bathroom, she'd found him slumped on the couch. Taking the empty bottle from his hand, she'd tossed it in the recycling, put a throw-blanket over him, and returned to her room. Having finished her homework, she found herself too worked up from the day to go to sleep, which was why it was almost midnight and she was nowhere closer to getting any rest.

And then a text made her phone buzz.

Frowning, Malia grabbed her phone off her bedside table and thumbed open her messages. She had one from Scott.

—'hey, i'm outside. can i come in? or can you come outside?'

Standing from her bed, she made her way to her window, pulled it up, and stuck her head out to see. It was dark, but she could make Scott's figure out, still sitting on his bike in her driveway, waving.

Rolling her eyes, she stepped back into her room, pulled on a shawl and some slippers, and then climbed out her window. She crossed her porch and walked down the stairs to meet him. Leaving his bike to lean on its kickstand, Scott walked toward her.

"You seriously rode your bike out here?" She shook her head. "You could've Skyped."

"I know. I just…" He fiddled with the sleeves of his hoodie. "I needed to see you."

Malia cast her gaze past his shoulder, toward the treeline. It was moments like these, when Scott showed an unreal amount of care and concern for her, that she blamed for all these weird feelings that had been cropping up. How was she supposed to get over him when he kept being, well, himself? "I'm fine. Is this about the Derek thing?"

"Of course it is." He sighed. "I've been sitting at home, going over all the worst-case scenarios in my head, and I just… I can't let it go."

Malia nodded.

"Will you look at me? Malia, please?"

She didn't comply immediately. Rather, she felt a mixture of shame and defiance well up inside her. A part of her very much wanted to argue that she could make her own choices and she didn't need to run them by him first. However, another part of her could acknowledge that she'd made a dangerous choice getting in that car and it wasn't made much better by hiding it from him. Although she'd planned to tell him about it, eventually, she still kept it from him. Malia had never really had a reason to lie to Scott before. Not about anything like this. Only about her feelings. Then again, maybe that was the point. When it came to her comfort, her safety, she picked and chose what she wanted to share.

Finally, she let her eyes meet his.

His brow was furrowed and his shoulders were slumped. "He hurt you." The timber of his voice was different; deeper, strained, and coated in unmasked emotion.

"It wasn't on purpose. At least, I don't think it was… He was trying to intimidate me and—"

"And what? He accidentally grabbed you?"

"No. Just…" She shook her head. "It wasn't a big deal."

"But it is. He's looking for you! He- He's purposely targeting you because he knows that I—" Scott clenched his teeth and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he looked younger. Softer, somehow. Not like the 'dangerous' werewolf he and Derek thought him to be. But like the boy she'd known since she was ten. Sweet, kind, good Scott. "Malia, you and Stiles are my best friends. If it wasn't for you guys, I don't know what I'd be doing right now. This whole werewolf thing is hard enough, but now that I know Derek's after you—"

"I'm not making excuses for him, because he's pushing the 'creepy' meter up to 10, but Scott… I got into his car on my own."

He made a strangled, frustrated noise. "Why?"

"Because. I—" She shook her head. "I needed answers! I wanted to know what was going on and he's the only one that can tell us."

"We know what's going on!"

"I don't think we do," she insisted. "I think you being bit and this werewolf thing is just a part of it. I think there's something else, something bigger, and I think he's hiding it."

"Why?" His brow furrowed.

"Allison's dad moving here, whatever wolf bit you—"

"Derek bit me!"

"Has he said that?" She stared at him searchingly. "The one thing we know for sure is that Derek is sketchy and only tells you what he wants you to know. That means there's more to find out."

Scott groaned. "You sound like Stiles when he gets stuck on a mystery."

"Why would he bite you? Why is there a severed body in the woods? Why stick around if you're going to do that? Why search you out and try to keep you from hurting people?" She lifted her shoulders. "There are too many unanswered questions."

"I don't care about that! Okay?" His breathing picked up, chest heaving. The softness faded and in its place was an angry, worried, sixteen year old boy. "I don't care about Derek or why he's here or why he did it. All I care about is getting this thing under control! About keeping you and Stiles and my mom and everyone I care about safe. I don't need to be inducted into some super secret werewolf club. I just want to have a normal life and play lacrosse and go on dates without having to worry about hurting someone."

Malia stared at him a long beat. "I know. And I get that. But… I have questions. And I feel like finding out the answers is going to help you in the long run."

"So, you just climb into some possible serial killer's car?"

"If it means saving your furry ass, then yes!" She stepped up, glaring at him. "You think you're the only one that wants to keep people safe? That has people they care about that could be in danger because of this? You're not! I might not have the teeth or the claws or the extra facial hair to show for it, but I'm just as invested in this as you are."

"You're also a lot more fragile than I am. Proven by the giant hand-shaped bruise on your arm!"

"So what?" She tossed her hands up. "So what if I'm human and breakable and fragile? You think that's going to stop me?"

"No! I think it's going to do the exact opposite!" He stepped forward, until they were toe-to-toe and she could feel his warm, panting breath on her mouth. "You don't run when you're supposed to run. You don't hide when other people hide. Since we were kids, you ran head first into everything! And I've always admired that about you. But not in this, not now. Not against Derek or werewolves or hunters or whatever else is out there."

"I don't know what you want from me here. I told you I would try to be more careful—"

"And then you got a ride home with Derek!"

"And I'd do it again."

"Why?"

"Because I love you!" Her heart leapt up into her throat, threatening to cut off her air supply.

Scott stared at her, wide-eyed.

She felt the sting of rejection before it'd even fully formed on his face or his tongue or in his heart. That 'oh Malia, you know you're my best friend, right? You know I'll always be here, right?' So, she jumped ahead, past the part where he told her she was one of the most important people in his life, but not like that. "You're my best friend. You and Stiles are…" Her voice wavered and she had to swallow to steady it. "I can't afford to lose you. Either of you. So, if that means interrogating a werewolf, then fine. I'll interrogate a werewolf. And maybe it's dangerous and scary and you don't want me to do it, but I can make my own decisions and not you, not my dad or Stiles, nobody gets to tell me what to do."

Scott didn't answer right away, just sort of staring at her. Until finally, he nodded. "I… Yeah. You're right."

Huh? Malia frowned skeptically. "Really? I was expecting more of a fight."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm still worried and I don't like to think that you'll risk yourself for me, but… If it was you, I think I'd do the same thing. I'd probably be a lot more scared, but…" He shook his head. "When I was on that field and Stiles was saying all those things, I hated it. All of it. But the part that really hit me was that maybe I won't be able to keep everyone I love safe. Before this happened, my asthma made me feel weak. Like I couldn't do the things everyone else could and if I tried, I'd eventually end up failing. I fought really hard to get through that. I practiced for months for lacrosse, hoping that I could build up my lung capacity and it wouldn't hold me back. And then this happened and, for the first time, I felt like I was strong enough to do what I wanted to. But now, I look at Derek and I think about how out of control I can get, and it's like I'm not even safe from myself. And nobody around me is either."

Malia softened a little. "You don't have to save everyone… Sometimes you just have to trust that they'll save themselves."

"Yeah." He half-smiled. "I think I'm starting to get that."

Letting out a heavy sigh, she shook her head. "I get it, you know? Wanting to protect us. But, we're going to make choices that you don't always agree with. Especially now, since there's not exactly a book on how to handle your friend turning into a werewolf."

"Maybe you can write one when all of this is over."

She snorted. "Maybe."

He gazed at her a moment, searching her face. "Can I see it?"

"The bruise? It's not even that bad." Still, she shuffled her shawl up and out of the way and raised her arm for him. The porch light didn't offer much, but she guessed it was enough since he seemed perfectly capable of making out the shadowy remnants of Derek's hand on her skin.

He cupped his palm under her elbow to hold it up while his other hand settled atop her forearm. His fingers were gentle as they probed the bruise. "Does it hurt?"

She shook her head. "I'm really fine."

He nodded, but continued to stare at her discolored skin, his brow furrowed.

"It's not you fault. You can't blame yourself for any of this… Except maybe making the choice to go into the woods and search for a severed body, but that's on all of us."

His mouth turned up faintly on one side. "Yeah." His thumb lightly dragged along the length of her forearm, the tips of his fingers skimming down the side. And then he was clearing his throat and letting her go. "I should head back. It's late."

"Yeah." She let her arm fall to her side. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Scott nodded, his hands tucked in the pocket of his hoodie. "Malia?"

"Yeah?"

He stared at her searchingly. "You know I love you too, right?"

It was strange wasn't it, that those words hurt more than they healed. That, for him, those words screamed of an unbreakable bond of friendship. And while much of that was true for her as well, it went so beyond that. Her heart ached with an empty want, ringing hollow instead of full. She wished she could take back her own confession so he could eat the wholesome sincerity of his as well. Because she did love him— more than a silly crush had once implied. She realized that at some point, she'd fallen for her goofy, floppy, best friend, and that she would risk life and limb to keep him alive and safe. And while she was sure that Scott would do the same for her— because that was just the person he was— the drive for him would be different.

In all the books she'd read, all the movies she'd watched, love was always framed as healing instead of hurting. Or, if it did hurt, someone else came along to sweep up the broken pieces and glue them back together. But, Malia had her own broom and dustpan. She would do her own cleaning. "I know," she told him, and she smiled. "Goodnight."

"Night."

She walked away, her arms crossed tight over her front, and she let her smile fall away as she climbed the stairs to her porch.

Love sucked.

…

"You told him you loved him? What!?" Stiles stared at her, wide-eyed. "What happened to getting over him?"

"I didn't mean it like that…" Malia slumped down in the passenger seat of the jeep; it was way too early to be talking about this stuff. But, the ride to school was the only opportunity they had to talk about it candidly. "I was upset, all right? Anyway, he knows I meant it as a friend."

Stiles squinted at her. "Did you, though?"

"Of course." She scowled. "Just because I have a tiny crush on him—"

"Tiny?" He snorted. "Not the adjective I'd use."

"Nobody asked you…" She glared. "Anyway, I think we're okay now."

"'Okay' as in Scott's not going to freak out every time you hitch a ride from a homicidal werewolf? Mmmm… Sounds unlikely." He waved a hand. "In fact, it sounds completely impossible."

"I don't need his approval. I just want him to trust that if I'm in trouble, I'll do whatever I can to keep myself safe."

Stiles turned to look at her, his brow furrowed. "Malia, you are literally the strongest woman I know. Maybe even the strongest person— werewolf strength notwithstanding. And caring about you, worrying about you, that's not underestimating you. It— It's not about that. I'm as human as they come and if I thought for a second that you were in danger, you don't think I'd risk my ass to help you?"

"Of course you would." She frowned. "And I'd do the same for you. I'm not actively looking for Derek. He keeps finding me. I just take the opportunities as they come."

"I get that, I really do. But until we find out what's going on, don't you think it'd be smarter if we did that together?"

"Between lacrosse and Allison, Scott's free time is limited."

"Then let me help you. We can solve this Derek Hale, werewolf mystery together, all right? But that means talking to me about what you find out. And it means trying to avoid being alone so Derek can just appear from the shadows… Are we sure he isn't actually a vampire?"

Malia rolled her eyes.

"Seriously though, you think hybrids are a thing? Like if vampires are real, too, there might be a werepire mix out there somewhere…"

"Completely ignoring the strange segue your brain just took, yeah, I think we should work together to figure this werewolf thing out. Not just for Scott's benefit, even though he clearly needs our help, too. But because I really think something else is going on."

"Okay." Stiles nodded. "Let's Scooby Doo this bitch."

Malia sighed. "I'm already regretting this…"

"What? That's an awesome catch phrase!" He grinned. "Come on… Admit it."

"I'm not talking to you for the rest of the ride."

Stiles just laughed.

…

"I have a problem."

Malia looked up from where she was crouched in front of her locker, digging around for one of her sweaters. She always kept an extra one at school, but there were only gym clothes that definitely needed to be washed, an extra pair of running shoes, and a… lunch bag that she did not recognize. "What's up?" she asked Scott, who was fidgeting next to her. "You look like you really have to pee."

"What? No!" He hooked his thumbs in the straps of his bag and blew out a whining sigh. "My mom texted me. She got tomorrow night off for the game. And then I ran into Allison and she wants to go on some weird double date with Lydia and Jackson after. She told me to invite you and Stiles too, though. So, is that still a date or…?"

"Okay, well, yesterday didn't go terribly. I mean, you were able to control yourself eventually." She stood, dusted her knees off, and grabbed out her books for next class. "And you said you thought you'd be able to recreate it, right?"

"Kind of… Sort of… Probably." He sighed. "What if I can't?"

Malia stared at him. "Bloodshed."

"Maliaaa…" His body slumped and he fell sideways, leaning against the lockers.

"We can test it again today, after school, but you've really only got one choice here." Closing her locker, she stared at him. "Play or don't play. It's up to you."

"That's your big advice?"

"It can't get any simpler than that…" She started down the hall and Scott fell in to step with her. "And I think we both know what you want to do."

He grimaced. "I don't want to hurt anybody."

"Then don't." She looked up at him. "It's one game… There's always another one."

…

At lunch, Malia found herself standing in the hallway with Allison, being introduced to a third boy of Lydia's choosing.

"Allison, this is Brent. He's a varsity basketball player." Lydia grinned up at him coyly. "Brent, this is Allison. She's new here. Just moved to town a couple weeks ago."

"Hey," Brent said, dragging his gaze from Lydia to focus on Allison and then looking curiously at Malia. "Who's she?"

Before Lydia could reply, Malia did, "Terrible Tate. I aggressively beat up assholes under the right circumstances… You're not an asshole, are you, Brent?"

He stared at her, a little wide-eyed. "Uh… No."

"Are you sure?" Malia frowned at him. "'Cause I'm getting a very douchey vibe right now."

"Ignore her." Lydia rolled her eyes. "She doesn't play well with others."

Malia grinned, all teeth. "I thought I was being polite."

"I have to go…" Brent backed up. "Uh, practice. Bye." He turned tail and hurried away then, leaving the three girls to stare after him.

"Real nice, Tate," Lydia snapped. "See, this is why you have no friends."

"And every time you introduce Allison to someone it becomes blindingly clear how you ended up with Whittemore."

Lydia's mouth pursed and her nose wrinkled. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"That your taste in men… sucks." Malia raised an eyebrow. "Also, Brent Bailey has a girlfriend that he frequently cheats on with anything that moves. So, maybe try not setting Allison up with losers."

"The only loser I've seen today is y—"

"Okay, that's enough." Allison separated them with an awkward smile. "Malia, I think Lydia's just trying to introduce me to new people, not set me up with anyone… It's hard being the new girl and she's trying to make it a little easier." She looked to Lydia then. "Right?"

"Right," Lydia chirped, keeping her smug gaze on Malia. "I'm just being a very good friend."

Malia's eyes narrowed. She was about to snap at her again when she noticed Stiles trying to flag her down. Sighing, she muttered, "I have to go. Allison, I'll see you later. Lydia, try not to break an ankle on those stilts."

"These are Christian Louboutins!"

"I don't care," she replied, leaving the two behind in favor of her best friend. "What is with all the gesturing?"

Taking her by the shoulder, Stiles pulled her down the hall to where a set of stairs led up into a hallway. There, she found the Principal, Sheriff Stilinski, and a deputy talking. "What's that about?"

"I don't know, but it has to be serious, right?" Stiles looked back at her, then spotted something past her shoulder, and rushed away. Seconds later, he dragged Scott from his locker to where they'd been standing, watching from the corner. Stiles pointed to the group and said, "Tell me what they're saying."

Scott frowned back at him but then looked ahead, squinting.

After a few seconds, Stiles impatiently jarred Scott's shoulder. "Can you hear 'em?"

"Shh!" Scott focused ahead, relating back to them, "Nine-thirty curfew for anybody under eighteen, because of the body."

"Unbelievable." Stiles stood back and waved his hands around irritably. "My dad's out looking for a rabid animal, while the jerk-off who actually killed the girl is just hangin' out, doing whatever he wants."

"Alleged killer," Malia corrected. "We still don't know for sure."

Both boys pinned her with an unconvinced frown.

She shrugged. "I'm just saying…"

Looking back at Stiles, Scott said, "Anyway, you can't exactly tell your dad the truth about Derek."

Stiles grimaced. "I can do something."

Scott cocked his head. "Like what?"

"Find the other half of the body." Stiles nodded, decided, and turned on his heel to leave.

Scott's hands fell to his sides as he leaned forward in surprise. "Are you kidding?"

But Stiles didn't reply, instead leaving them to stew over this new information.

Malia shrugged. "He's got a point."

"You too?" Scott sighed at her.

"We've talked about it before. If we can find the other half of the body, we can solve this mystery once and for all. If Derek is the killer and/or your alpha, then that kills two birds with one stone. Body equals due cause for the Sheriff to arrest him that has nothing to do with this werewolf business."

"You guys are talking about going back out to the preserve and digging around until we find a body. Which also means trying to avoid a werewolf with super-senses. What if he finds us?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Good thing we have you and your super senses then, huh?"

Scott sighed at her, but then his attention moved past her and he frowned.

Malia turned to find Lydia introducing Allison to yet another semi-popular athlete. "She's been doing that all day."

"What?" Scott looked back at her, wide-eyed. "Really?"

"Yeah. Allison thinks she's just being nice."

"She isn't." Scott's mouth flattened. "She warned me in math class that if I didn't play the game and make sure the team wins that she'll personally make sure Allison find someone else to date." He sighed. "What do I do?"

Malia shrugged. "I'd start by not making my decisions based on peer pressure and scare tactics… But, that's just me."

Scott shook his head and then paused. "You see her jacket?"

Malia looked over to the black fabric hung over Allison's arms. "Yeah. What about it?"

"That's the same jacket Derek used to lure me out last week, after the party… Which means he was here…" He looked up at her. "You think it's a threat?"

"Or just an attention grabber."

Scott ground his teeth. "I can't let him get away with this."

"It's just a jacket, Scott."

"No, it's a sign. That he can get to them— to you, to Allison, to Stiles— anytime he wants."

"You think he's declaring war with a jacket?"

"Maybe not war. But it's definitely a warning."

Malia frowned. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm tired of hiding and avoiding and pretending I haven't noticed what he's doing." Scott lifted his chin and let his eyes flare gold. "If he wants to talk… we'll talk."

…

By the time Scott arrived at the burned up husk that was the Hale house, he was even more angry than he'd been at the school. It wasn't just about Allison, even if she was a big reason as to why he was there. It was more than that. It was showing up at the party and the school, threatening him at his house, cornering Malia in the woods and giving her a ride home. It was the bruise he left on her arm and the constant threat of attack or violence. It was the whole thing.

Tossing his bike aside, he yelled, "Derek!" He shrugged off his backpack, letting it fall to the ground in a heap, his lacrosse stick and helmet strapped to it. "Derek!" There was no answer, but as he stood there, his nose caught the scent of something. His head turned, searching it out, and saw a patch of fresh dirt. The itch of curiosity drew him toward it, but before he could go looking, he caught something out of the corner of his eyes.

When he looked, he found Derek standing on the porch of the Hale house, ominously.

Worked up, he shouted, "Stay away from her!"

"Which 'her' are we talking about, Scott?" Derek walked the length of the porch and hopped down to the ground below. "Allison or Malia?"

"Both!" His hands folded into fists. "Looking for Malia in the woods, giving her rides home, hurting her!"

Derek's eyes narrowed. "I didn't—"

"You left a bruise on her arm." Scott's eyes flared yellow. "Stop looking for her. Stop following her. Stop talking to her."

"It's not my fault that she's the only one willing to listen to reason…" Derek crossed his arms over his chest, not the least bit intimidated. "She asks a lot of questions. Questions you should be asking."

"This isn't about that."

"Isn't it?" Derek shook his head. "You're a threat, Scott. You think your little buddy Stiles can just google werewolves and now you've got all the answers, is that it?" He scoffed. "You don't get it yet, but I'm looking out for you."

"How? All you've done is threaten me. You left me to freak out at that party. You drove Allison home to send me a message. You used her jacket to lure me out!"

"Because you were dangerous. Because I knew you'd shift and it was better to get you somewhere safe, somewhere away from people."

"What about today then? Huh?" Scott stared at him searchingly. "With the jacket."

"I needed to get your attention."

"For what?"

"I know you still plan on playing."

Scott ground his teeth.

"Think about what could happen. You're out on the field, the aggression takes over, and you shift in front of everyone…" Derek bent then, grabbing up Scott's lacrosse stick. "Your mom, all your friends. And when they see you—" He poked Scott in the chest with his stick.

Scott swatted it away, glaring.

Derek tore through the laces of the stick with his claws. "—everything falls apart."

Scott stared, brow furrowed, and then shook his head. "That won't happen."

"Won't it?" Derek stared at him. "You don't know what you're doing, which makes you a liability. Until you change that, you're a threat to everyone around you. Your mom, Allison, and especially Stiles and Malia. They want to help you so they put themselves in harm's way. But what happens when they can't talk you down, huh? What happens when you can't hold back anymore and you attack Stiles again?"

"Stop."

"Or when you tear Malia's throat out with your teeth."

"Stop!" he yelled, vibrating with the intensity of his anger, his teeth elongated and his nails out.

Derek shook his head, looking both judgemental and disappointed. "You're a time bomb. And eventually… you will explode." Derek tossed the lacrosse stick into the air then.

Distracted, Scott caught it, and when he looked back, Derek was gone. Slowly, his features returned to normal, but the weight of Derek's words kept him rooted in spot.

…

After school, Malia was walking with Stiles to his jeep when she got the text. "Scott wants to see us at his place."

Stiles' brow furrowed. "Did he say why? Is it about where he went and why he missed last block?"

Malia thumbed back a response. —'you missed last block. what's up?'

—'i talked to derek… didn't go great. but i think i found something.'

Malia frowned. —'found something? that's not ominous at all.'

—'i know. just meet me at my house and i'll tell you everything. please? and bring stiles.'

She sighed and looked back at Stiles. "He went to Derek's. I told you he would… He said he found something there."

Stiles' eyes lit up. "Like what? Like werewolf stuff or a body stuff?"

"He didn't say. He just said he'd tell us when we got there."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Stiles hurried his steps. "Let's go!"

Malia rolled her eyes and continued her walk to the jeep. While she was just as interested in what Scott had to say, she rather liked annoying Stiles and didn't feel like wasting an opportunity. He glared at her when she finally hopped into the passenger seat.

"Seriously?"

Malia grinned. "Come on. A mystery's waiting, Shaggy."

Stiles turned the ignition and then paused. "Wait, does that make you Scooby?"

"Will you just drive?"

"All right, all right." He pulled the jeep out a little jerkily, waving dismissively at a few other people in the parking lot that honked at his abrupt driving.

It took them fifteen minutes to make it out to Scott's, much of which was spent listening to Stiles wax paranoia about what Scott might've stumbled upon. "Could be the body. Could be multiple bodies… Or maybe it's something even creepier, like Derek keeps the remains of his dead family propped up in the house." He grimaced. "I hope it's not that one."

Malia sighed. "I seriously doubt that. The bodies would've been taken in by police and buried by now. Or cremated."

"Died in a fire only to face another fire." He shook his head and tisked. "Dark."

"Why don't we just wait to get to Scott's and hear what he has to say?"

"Because." He grinned. "This is fun!"

Finally reaching Scott's, Malia took her time leaving the jeep and walking through the McCall house while Stiles took off like a shot and raced up the stairs two at a time. She could hear Stiles desperately asking, "What did you find? How did you find it? Where did you find it? And, yes, I've had a lot of Adderall, so—"

"I found something at Derek Hale's house," Scott interrupted. "I went out there to confront him about the jacket and Malia and just, everything."

"Okay, and?"

Malia walked into the bedroom to see Stiles standing impatiently, his leg jittering.

Looking from Stiles to Malia, Scott said, "There's something buried there— I could smell blood."

Stiles lit up. "That's awesome!" His voice fell. "I mean, that's terrible. Whose blood?"

Malia rolled her eyes. "He's a werewolf, not a psychic."

"I know, but still. Was there, like, a sign of who it might be or…?"

Scott shook his head. "I don't know. But when we find out, your dad—" He pointed at Stiles. "—nails Derek for the murder. And then we get back to figuring out how to make sure I play lacrosse without changing, because there's no way I'm not playing tomorrow night."

Stiles grinned excitedly. "So, we're going body hunting again? This time in the less creepy light of day… I'm in."

"Of course you are." Malia turned her attention to Scott. "What happened out there?"

Scott's mouth flattened. "We talked."

"About?"

"About Allison and the jacket and… It's whatever. He thinks I'm a liability. And I think he's a killer, so…"

"So, let's say we put him away for the murder. Then what?"

"Then…" His brow furrowed. "Then he doesn't kill anyone else and things go back to normal."

Malia crossed her arms. "Derek going to jail doesn't fix the fact that you're a werewolf and that we know almost nothing about what that means."

"Okay… but having him out of jail isn't helping much either. I thought you'd be happy. He won't be able to follow you anymore. And, if he really did kill that girl, she'll get justice."

"Of course I want justice for her. But, no offense to her, she's already dead. There's no changing that. Finding out more information about you and werewolves in general feels a little more important."

"Than catching a murderer?" Stiles scoffed. "Priorities, Malia."

"Okay, you just want to solve a murder, because you can't wait for the FBI academy. I'm trying to make sure we gather enough information from Derek before we completely alienate him from us."

"Hey! I'm interested in doing both of those things…" Stiles paused. "I just think finding the body should take precedence since Derek saw Scott today and he might get spooked and move the body. So, small window to act on it."

Scott nodded. "He's right. If he thinks I noticed the body, he could do something, and then we'll have no way to find it again."

Malia clenched her teeth. They had a point. As much as she wanted to utilize Derek's knowledge, she also recognized that he was a threat. Or, at least, he kept presenting himself as one. "All right, fine. We find the body and then we get as much out of Derek as we can while he's locked up."

"Great. Just one stop first." Scott started for the door with the two of them following.

"Where?" Malia wondered.

"The hospital… I want to check the morgue, see if the body smells the same. If it does, then we know it was him. If it doesn't… I don't know. I still want to know what's buried out there."

"Good idea. Could be a totally different body." Stiles nodded, snapping his fingers. "So, what, we just need to break into the morgue, right?"

"Right."

Malia looked between them. "The morgue… at the hospital Scott's mom works at… Because none of us will get recognized there."

Scott paused. "She's right."

"So, we'll need a distraction." Stiles nodded. "Scott needs to be with the body, so you and I…" He motioned to Malia, "will have to be there for another reason."

"Like what?"

Malia smirked. "Like bringing Melissa dinner. For all the hard work she does."

…

Beacon Hills Hospital was busy, as to be expected on a Friday night. Distracted doctors, nurses, and paramedics walked to and fro, folders and clipboards in hand. The waiting room was filled with scattered people, each in their own world. Attached to a wall was a sign listing off directions to nearby areas: E.R./Admissions, Laboratory, and Morgue. Stiles pointed it out and Scott nodded, making for the door leading toward the morgue.

"Good luck, I guess," Stiles said.

"Thanks."

A nervous Scott pushed through the door and then Malia turned on her heel. "Okay. Let's find Melissa. This food is getting cold."

"Right!"

They walked ahead, ready to ask the front desk for directions for which area Melissa was working in when Stiles let out a noise of excitement. He knocked his hand against Malia's shoulder frantically. "No way…"

Lydia was sitting on a chair, twirling her hair around her finger.

"Is this fate?" Stiles wondered.

"Maybe it's gonorrhea."

He glared at her, but Malia shrugged.

"Do whatever you have to, I'm gonna go find Melissa."

"Yeah, yes, you do that." He waved her off before clearing his throat and approaching Lydia. "Hey, Lydia, you probably don't remember me…"

Rolling her eyes, Malia continued to the front desk to check in. "Hey, can you direct me to where Melissa McCall is? Super overworked nurse with a heart of gold, very little patience, and a sarcastic streak to envy…"

The receptionist snorted. "Two halls up and take a left."

Malia grinned. "Awesome, thanks."

Taking off, Malia made her way down the hall, briefly catching sight of Jackson Whittemore sitting on an emergency bed, his arm exposed as he nodded along to something a doctor was saying. Continuing down the hall, she took a left, and eventually spotted Melissa, reading over a clipboard. Hurrying over to her, she pasted on a smile just as Melissa looked up.

Melissa's brows hiked. "Did you bring me food?"

Malia shrugged. "Nothing big. Mostly just a burger and a salad. I was gonna get you fries, but Stiles keeps harping on about the benefits of eating your greens, so…"

Melissa snorted. "He's not wrong." Tucking the clipboard under her arm, she reached for the bag and then eyed Malia curiously. "Any specific reason you're bringing this by?"

"Just to say thanks…? You know, for being you and doing everything you do."

"Uh-huh. Well, that was vague." Melissa crooked her finger for Malia to follow and then made her way to a break room, where she settled down at a table and started unbagging her food. "This have anything to do with the conversation we had last weekend and that crush you have on someone…?"

Malia's heart skipped. "Uh, yeah. Kind of." It was as valid as any excuse she could come up with, so she'd take it.

"How's the marble?"

Grimacing, she said, "About the size of a bowling ball and twice as heavy."

Melissa smiled understandingly. "So, no better then?"

"Possibly worse." She slumped back against her chair. "But, I've been thinking about it. About what you said about just riding it out."

"Okay. And?"

"And… I think you're right. I think… I can't control how I feel, but I can do other things. To move on, I mean…" She licked her lips. "There's this guy that's been asking me to go to a party and I keep putting it off. He's not asking me as a date, just as a friend, but he keeps telling me that I'm sacrificing my social life and I'm hiding because of this crush and… I don't know. I don't think he's wrong, exactly. It might not be the only reason that I avoid going to parties, but… it's part of it. I just got comfortable, you know? I found this little cocoon that I fit in and it works for me."

"And now you're ready to be a butterfly?"

"Maybe just a semi-social moth."

Melissa bit her lip to hide a grin. "Whatever works for you, honey."

Malia nodded and took a deep breath. "I think I should. I think… I know that if I don't do anything, I'm just gonna be stuck, pining over him for the foreseeable future, and I don't want that. It…" She swallowed tightly. "It hurts and… I just want something for myself, you know?"

Reaching across the table, Melissa covered her hand. "I get it."

Malia sighed and offered a small, relieved smile. "Okay, well…" Clearing her throat, she waved a thumb toward the door and stood from her chair. "I should go. I just wanted to drop this off to say thanks."

"You're welcome. And Malia?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't need to feed me to talk to me." Melissa stared at her seriously. "I'm always here for you if you need me."

Malia's eyes stung enough that she blinked a few times. "Thanks."

Melissa nodded, before giving Malia the courtesy of looking away so she wouldn't feel so emotionally exposed.

While Melissa dug into her salad, Malia took her leave, making her way back through the hospital and toward the waiting room. As she passed Lydia and Jackson, she overheard the tail end of their conversation.

"You should get another cortisone shot right before the game, too. The pros do it all the time," Lydia said. "You want to be a little high school amateur? Or, do you want to go pro?"

While they started making out, Malia grimaced, and made her way toward Stiles, who was pretending to read a leaflet titled The Menstrual Cycle while not so subtly observing Lydia and Jackson.

Scott appeared from the hallway and grabbed the leaflet out of Stiles' hands to get his attention.

Startled, Stiles gave a strangle cry and looked up, "Holy God!"

Malia came to a stop next to them. "Well?"

"The scent was the same," Scott informed them.

Stiles shoved up from his chair. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Stiles let out a sigh. "So, he did bury the other half of the body on his property…" He turned to Malia. "Told you."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, excuse me for wanting proof."

Scott's brows hiked. "And now we have it."

Stiles nodded. "So, I say we use it."

"How?"

Stiles paused and glanced at Malia. "Okay, just… tell me something first, all right?"

Confused, Scott nodded. "Sure."

"Are you doing this because you want to stop Derek, or because you want to play in the game, and he said you couldn't?"

Malia looked between them, a little surprised.

Scott took a deep breath. "There are bite marks on the legs, Stiles— bite marks." He looked at Malia then. "You're right, Derek probably does know something. But, here's what I know. There's a body that smells like the one in the morgue buried in Derek's yard. He's the only other werewolf I've met since I was bit. He's purposely used you and Allison to lure me out. He's threatened to kill me. And he's dangerous… I have to stop him. And everything else I need to know about this werewolf stuff, I'll find out another way. Until then, I have you two to help keep me under control. It's not perfect. But, I can't let him walk around free if he's seriously hurting people."

Malia flattened her lips and nodded. "Okay. You're right."

"Great." Stiles clapped his hands together. "Now that we're all on the same page, we're gonna need some shovels."

tbc

author's note: sooo, we explored the idea of anchors a little more this chapter. even though the characters don't know that's what they're looking for, they are inadvertently trying to find scott an anchor to hold on to. in that particular scene, scott says something important. ;)

also got to see papa!tate this chapter. a few people have been curious about how his and malia's relationship would be explored. this is just a small glance at that. it will be explored more, but as malia mentions, he's been quite absent from her life, which is causing some frustration and resentment on her end.

and, there was technically a confession. even if she immediately covered it up. it still counts, right? :P

i also said there'd be a lot more scott/malia in this chapter, so i hope it made up for what felt like a lack of it last chapter.

things to look forward to next chapter: grave digging, a confrontation, seriously intense scott/malia, and bed sharing. yayyy.

thanks for reading, please try to leave a review!
- Lee | Fina