word count: 10,490
polyvore: username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under collections for one named after this story
episode: 1x02 - second chance at first line

VII.

The trio camped out in Stiles' jeep, tucked away in the woods, waiting for a sign that Derek had left his house. There was no way they could go digging up his yard unless he wasn't there to catch them. Unfortunately, it took hours. Which was why it was no surprised when Stiles passed out, forehead stuck to the door window.

Malia was sprawled out in the backseat, an arm tucked behind her head.

Scott too was wide awake, staring through the trees to Derek's house in the distance. With a snort, he broke the silence. "You know what's ironic about this?"

She turned her head to see him. "What?"

"The night I was bit, I was gonna stay home and rest up for lacrosse try outs…"

Her brows hiked knowingly. "And right now you should be at home, resting for the big game."

Scott sighed. "Yeah."

"Hey, how do we know he doesn't know we're here…? Maybe that's why he hasn't left."

Scott shook his head. "His heartbeat hasn't changed."

She stared at his profile, mouth pursed. "You can hear his heartbeat?"

"Yeah. I can hear everybody's heartbeat if I really try…"

Malia hummed. "Do they sound different?"

He shifted in his seat to look back at her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, how do you know it's Derek's heart and not like… some squirrel somewhere?"

He smiled slowly. "Squirrel hearts beat faster than humans. But I know it's Derek because of the location. I can hear his breathing and the stairs creak when he steps on them."

"But, if you can hear him, how do you know he can't hear you?"

"He seems distracted. I don't think he's expecting anyone to be out here this late at night… And his heart has been steady since we got here." Scott shrugged. "Anyway, I think if he knew we were here, he'd confront us."

Malia thought about it. Derek wasn't exactly subtle and had no qualms about letting them know how little patience he had for them. So, confronting them was exactly up his alley. "Makes sense."

Scott's mouth kicked up at the corner, but it fell shortly after. "Does it freak you out at all?"

"What? The super-hearing and stuff?"

He nodded.

Malia turned her eyes up thoughtfully. "Not in the way you probably think."

Scott's brow wrinkled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… It doesn't freak me out like I think you're a freak. It's more like… I don't know what it means or where it's going and I don't like that." She stared at the dented jeep ceiling, listening to Stiles' faint snoring for a moment. "You remember when we were kids and we used to play that dumb superhero game?"

Scott chuckled. "Yeah. Super Stiles who had every ability you could think of, including making pizza appear out of thin air."

Together, they said, "With extra pepperoni."

Malia grinned. "I think it's like that. In his head, he's seeing what it was like then. All the crazy plans we'd come up with to save the day."

"We weren't saving anything. Most of the time, we just climbed trees and told stories."

"Because that's all they were then. All they could be. Just stories." She sighed. "I'm not saying that getting bit by some jerk werewolf means that you have to throw on some spandex and start fighting supervillains. But, do you remember what your superpower was?"

Scott's gaze fell a moment and the corner of his mouth raised. "Healing."

"Yeah." She stared at him. "Maybe this is your origins story."

Scott frowned then, looking ahead once more. "That's when you're tested the most. And sometimes failure means becoming the villain."

"That's not who you are."

Scott opened his mouth to reply, but paused and sat forward in his seat. "He's leaving."

Malia sat up and leaned between the two front seats. Distantly, she could make out the tail lights of Derek's Camaro as he pulled away from the Hale house. They waited until they were sure he'd gone down the road before they jarred Stiles awake.

"What? Who? Where?" Stiles blinked wildly, throwing his arms around defensively.

"He left." Malia shoved his shoulder. "Come on. We need to get in there and start digging before he gets back."

Scrubbing a hand over his eyes, Stiles turned the ignition in the jeep. "He wouldn't just leave for a few minutes, right? I mean, he didn't take off to the corner store for a Yoo-hoo..."

Slowly, Stiles pulled his jeep out from its cover and parked it part way up the dirt driveway.

Climbing out, Malia moved around to the front of the jeep and leaned against it, staring up at the eerie, burned remnants of the Hale house. A shiver ran down her back and her stomach tied itself in a knot. "Hey, remember when we talked about coming out here during the day? When it was less creepy?"

Stiles shrugged and passed out the shovels. "Better coverage if someone shows up."

"From a werewolf?" She shook her head. "You don't think that plan's a bit flawed?"

Scott frowned. "Guys, something's different…"

"Different how?" Stiles wondered, flicking on a flashlight and letting the beam travel between them.

"I don't know." He sighed. "Let's just get this over with."

Together, the three of them walked up the driveway to circle around the house. Between the cloudy moonlit sky, the looming house, and the rustling trees of the forest, it made for an eerie trek. Malia had never liked the feeling of being afraid. She was sure most didn't. But that unnerved feeling, stuck on edge, anticipating attack, made her whole body tense. Like a cat with its back up, ready to spit and scratch whatever appeared.

She felt something brush against her elbow and whipped her head to the side, only to find Scott had reached for her, his fingers lightly brushing against her arm. He gave her an encouraging look, even if he too looked a little uncomfortable with their surroundings. She nodded at him, half in thanks and half in mutual support.

Stiles hurried his steps and crouched next to where the ground was disturbed, like an unmarked grave. He put his flashlight down to light their way and then stood, shovel dug an inch into the dirt. "Good thing your asthma cleared up, huh buddy?" He grinned at Scott.

Rolling his eyes, Scott moved across from him, stuck his shovel down into the earth, and got to work.

Malia dragged her shovel over and joined them.

…

An hour later, they'd dug up at least four feet of dirt and found nothing.

"This is taking way too long." Scott wiped his arm over his face and looked around nervously.

Stiles continued to dig. "Just keep going."

"What if he comes back?"

"A better question is why did he leave at almost five in the morning?" Malia looked between them. "Where did he go? And why didn't he hear us lurking in the woods?"

"All valid questions that I don't have answers to." Stiles shrugged. "Look, if he shows up, then we get the hell out of here."

Scott's brow furrowed. "What if he catches us?"

"I have a plan for that."

"Which is?"

Stiles paused, a hand on his hip as he panted. "We all run in a different direction. Whoever he catches first, too bad."

Scott shook his head. "I hate that plan!"

"Stiles should hate that plan." Malia pushed her hair back off her sweaty face. "You're supernaturally fast and I run track. He'd be werewolf chow."

"Hey!" Stiles complained, shoving his shovel back into the ground. "Don't underestimate my ability to— Oh, stop, stop, stop!" He held a hand out to keep them all still. "I hit something."

Malia's brows hiked. She looked from him to Scott and then down to the ground below. "Well?"

All together, the three of them tossed their shovels aside and then bent to dig out the last of the dirt with their hands. They found loose ropes tied around rough fabric and started to untie the knots.

"Hurry!"

"I'm trying." Stiles grimaced. "Did he have to tie the thing in, like, 900 knots?"

Each of them worked at undoing one of the ropes, before finally, they gave. Stiles and Scott pulled back either side of the fabric to reveal—

A furry head beneath.

Shrieking, the two boys leapt from the hole, but Malia stayed. Partly because she'd frozen in surprise, and partly because she recognized it wasn't a human body. But rather— "It's a wolf."

"Yeah, I can see that!" Stiles turned to Scott. "I thought you said you smelled blood, as in human blood."

Scott shook his head and shrugged. "I told you something was different!"

Malia looked the wolf's body over. Its eyes were glazed and grey, dark fur was matted with blood and mud, and, strangely, it was severed right through the center of its torso.

Stiles frowned. "This doesn't make sense…"

Scott, both spooked over what they found and nervous that Derek could come back at any moment, told them, "We gotta get out of here."

"Yeah, okay. We'll just cover it up."

Malia still knelt in the hole, her fingers gently touching the wolf's ear. It smelled, there was no doubt about it. She was briefly reminded of her dad and his hunting trips. How he'd bring home a deer or an elk and carve it up to put away in the freezer. This felt different though. Wolves weren't generally hunted for food. But, more than that, why would a werewolf hunt a real wolf? And why sever it like the human body had been? Was it some kind of ritual or—?

"Malia?"

She looked up sharply, shaken from her thoughts. "Huh?"

Scott stared at her worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just… thinking."

"Guys…" Stiles pointed ahead, past Malia's shoulder. "Do you see that flower?"

Scott glanced at it and then stared at Stiles strangely. "Yeah, what about it?"

"I think it's wolfbane…"

Scott's brow wrinkled. "What's that?"

Malia pulled herself out from the hole and sat on the edge.

"Uh, haven't you ever seen the Wolf Man?" Stiles wondered.

Scott shook his head. "No."

"Lon Chaney Jr.? Claude Rains? The original, classic werewolf movie?"

Scott looked to Malia, who shrugged. "No! What?"

Stiles sighed, before muttering, "You are so unprepared for this…" He left the hole then and walked to the flower. Gently, he reached out and plucked it up. As he did, a rope was revealed to be died around the roots. As Stiles continued to pull the rope up, it circled the grave, around and around in a swirl, which glowed a brief red as he broke the pattern.

Scott watched him go, his brow furrowed, but Malia had her attention on the wolf, which had slowly transformed.

"Scott…"

He looked at her and then down, and his eyes widened in shock. "Stiles…"

Naked and severed at the torso, was a dirt and blood covered woman, staring up at them from wide, dead eyes.

"Holy…"

Malia pushed up to stand and moved around to Scott's side, their shoulders bumping. She stared at the woman, almost ghoulish in her death, facial expression caught in a moment of shock and terror. She felt Scott's fingers brush her own before his whole hand swallowed hers and she squeezed.

Well, that was one mystery solved.

…

Malia was too wired to sleep. After finding the body, Stiles had called it into 911 and they were forced to go to the station to give their statements on what they'd found. Meanwhile, the sheriff's department had set up their version of a sting, waiting for Derek to return to the Hale house so they could arrest him. While Scott and Stiles decided to hang around to see him brought in, Malia went home to shower off the night and get a few hours' rest before the lacrosse game later that night. However, after getting home, and taking a ridiculously hot shower, she found herself wide awake.

She couldn't get the girl's face out of her head. Her eyes, big and wide and empty. Her mouth, slack-jawed as if mid-yell. And her skin, gray and swampy. Malia had watched her turn from a literal wolf into a woman. It was simultaneously fascinating and disturbing.

One would think, after the intensity of the night, Malia would crash. Instead, she felt like she was still running on high. Which was why she decided to burn off a little more of her energy. Stiles had texted her as soon as Derek was taken into custody, which suggested that the woods might just be murderer free, so Malia laced up her sneakers and decided a jog would help exhaust her enough to return home for a much-needed nap.

Plugging her ear buds in, she hopped off her porch and jogged toward the tree line, making her way toward a running path she'd long memorized. All she wanted was to drown everything out. Good and bad, she just wanted to forget the entirety of the last two weeks and soak up nothing but the smell of the trees around her and the noise of her music blotting out anything and everything else.

Malia made her way up to the ridge overlooking the town, the same one she'd last been confronted at by Derek. Today, under the warmth of the sun, she felt better about it. She still wasn't sure what to make of Derek. All signs pointed to him being a killer and he wasn't doing a good job of suggesting otherwise. But something about it just didn't sit right with her. She felt like she was missing something important.

Turning around, she decided to make her way back to the house. She was starting to feel the adrenaline wear off and the weight of the last day was dragging her feet. Still, she kept up a steady jog through the trees, passing a few runners as she went. It wasn't until she went off path to get back to her house that she felt it. Something, or someone, was watching her. Malia's heart sped up but she didn't change her pace. Depending on whether it was an animal or a person, it could take that as a sign to pursue her and she didn't want that. But she needed to come up with a plan and quick.

Her first idea was to shut off her music. At the moment, it was a hindrance. Reaching into the pocket of her jacket, she used her thumb to unplug her earbuds. The sound of the forest immediately filled her ears. A distant creek, birds chirping, foliage crushing underfoot. Beyond that, however, she could hear the snap of twigs under someone else. Someone picking up speed and coming her way.

Malia suddenly broke out into a run, racing forward and leaping onto a fallen log. She used it as leverage to push herself forward and ducked low to avoid a hanging branch. She could see her house through the dense trunks of the trees. So close, but so far. Pumping her arms at her side, she pushed past the burn in her thighs and the quick hammering of her heart. She just needed to—

Suddenly, a figure was in front of her, and it wasn't unfamiliar.

Yellow eyes, overgrown sideburns and eyebrows, and clawed fingers.

Malia stumbled to a stop, her hand on her heart. "Scott?"

It still struck her, how strange it was that it looked like him, beyond the wolf-like additions, but there was something distinctly less than human about him. The way he cocked his head and stared at her, his eyes eerily focused. A shiver swam through her that felt a whole lot like dread.

Swallowing, she held a hand out. "Scott, it's Malia… You know me, okay? You don't want to hurt me…"

He cocked his head the other direction and bared his teeth, his nostrils flaring.

Panic flooded her and Malia felt a fine tremble start growing inside of her, making her arms and legs and hands shake. "Okay, Scott, listen to me… You remember when you first turned? I brought you home and you freaked out, but we breathed through it. Focus on your breathing!"

He let out a huffing snort.

"Okay, not the breathing thing. But, what about Allison? Your first date. You— You danced." She stared at him searchingly. "Or before that. At the vet, when Shiloh was hurt. There was an eyelash on her cheek."

He lurched forward a step and Malia pulled back, a strangled cry caught in her throat. Never in her life had Malia imagined a moment when she would be afraid of Scott McCall, but this… This was it.

What had Derek said?

—"The Scott you knew is gone. When he shifts, he's something else. He doesn't see people— he doesn't see you or your friends or his family. Until he's able to control the shift, he's just a loose, feral animal. And he will hurt people. It doesn't have to be intentional. It'll happen anyway."

Maybe this wasn't Scott. Or maybe it was— stuck somehow, buried in his subconscious somewhere, unaware of what he was doing.

Malia closed her eyes in an effort to block out her fear and tried to think. Yesterday, when they were testing his trigger, he'd said what brought him back was everything. Her and Stiles and Allison and his mom. All of it combined…

"Okay, uh, Scott, you need to think of Stiles. O-of video games on Sundays. Of Star Wars and his really, really bad Yoda impression. Think of last summer and playing lacrosse together. And when you were twelve and you dug out your dad's old suit and wore it to the cemetery to be there with Stiles on the anniversary of his mom's death."

She opened her eyes slowly and found that Scott had come closer, crossing half the space between them. Despite a very insistent part of her wanting to pull away, she didn't. "And your mom. Think of your mom, Scott. Working all those late-night shifts at the hospital, but she always makes time. She's always there. She's going to be there, tonight, to see you play! Think… Think about all those terrible cookies she tried to make when we were kids and they always burned, every time. But, we ate them anyway. We'd just cut off the bottoms, remember?" She laughed thickly, her chest aching.

"Think… Think of…" Malia could feel the heat of his body against hers as he stepped even closer, enough now that if he wanted to, he could claw her face off. She met his eyes, still that unnatural yellow. For a moment, her mind went blank, but then— "You were wearing red when we met. This bright red t-shirt. And you smiled at me— a big, dumb, goofy smile— and I thought… How am I supposed to be friends with this dork? But… I was. I am." A tear slipped down her cheek that she blamed entirely on the overwhelming sensation of fear that had gripped her entire body. "You're my best friend, Scott. You've been there for every bad day since we met and you never flinched. And I used to be so scared… I used to think that I could n-never get close to anybody after my mom and Kylie, but then you and Stiles were there and you… You gave me hope. You made me feel like I had a family again. And you can't take that away, no matter what you do… You're always going to be my friend."

Scott stood toe to toe with her now. His hand raised and clawed fingers dragged down her cheek. But there was no pressure, no intent to harm— he just followed the path of a tear until he reached her jaw.

Letting out a shaky breath, Malia carefully raised her hands and pressed the tips of her fingers against his heart. "I know you can do this. I know you can hear me… Just come back, okay? Whatever triggered you, whatever you're scared of, we'll deal with it. You, me, and Stiles. Together."

He didn't answer. He didn't even move. But then, slowly, the hair receded from his face, his eyes cleared, and his teeth shortened. Sweating and dizzy, he stared at her, confused. "What happened?"

Malia let out a strangled breath. "Nothing. Nothing, you're okay." She hooked her arms around his waist and hugged him. "We're okay."

"Malia…?" He hugged her back, worried and panicked now, his hand cupped behind her head. "You're shaking…"

Malia squeezed her eyes closed and pressed against him, her chin hooked over his shoulder.

"Did I hurt you? Are you okay?"

She nodded, but buried her face against his neck to hide the tears that refused to be blinked away. "I'm fine." Her voice was little more than an emotional whisper.

Minutes passed. Scott's fingers were threaded in her hair, his palm warm against the nape of her neck. His other hand was rubbing her back soothingly.

Malia focused on steadying her breath; trying to bring her heartbeat down and keep her knees from giving out on her completely. Sniffling, she stepped back. "Come on. My house isn't far from here."

He stared at her searchingly, his brow furrowed.

Malia wiped at her nose with her wrist and tugged on the sleeve of his shirt. "It's been a long day. We haven't slept, we dug up a body, and we got a killer arrested. I'm exhausted."

He nodded and followed along beside her as she made her way through the woods to the dirt road that led to her house. She could feel his shoulder brushing hers and she wanted to say something. Wanted to dilute this intensity of the moment with something funny, anything to distract from what had happened. But she couldn't. She was entirely sapped. Instead, she asked, "Do you remember anything?"

"I… I was with Stiles. We watched Derek get arrested and then we were driving, headed home, but something was off. It was like I couldn't breathe and I was freaking out. Stiles— He sounded so… excited. And I don't know, I just snapped. It was like all he could say was that it was cool, you know? This werewolf thing. But it's not, or it doesn't feel that way. And then I found the rope and the wolfsbane in his bag. I think it was doing something to me 'cause the next thing I know, I'm shifting and I can't do anything to stop it. So, I ran…" He shook his head. "It gets kind of blurry after that. I was running through the woods and I was looking for something, but I don't know what… or who. And then you were there and… I heard your voice."

Malia nodded. "I did what you said. I tried to remind you of everyone you cared about. Everyone that mattered. And it worked. You calmed down."

Scott turned to look at her, expression twisted up. "You're sure I didn't hurt you?"

"You scared me… a little."

"I'm sorry." He reached for her, his fingers brushing her wrist. "Malia, I would never…"

"I know." She blinked quickly against the heat in her eyes. "Anyway, you didn't do anything. You were just… intense."

"Intense how?"

"The way you were looking at me… Just, your body language and this vibe I was getting. I don't know. It was weird." She sighed. "Anyway, this is good."

His brow furrowed. "How?" He pulled her to a stop just at the beginning of her driveway, kicking up little clouds of dirt. "From where I'm standing, none of this is good."

"But now we know it works! You just have to really focus. Remember your friends and your mom and… Allison." Malia nodded. "I'm not saying it's perfect, but… Maybe you play the game tonight and instead of tearing someone apart, you get to do something you love and… And then Lydia can back off and everything will be like you want."

"What if it's different? What if I get out on that field and I can't do it on my own? I've had you and Stiles before and the chains kept me from doing too much damage."

Malia looked past him, to the woods. "All I'm saying is that you could've hurt me, but you didn't. You didn't have your control, but some part of you listened. It knew to stop."

Scott frowned. "Maybe."

They lingered there, the moment hanging between them, with a thousand things going unsaid. Until, eventually, Malia started backing up toward her house. "Come on. I'm hungry and you should get some sleep before the game."

He stared after her. "Is your dad…?"

"Truck's not here. He probably picked up a weekend shift." She turned on her heel and made her way up the porch. "We can text Stiles, let him know you're okay."

Slowly, Scott followed after her.

Malia sent off a quick text to Stiles to let him know Scott was okay before putting her phone away and walking into her kitchen.

Scott kicked off his sneakers at the front door and then wandered after her, hanging out by the edge of the counter as she pulled out bread and a frying pan. She found that the tension bled away the longer she focused on something simple. Heat the pan, butter the bread, unwrap the cheese slices, and check periodically so they didn't burn. It was simple, but it gave her something to do. She could see the same was true for Scott. His shoulders slowly loosened up and he started moving around the kitchen, getting out plates and paper towel and pouring them each a glass of milk. By the time they sat down to eat, she could almost pretend she hadn't just faced off against a possibly homicidal werewolf wearing her best friend's face.

Done eating, she dusted her hands off, knocked back the last of her milk, and took her plate and cup to the sink to quickly wash up, leaving them in the rack to air dry. Scott followed right behind her.

"Sleep," she decided, making her way to her bedroom. She could hear her his footsteps follow behind her and wondered if it was just in her head, how important this moment felt.

Shiloh looked up from where she'd been napping in her bed. Her tail wagged and she rolled herself over, splitting her attention between the two of them.

Scott lingered by the door, crouching to scrub his fingers over Shiloh's head.

Meanwhile, Malia dug a pair of shorts and a tank top out of her dresser to sleep in. She pulled the curtains closed on her windows before moving to her bathroom door. "I still have a pair of your shorts. They're in the bottom drawer."

Scott nodded and Malia disappeared into the bathroom.

As she undressed and pulled on her pajamas, she realized her hands were shaking. Moving to the sink, she turned on the water and filled her palms with it, raising it to splash her face. She tried to control her breathing when it seemed to increase against her will. The moment was just so vivid. She hated the idea of being afraid. Hated that she couldn't control it or the overwhelming sensation that was still swamping her. She wanted to tear it out of herself and stomp it quiet. But, it was there. Hovering.

Pressing her hands to her face, she breathed. In and out; she focused on her lungs expanding and deflating. When she was sure that her fear wouldn't show on her face, she made her way to the door.

Scott was sitting on the edge of her bed, elbows resting on his knees.

Malia tossed her jogging clothes in her laundry basket, flicked off the bathroom light, and made her way to the bed. She stripped back the blanket and sheet and crawled in on her side of the bed.

Scott remained where he was, examining his hands, his shoulders hunched.

She stared at the grey and black lines of his shirt, his hoodie laying in a crumpled heap on her floor.

"I don't know what I'd do," Scott said, his voice muted and quiet. "If I hurt you… If I killed you… I'd never forgive myself."

Malia's heart clenched. She reached out and pressed the tips of her fingers against his back. "I'm okay."

"I know. But, what if—"

"Hey." She cut off him off before he could wander down a train of thought that led nowhere good. "Do you remember when we first met?"

"What?" He looked back at her over his shoulder, her forehead wrinkled. "Yeah…"

"I thought you were a dork."

Scott sighed. "I'm pretty sure you still do."

A faint smile broke across her mouth. "I pushed Stiles away a lot when we met. I really didn't want to be his friend. Or, I told myself that anyway."

"What changed?"

"He told me about his mom. How much he missed her and how things weren't really the same since she died, but that his dad was really trying, so he tried, too. I was going through the same thing with my dad and… It felt good to know that someone else got through it. That I wasn't some freak because I lost my mom and my sister. And that it was okay to be angry, to wish she was still there, to miss them as much as I did…" She turned her gaze upward, to the ceiling. "So, I gave him a chance and it worked. We got along okay and then he was introducing me to you and… You were so nice and friendly and… I thought you'd hate me."

"What? Why?"

"Because I wasn't nice. I was mean and angry and I had such a short fuse back then."

"You still do sometimes."

She snorted a laugh. "Yeah."

Scott shifted so he was facing her better, resting a leg on the bed while the other dangled to the floor. "Anyway, I knew you were just mad because of your mom and Kylie… Stiles told me ahead of time. And you weren't always mean or angry. Most of the time, you were just scared."

Malia looked at him searchingly.

Scott smiled. "I know what it's like to lose a parent. Maybe not the same way, but… After my dad left, I used to cling to my mom. I was so scared that one day I'd wake up and she just wouldn't be there anymore. That she'd leave too and it'd just be me, alone, in this big house… It took a while to figure out she never would. I guess I thought it'd be the same for you."

Her heart felt like it was beating both too fast and too slow; it was a strange sensation. "I was scared. I still am sometimes."

Scott nodded. "You know I'll never leave you, right? Me, you, Stiles… We're not going anywhere."

"Yeah." She blinked quickly. "Anyway, when we met, you were wearing this bright red t-shirt with some superhero on the front—"

"The Flash."

"—whatever. And I just remember thinking you were such a dork. But you were smiling at me so big and you were so friendly and nice and I thought for sure I'd do something wrong and Stiles wouldn't talk to me anymore and you'd hate me… Only, you didn't. Somehow, you became this really important person in my life. And when we were out there today and you weren't you, I thought about that. About who you are and who you've always been… I'm not gonna lie, I was scared. I don't think I've ever been more scared in my life. But… I still had hope. That something would happen and you'd realize what you were doing and… I don't know. I guess it's dumb and naïve to think that you'll just know, even when you're shifted, not to hurt someone. I know Derek says that it's like seeing red and you can't control it. But, something happened. Some part of you pushed through it." She shook her head. "I know it's scary for you, thinking that you might do something or hurt someone—"

"Not just someone. That's bad enough. But I don't want to hurt you." He stared down at her seriously. "You cried and you were shaking and I did that."

"Scott—"

"No, just, listen…" He took a deep breath. "I'm not perfect. I make a lot of dumb mistakes and I don't always think things through. And the last thing I want is for you to get caught in the crossfire of that… Derek said something to me yesterday, about how you and Stiles are the most at risk because you're willing to be out there with me, to put your lives on the line to help me, and he's right. You are."

"But that's our choice!"

"I know." He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "And I'm grateful. I really am."

"Scott…" She shook her head. "It's like you said, if this was reversed, you'd do the same things I am."

He nodded faintly.

"Can we get some sleep now?" She pushed the blanket up to invite him in and settled back against her pillows.

Scott shifted to lay down beside her and tucked his arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Everything was silent for a moment, nothing but the distant snore of Shiloh to be heard. She could feel the warmth of his body soaking into her skin. Her heavy eyes fell closed and she let the intensity of the last day wash away, sweeping her under and into sleep.

…

Scott woke, hours later. He was confused for a moment, unsure where he was. But then he caught a distinct smell— wildflowers. Malia's shampoo. His confusion bled away and he relaxed against the pillow. A part of him wanted to turn over and fall right back asleep, blocking out reality and all the complications it brought with it. But then he became all too aware of something hindering that. At some point, Malia had rolled over, her head resting on his chest, an arm tucked around his waist, fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt.

Rubbing a hand over his tired face, he stared down at the top of her head, her hair mussed and tangled. He reached for her, fingers gently drawing her hair off her face. When they were kids, having innocent sleepovers at each other's houses, she was always a blanket hog. Malia either ran too hot or too cold, there was no in between.

Guilt climbed up through his gut, tangled in his ribs, and choked his heart. He could have hurt her today. More than just 'hurt,' he could've killed her. He wasn't lying when he said he didn't think he could forgive himself for something like that. He knew he couldn't. These new abilities or powers or senses, whatever they were, they felt like a curse. As much as he liked aspects of it— being able to breathe freely and play lacrosse being the two biggest upsides— the downsides seemed so much bigger than that. At no point in his life could Scott say he felt like a threat. But now, every day felt like walking a tightrope, and if he fell, it meant landing on a crowd of innocent people and crushing them in the process.

Putting Derek away was the right thing to do, he knew that. He just wasn't sure what to do now.

Was he strong enough? Could he keep from snapping and shifting on the field? There were so many people coming to the game, his mom and Allison included. Could he risk their lives?

Was it selfish to say 'yes'? To believe that maybe he really had it under control. If he just used what Malia had shown him… Malia, who he'd faced off with in the woods, and who'd talked him out of a red haze of bloodthirst.

He didn't deserve her.

Sighing, he closed his eyes. If he focused, he could hear her heart and nothing else. Everything else just drained away, leaving nothing but the steady thump-thump-thump in its wake.

The first time he met Malia, she glared at him. She was quiet and withdrawn and he thought she hated him. It took them a while to get used to each other, to accept that they were going to be friends, if only for Stiles' sake. But it wasn't just for Stiles. Slowly, Malia came out of her shell. She laughed and smiled and warmed up to him. Until one day, he almost couldn't remember the angry little girl that Stiles had befriended in a cemetery. In the years since, Malia still had her prickly side, but she was so much more than that. Strong and protective and endlessly loyal. He couldn't imagine his life without her and he didn't want to.

The buzz of his phone on the bedside table drew his attention and he reached for it. It was a calendar reminder that he had a game tonight, in a couple hours, in fact. And then he saw an old, unanswered text message from Allison— 'hey, are you okay? you weren't in last block…'

He stared at it a long beat. And then looked down, to the top of Malia's head, and felt a stab of guilt.

Flicking his phone scree off with his thumb, he put it aside and dragged his hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a few minutes, he reached down. The tips of his fingers slid along the length of hers, curved around his side, and he carefully pulled them up, one by one, until they were no longer tangled in the fabric of his shirt. Slowly, he brought her hand up, until it was flat against his chest. Then, carefully, he shuffled out from under her, resting her hand against the pillow and pulling the blanket up, tucking it in around her shoulders. He searched her floor for his hoodie, finding it near the foot of her bed. Pulling it on, he zipped it closed and tucked his phone in the pocket.

But he didn't leave; instead, he lingered beside her. Highlighted in a dim blue glow, safe and completely at peace. Taking a step closer, he leaned down. He stroked her hair back from her face, tucked it behind her ear, and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. Grateful that she was there, that she was okay, and that, despite everything that had been happening lately, she was still exactly who she'd always been. Strong, loyal, and stubborn.

Crossing her room, he bent to pat Shiloh's head, and then slipped through the door, closing it quietly behind him.

Leaving the Tate house, he started down the dirt road, not entirely sure where he was headed. Home. The school. He didn't know. But he felt conflicted and confused. About Derek, this whole werewolf thing, Allison, the game, everything. He just needed to clear his head, and he hoped when he did, he'd know what the right thing to do was.

…

When Malia woke, it was to an empty room. Or, mostly anyway. Shiloh was still with her, tail wagging eagerly for her attention. But Scott was long gone. His side of the bed was cool, giving her the idea it'd been a while. Checking the time on her phone, she realized she only had an hour until the game, and a handful of texts from a curious Stiles. Sighing, she pushed off the bed and made her way to Shiloh. "C'mon, Shi." Taking her outside to relieve herself, she texted Stiles while Shiloh used the lawn as her personal bathroom.

—'hey, have you seen or heard from scott?

Stiles wrote back immediately. —'noooo. i thought he was with you!?'

—'he was. but he was gone when i woke up.'

Stiles sent back a few wolf and skull emoticons, followed by— 'this is bad. it's bad, right? what if he wolfed out again?'

—'i think he's getting better at controlling the shift. or at least coming back from it… still, we should find him.' She chewed her lip. —'maybe he'll just meet us at the game?'

With Shiloh done, Malia brought her back into the house and walked back to her room.

Stiles texted back—'maybe. i'm hopping in the jeep now, see you soon.'

With that, Malia started getting ready. After a shower, she dug out a warm sweater and some comfortable jeans. It was already pitch black out and she was sure it would cool down dramatically by the time she made it to the school. She was just pulling on her boots when she heard a horn honk. Grabbing her phone, she rushed out the door, passing her dad on the porch as she went.

"Where are you going?"

"Lacrosse game!" she shouted over her shoulder. Not waiting for a reply, she jumped into Stiles' Jeep. "Hey."

"Hey." He tapped his hands against the steering wheel and pulled out of her driveway. "Are we gonna talk about Scott's freak out and how you even found him?"

Malia shrugged and pulled her seatbelt on. "I texted you when it happened."

"You texted me after it happened and basically just said 'found Scott, he's fine, explain later.' So… explain."

Malia sighed. "He shifted. Hair, teeth, nails, it was… weird."

"And he didn't attack you?"

She winced. "Not really…"

His brow furrowed. "What does 'not really' mean?"

"He didn't hurt me at all. I was trying to talk to him, but I wasn't sure he was really hearing me."

"Okay…" He looked from the road to her and back. "I'm gonna need more than that."

"It was just how he looked at me… That was the threat."

"How'd he look at you?"

Malia paused a moment, the words heavy on her tongue. "Like I was prey."

Stiles turned to stare at her a beat. "How'd you get away?"

"I didn't," she admitted. "And I'm not sure I could have. I just talked him down. I reminded him of you and Melissa and Allison. And eventually, he just… changed back."

Stiles brow furrowed. "That's it?"

"Hey, if it works…" She shrugged. "I say we go with it."

Nodding, he rubbed a hand over his head. "Okay. We can use this at the game. It'll be fine."

"I hope so."

…

After Stiles ran off to join the rest of the team in the locker room, Malia found a seat in the nearly empty stands, under the glow of the stadium lights. She dug her book out as a distraction, but it wasn't long before her mind wandered back to the woods and the aftermath of their faceoff. There were moments where Malia had to wonder if she wasn't the only who felt something more. If she wasn't misreading a look or a touch or a moment that just seemed so heavy with something that went unsaid. But then she reminded herself that Scott wanted Allison and any emotion-laden moments were probably being seen through her own crush-tinted glasses.

A busy bus of lacrosse players pulled up to the school; the opposing team unloaded and made their way out to the field, dressed in their pristine white jerseys. Soon, the parking lot was filled with family and friends, and the stands were quickly taken over. Malia left her bag in place next to her, saving a seat for Melissa, and summarily ignored everybody else. By the time the Cyclones made it onto the field, Melissa had just arrived. She waved at Scott, crossing the field with Stiles at his side.

Malia plucked her bag off the bench and waved Melissa over.

"Hey!" Melissa grinned down at Malia, taking a seat on the bench while she put her own bag by her feet.

"Hey."

"Excited?"

Malia mustered a smile. She was more worried than excited. Knowing that Scott was going out on the field only semi-confident in his ability to control his shift left her feeling nervous. "It'll be cool to see them actually play. Or Scott, at least. Is it weird to hope someone gets injured so they can tag Stiles in?"

Melissa snorted. "Probably not encouraged."

She shrugged. "Just a small injury then."

"Malia!" she heard.

Malia turned her head, searching the crowd, until she saw Allison, bag of popcorn in hand, walking just in front of her dad. She waved cheerfully and Malia raised her hand in return.

"Who's that?" Melissa wondered.

"Allison Argent…" Malia looked back at her. "New girl."

"You two are friends?"

"Kind of. Headed there, I think." She shrugged. "Scott really likes her."

Melissa paused and then turned curious, thoughtful eyes on her. With a gentle smile, she wrapped an arm around Malia's shoulders and hugged her. "Hey, what do you say to sharing a bag of popcorn? I haven't eaten since lunch and I'm starving."

Malia nodded. "Sure. You want me to grab it?"

"Are you sure? The game's about to start."

"It's fine. The line's short." Standing from her seat, she started in the direction of the concession, catching sight of Lydia threatening Scott on the field.

"Scott—" Lydia yanked him toward her, until they were just inches apart. "—I just want you to remember one thing for tonight."

"Uhh…" He stuttered. "Winning isn't everything…?"

Lydia scoffed and then dusted imaginary dirt from his shirt before resting her hand on his arm. "Nobody likes a loser." With that, she patted his chest and sashayed away."

Stiles walked away from the scene shaking his head and caught up to Malia.

She raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be listening to Coach Finstock give some rousing speech on having a good game?"

"Have you met Finstock?" Stiles snorted. "Anyway, I just wanted to talk to you. Turns out Scott ended up at Allison's. No idea why, I think he was just checking in with her, seeing if she was coming to the game. The important part is that her dad ran him over."

Malia paused. "What?"

"Yeah, hit him with his car and everything." Stiles nodded aggressively. "This is bad, right?"

"A hunter hit him with a car and now he's casually playing lacrosse… Yeah, it's a problem." Malia sighed and continued walking to the concession. "Is there no way to talk him out of this? I mean, this is a great excuse to get out of the game. He can just say he was a lot more sore than he thought he was…"

"I don't know, he's pretty set on playing. He says he wants to have a normal life and this is basically his way of proving he can have one." Stiles frowned. "Not much of a life if his new girlfriend's dad kills him, though."

Malia turned her attention to the vendor and ordered a bag of popcorn and a hot dog. While he put it together, she refocused on Stiles. "Just remind him that he can control it if he really tries and hopefully this night can end without any bloodshed." Taking her food, she started back for the stands. "And before I forget…" She grinned at him. "I'm cheering for you too, so try to get some field time, huh?"

Stiles smiled and rolled his eyes. "Fingers crossed." He veered away from her and toward the benches while she continued en route to Melissa.

Retaking her seat, she handed Melissa a hotdog, balanced the popcorn in her lap, and crossed her legs at the knee. "Good luck."

Melissa raised her hot dog 'cheers.'

Ahead, Stiles sat on the bench, nervously chewing on his thumb, while the rest of first line filled the field, with Jackson at the front, facing off against the opposing team's captain. As soon as the ball was tossed, the cheering went wild. Malia winced at the noise, but stayed focused on the field.

Scott ran along with the crowd, eagerly waving to the other players for them to toss the ball in his direction. In what seemed like a coordinated event, none of them did. She could see him slump in disappointment before continuing to chase the ball in whatever direction it went. When he spotted a chance to scoop up the stray ball, he hurried toward it only to have Jackson come out of nowhere to purposely shoulder check Scott enough that he was thrown to the ground. A groan of sympathy went through the stands.

Melissa stood, a hand clasped to her mouth in worry.

"He'll be okay." Malia nodded, her eyes stayed on Scott, still sprawled out in the grass while Jackson took the ball straight to the net, scoring their first point.

Melissa tossed the wrapper of her finished hot dog and shared a look with Malia as the rest of the stands cheered and Coach Finstock shouted, "That's it, Jackson! Get fired up! Fired up!"

"He's a dick," Malia said.

Melissa sent her a vaguely censuring look, but Malia merely shrugged.

"He is. Who hits their own team member?"

"Still… At least we're winning."

It started that way, at least. By halftime, the opposing team was sitting at 5 to the Cyclone's 3 and Scott, despite being open hadn't been given a single chance to catch a ball or sink it into the net. On the one hand, she was pissed on his behalf. On the other, at least it gave him fewer chances to get upset enough to shift.

Malia looked over to Stiles as the teams were making their way back onto the field, only to find him frowning back at the crowd. Following his gaze, she found Lydia and Allison holding up a sign that read: 'We luv u Jackson.' Her mouth twisted up. Gross. She looked to Stiles and they each rolled their eyes.

Malia frowned when she noticed some of the boys, Jackson included, huddled together. She noticed Danny's jersey—#6— and wondered what they were discussing, seeing as Scott seemed to be the only one not involved. Instead, he was on the outside looking in.

Finally, Jackson slapped his gloved hand against Danny's chest and the group split apart to retake their positions.

On the field, Scott glanced back at them, and Malia felt her whole body tense when she could've sworn she saw the glint of gold coming from his eyes. She told herself it was just the lights, that it was hard to even make out his eyes through his mask, but a tiny alarm was going off in the back of her head and it refused to be ignored.

Scott was bent over his stick and Malia watched as a ref and a few players around him seemed to look at him strangely, even backing away. He was breathing harder, she could tell because it was cold enough that every puff of air came out in a white cloud.

On the bench, Stiles was fidgeting, twisting around in his seat and rubbing a hand over his face.

The whistle blew and the game was on. Malia watched the ball get thrown high into the air, before Scott was running forward, leaping right over two players heads, and catching the ball. He raced down the field, deftly ducking and weaving around the opposing team.

Melissa hopped on spot, beaming brightly, and clasped her hands together hopefully.

Scott swung his stick and Malia held her breath.

Score.

Another point was added in their favor and Scott had officially impressed everyone.

Melissa threw her arms high above her head and cheered.

A laughing Malia joined her, hands cupped around her mouth as she hollered, "Whoo! Go, Scott!"

Below, Stiles stood from the bench, whooping. "Yes, yes!"

A few of Scott's teammates came up to congratulate him, while Coach Finstock started yelling, "McCall! Pass to McCall!"

A mixture of pride and worry built in Malia. She was happy he was finally getting the praise he deserved, but worried as hell that it was about to blow up in his face. "Stay calm," she muttered. "Just stay calm."

Malia watched as everyone returned to position. A whistle blew and the opposing team caught the ball, but #43 seemed to stop, staring in scared shock at Scott, before tossing the ball directly to him, and Scott took off down the field like a shot.

"Did… Did they just give us the ball?" Melissa wondered, looking to Malia in confusion.

Malia shrugged. "Couldn't take the pressure, I guess…"

Scott scored a second goal, officially tying the game. While everyone else was cheering, Malia left her seat and moved closer to the field, her heart hammering. She looked down the way to Stiles, who shook his head uncertainly. Coach Finstock was arguing with the refs about whether it counted, since it had gone straight through the lacing of the goalie's stick, suggesting it had technically been caught.

"What? The ball's in the net. That's the goal of the game, isn't it? To get the ball in the net!"

Malia kept her attention on Scott, who seemed disoriented or distracted. She remembered what he'd been like in the woods, the unparalleled focus he'd placed on her. Was that what was happening here? His attention instead traded to the game and the ball?

The goal was ruled good and everyone retook their positions.

Malia crossed her arms, adrenaline pumping, ready to run ahead and intervene. But what could she do if that happened? Get in between a raging werewolf and whichever player he went after?

A whistle blew and Scott was moving. He caught the ball but stalled halfway down one end of the field, half bent over, and seemingly confused. The clock was counting down the final minute of the game. The opposing team was circling. And a nervous Stiles had stood, making his way down the line toward her, arms swinging wildly.

"What do we do?" she asked, staring at him searchingly.

"I don't know. Maybe he'll pull out of it."

She gritted her teeth and turned back to the field. If his senses were heightened, even more now than usual, then maybe he could hear her… "Focus," she said. "Stiles and Star Wars… your mom and burned cookies… Allison and the eyelash… Just breathe and focus."

Scott shook his head and then looked around at the players that were working up their nerve to make a move. Finally, they rushed him, and Scott swung his stick. The goalie attempted to catch it, but missed.

6-5 for the Cyclones.

The final whistle screamed and the stands followed, cheering madly.

Malia let out a relieved breath and turned to Stiles with a grin. "He did it!"

"We did it! We won!" Stiles leapt in the air, arms raised above his head. "Yes! Ye-e-es!"

Relieved, Malia felt a swooping sensation that made her knees shake. It was okay. He'd played, they won, and nobody got hurt. She turned toward Melissa to celebrate, sharing a hug.

The stands emptied out around them as people hurried to find their friends and family, to either comfort or congratulate. For a while, the field was a mess of bodies, making it hard to find anyone in particular.

Together, Malia and Melissa searched for Scott, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Where'd he go?" Melissa wondered.

"Uh… He's probably overwhelmed." She looked back at Stiles, who was talking to his dad by the benches. "I bet he ran back to the locker rooms, couldn't handle the spotlight. I'll go find him."

"Tell him to meet me by my car. I'll give him a ride home." She squeezed Malia's shoulder. "This was fun. Who knows, if he keeps this up, we might have a standing lacrosse game."

"Yeah, I hope so…"

As Melissa started toward the parking lot, Malia waved at Stiles. He left his dad and hurried toward her. "You'll never believe what I just found out!"

"After! I think Scott's having a freak out in the locker room. Come on…"

They raced toward the school. Since most of the team was still on the field, she was hopeful that Scott wasn't taking any leftover werewolf rage out on some unsuspecting janitor or something. She should've checked on him immediately. He was obviously having trouble handling everything. Maybe it was just too soon. After a late night and everything that had happened, it made sense that he was stressed out. She should've discouraged him from playing. Convinced him to sit it out…

They hurried down the hallway, shoes squeaking on the buffed floor, and pushed into the locker room. The lights were out, giving the room an eerie blue glow. The last time she'd been there, Scott was about to make Stiles into a very boney meal. It felt different this time. The tension of before was lost and she quickly realized why.

As they stumbled to the back, they found Scott and Allison wrapped in an embrace, sharing their first kiss in an empty shower.

Malia's heart tripped and climbed up into her throat, swollen and wrapped in barbed wire.

There was something sweet and tentative about how Scott's hand hovered before Allison's cheek, mouth ghosting over hers, slow and unsure, before gathering up his courage. A tender gentleness, as if she was spun glass and he had to be that much more careful.

A cold wave ran through Malia. She backed away, turning her gaze from the sight. It shouldn't hurt. Hadn't she realized that twice over by now? She had no right to feel hurt. Disappointment, maybe. But this felt different. A pins and needles sensation climbed the backs of her arms and she bit the inside of her cheek.

As Stiles took another peek, she grabbed at the back of his jersey and yanked him back.

"What? I was just…" He trailed off and then focused on her. Wincing, he shook his head. "Are you—?"

She nodded quickly, hoping to cut him off, and then she was backing up, until she reached the door. "Tell him about his mom. I have to go."

"Mal…"

But, she was already moving, trying to get as far away as possible. It occurred to her that, technically, Stiles was her ride home, but Malia needed a moment. So, she kept going, breaking out into a run part way down the hall. She wasn't sure what she was running from. Reality? Because that's what she was leaving behind. The all too real reminder that her feelings were so far from being returned. Not for the first time, she felt stupid. Every time she got her hopes up, every time she second guessed a moment between them, it was thrown back in her face. And she was so tired of it.

Malia slowed down once she was out of the school, regret and humiliation swamping her. She just wanted to go home, curl up in bed with Shiloh, and seriously forget the last two weeks.

"Malia!"

Her feet slowed and she turned to see Danny jogging in her direction. "Hey. Good game tonight. Congratulations."

"Yeah, thanks." He grinned. "Listen, I know you were still iffy on the party, but I thought I'd see if you wanted to come. It doesn't start 'til later, but I can give you a ride home to get changed."

She raised an eyebrow. "What, my oversized sweater isn't proper party wear?"

He snorted. "I think you already know the answer to that."

Truthfully, the last thing Malia wanted to do was go to a party. She was hardly in the mood to play nice. But then, when was she ever? And this could be a new start, right? Wasn't she just telling Melissa that she wanted to start moving on her ability to socialize with others?

As if to add to her resolve, Allison walked out of the school, blushing and beaming. Back in the locker room, Malia was sure Scott mirrored her. Floating on cloud nine at this new development. Turning back to Danny, Malia nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Cool." He knocked a fist against her shoulder gently. "You're gonna be okay. You know that, right?"

She attempted a smile. "Sure."

"Come on. My car's this way."

Malia followed him across the parking lot, nodding along vaguely to something he was saying about the game.

"I'm gonna need you to give me directions to your place." Danny unhooked his bag from across his shoulder and put it in the trunk, closing it with a snap. "Ready?"

"Yeah. Just… Distracted."

"I get it." He rested his arms atop the roof of his car. "I've had my fair share of unrequited crushes."

Malia frowned. "We're not talking about Jackson, are we? Because you can do way better."

Danny snorted. "No. Contrary to what he thinks, he's not my type."

"Good."

He half-smiled. "He's not actually terrible once you get a chance to know him."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I'll take your word for it."

"Okay, he's not always terrible. He's just… I don't know. Complicated. Most people are. Not everything is how it looks and not everyone is how they seem."

Malia let out of a huff of a laugh. "That we can agree on."

He looked past her then, toward the school. "You're sure you're up for tonight? I know I keep telling you to get out and socialize, but if you're not ready…"

She turned her head and saw Scott and Stiles leaving the school, looking intense as they discussed something. A part of her wanted to bury it— the riot of feelings that had been nothing but a nuisance. She wanted to cross the distance and congratulate Scott on winning the game and getting the girl. But another part, a slightly jagged and entirely self-preserving part, told her that it was now or never. She had to sever that tie, before it irrevocably ruined a friendship she couldn't afford to lose.

Scott looked up and caught her eye across the distance. His brow furrowed, likely in curiosity over her and Danny. As much as she and Danny had grown closer through tutoring, this had never been her place. She might not care for the hierarchy or where she placed on it, but she was aware of it, and this— her, being personally invited by Danny— was a few rungs above where she landed on the ladder. But, something had to change.

"I'm sure." She looked away from Scott and pulled the passenger door open. Taking a seat inside the cushy car, she buckled her seat belt and took a deep breath. "You know, I've never played beer pong but I have a feeling I'm going to be awesome at it."

Danny shook his head, grinning. "Let's find out."

tbc

author's note: i should never write anything sports related; i feel like the lacrosse game seemed really awkward, but no matter how much i work on it, it doesn't seem to get better.

anyway, i hope the scalia scenes helped make up for it... at least until that end bit. whoops!

things to look forward to next chapter: paaaarty; malia meets someone... new...; chemosignals; erica; and a nightmare.

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