Authors note:
Yo! And we're back with another chapter. I quite enjoy Kira's awkwardness, so I'm trying to make sure it is represented well in the story. But I also want to give her more story. She deserves more.
Enjoy!
When her last class ended, Maeve slowly trudged to her locker. She'd somehow forgotten how draining an average school day could be, especially when she had to deal with everyone's emotions flitting through her.
It was hard to pay attention in classes, and when she wanted to sit near Scott and Allison so she at least knew someone, their overwhelming fear and anxiety made Maeve feel scared and anxious as well.
And, if Stiles was around, she tried to sit behind him. While there were the same feelings of fear and anxiety as the previous two from his friend group, she could handle them if it was him. He seemed to completely drown out everyone else more than anything else.
She realized it was probably super weird, but when he was near, she was constantly trying to get away with secretly touching him. It was mostly just having her hands at the very front of her desk where they would just barely graze his back when he sat in front of her. If they were walking to and from classes, she'd walk right beside him, brushing his arm or hand occasionally.
Lunch was nice all in all.
Luckily, she had Kira to eat lunch with, because when she looked around the cafeteria for Lydia or Stiles, she couldn't find either of them. She couldn't even find the others she had met that day: Scott and Allison.
Her last school's lunches were iffy at best, and it didn't help that she had an aversion to school spaghetti. Something about the meat and the greasiness and the over-all ick of it just didn't sit right with her.
It was chicken tenders that day, which she could totally handle. So, she and Kira sat together and talked about anything and everything. Kira was so nice, and Maeve would rather focus on the awkward yet simple emotions of one person than the many different emotions of the teenagers around her.
She opened her locker, grabbing what she needed for homework and shoving it in her bag, trying not to crinkle any of the papers. When she closed the door, she yelped loudly.
Stiles was standing there, lost in his own world on his phone. He had the cute furrow in his brow again, like he was trying to figure something out.
"Stiles!" she yelled indignantly.
He spazzed, almost throwing his phone across the hallway when his arms jerked around in awkward movements. He looked around and locked eyes with her, eyebrows raised and mouth hanging open in shock. "Wha – oh- hey! Why'd you yell?"
"You scared the crap out of me, ya doofus," she threw a hand in the air in response. She gave him a look that she reserved for idiots. "You do it again, and dishonor on your whole family-"
"What, dishonor-"
"Dishonor on your COW!" she shoved past him, heading outside to his jeep.
"I'm missing something, aren't I," he followed behind her. She was surprisingly quick, and he was having trouble keeping up. "Because you're obviously referencing something that I know nothing about."
"Yes, Mulan, you imbecile," she replied. She stopped at the door, waiting for him to unlock his vehicle.
He sidled up beside her, unlocking the door and opening it for her. He quickly held out his hand for her to grab.
"You don't have to help me each time; I'm not incapable of climbing into the jeep myself," she looked at his hand.
"Yeah, but a gentleman always helps the lady into the vehicle," he replied with a small smile. She tried her best not to immediately return his smile, but her lips betrayed her as they twitched up slightly at the edges.
She quickly cleared her throat and threw her bag on the floorboard, softly resting her hand in his.
"You're forgiven for not knowing Mulan," she started, as he helped her into the jeep, making sure she didn't hit her head on the doorframe. She crossed her arms over chest, staring straight ahead to the windshield. "But I can't easily forgive you for scaring the crap out of me. If I wanted to be scared, I'd watch a horror movie, which I do often and will most likely do tonight, but that is beside the point-"
When she looked over to him, she noticed him leaning towards her slightly with one arm on the door handle and the other hand against the door frame. He was smiling at her slightly, listening to her rant.
She could feel the blush rising to her cheeks as she quickly looked away, clearing her throat again.
"Sorry for scaring you. It wasn't my intention," he said simply. She could hear the laughter he was holding in as he spoke those words, and he didn't sound sorry in the least. He closed the door and walked around the jeep to jump in the driver's seat.
"Yeah, you aren't sorry, are you?" she sighed, dropping her arms and spinning in her seat to face him.
"Nah," he answered with a smile. "Now I have ammunition for future endeavors." He pulled out of the parking lot, heading downtown to drop her off at the book shop.
"I swear, Stilinski. You scare me again, I will punch you in the throat on reflex," she chuckled as he froze.
"The throat? Why so specific?"
"You're taller than me, so your throat is fair game," she replied with a wicked smile.
"Wha-" his mouth dropped open in disbelief, eyes switching between her and the road. "You're violent, aren't you?"
"Absolutely," she giggled, facing towards the front again. "It's a wonder I haven't hit you already."
"Yes, you have!" he said loudly, throwing a hand in the air.
She furrowed her brows, but then instantly remembered how she mom-smacked his hand that morning.
"Oh yeah," she laughed. "Well, at least it was only once. I almost smacked you with my bag when you scared me earlier. My first instinct will probably always be fight instead of flight." She shrugged.
"Yeah, I'm beginning to get that."
He parked in front of the bookstore, but before he could get out and make it around the jeep, she had already let herself out.
They met at the front of his jeep, him almost running into her in his hurry to help her out.
"Thanks for dropping me off, Stiles," she smiled.
"Of course, any time," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and shrugging his shoulders like it was no big deal. "If you want, I could be your official ride to and from school."
The suggestion made her heart flutter, her eyes widening to epic proportions.
"Oh! Um, yeah, if it isn't too much trouble," she clasped her hands in front of her as a gust of wind flew by. "I plan to talk to mom about an alternative, but until I can get that settled, it would be nice to not have to walk."
"Yeah, totally, that sounds like a great idea."
There was an awkward pause, where they did nothing but smile and stare at each other. Well, until there was a loud knocking on the window to the store.
She jumped and turned to see her mom, waving her hand to tell her to hurry and come in. The awkwardness of everything caused Maeve to chuckle.
"Um, did you want to come in and say hi, or.."
"Nah, I've got to run and grab something before going to see my dad at the station."
She nodded in response, heading into the store.
"I'll see you in the morning, May- veh," he said, causing her heart to flutter. She gave him a smile and wave and that was that.
She sat her things under the counter and went in search of her mother.
"Mom?"
"Back here, hon."
Maeve followed the sound of her voice, finding her shelving a few things under the Norse Mythology section.
"Has it been busy today?" Maeve crossed her arms in front of her, leaning against the opposite shelf.
"Surprisingly yes. I know today was the opening day and I should expect it to be busy, but with this small town, I wasn't expecting it to be that busy." Her mother turned to her, copying her stance, the cart of books needing to be reshelved beside her.
"There were all sorts of people coming in today. Even a few students. I thought they'd all be in school, but I guess people have free periods. At least that's what I was told," her mom continued with a sigh, eyebrows raised. "And don't think I didn't see who brought you here."
Maeve groaned, knowing where her mother's line of thinking was going.
"Considering my lack of transport, he offered," Maeve rolled her eyes. She took a few books off of the cart and began placing them in their right spot. "Speaking of," she started.
"Yes, I know, I need to get you mode of transportation." They were both putting away books now, waiting for the next customer to show.
"It's not like Chicago where there was a plethora of public transportation," Maeve heaved an exaggerated sigh.
"Yes, darling, I know," her mother's English accent prominent with the term of endearment.
"I don't mind something run down as long as there is A/C," Maeve continued.
"Is that what you want? Something vintage? I thought you may want something new that you could blast your music out of," her mom chuckled, shelving the book in her hand and picking another one.
"I mean, I could always soup up whatever I get," Maeve mumbled, grabbing a few more books and moving to the next aisle, which housed Native American folklore.
"Alright, we'll go look this weekend," her mother conceded. "I'll talk with some places this week, but I'll keep an eye open for something online as well. Do you have anything in mind?"
"I don't know. What was it that you drove when you were my age?" Maeve was curious. She remembered it kind of looked like a truck, and wouldn't it be kind of funny if a girl like Maeve had to climb in and out of a big, old truck.
"Oh, that old thing," her mom smiled. "You know, I think it's in an old impound lot around here actually."
"Wait, really?" Maeve whipped around, quickly making her way to the previous aisle, and finding her mom. Evelyn was still in the Norse mythology section, a book in her hand and seemingly lost in the titles on the bindings.
"Yeah, when I had you, I realized that I needed something that I could drive my child around in," she laughed, setting the book back on the cart and facing Maeve. "I'll talk with the Sheriff and see if it's still around. I had asked him to keep it safe, just in case."
"Oh, I'd love that! And we could get it fixed up, I'll use my own money to vamp it up-"
"Darling, you know money isn't an issue, plus I thought you'd want it fixed quickly and properly."
"Okay, well, can I at least pay you back monthly or something?" Maeve knew that money was never an issue for her family. Her dad had come from a very wealthy family, apparently, and left them with enough wealth to live 100 lives over – lavishly.
She didn't want to become dependent on it, though.
Her mother pursed her lips in contemplation, pushing the cart to the next aisle.
"You can pay for the insurance," her mother conceded, resuming her task
Just then, the bell on the door rang, announcing a new customer. Maeve made her way to the front to greet them.
"You know, the last time we brought one of these to her grave, it was stolen the same day," Stiles said, walking into his father's office with a large bouquet of flowers.
He set it down carefully on the sheriff's desk, making sure. "A hundred bucks, down the drain," he continued, placing his hands on his hips.
Stiles looked up to a missing desk chair and furrowed his brow in confusion. Usually, when the deputies say that the Sheriff is in his office, he's usually sitting at his desk, working. Stiles leaned a little closer at the sound of shuffling and noticed his father on the ground behind the desk surrounded by case files.
"Hey, dad?" his dad looked up quickly. "Hi, what are you- what are you doing down there?"
He father took a deep breath, "working." He leaned back down, continuing whatever it was he was doing. Stiles, being the ever-curious son that he is, walked slowly around the desk, coming to stand beside the crouched figure of his dad.
"And hey, if somebody wants the flowers that badly, they can have them. It's the gesture," his dad continued, shuffling files around on the floor.
Stiles took in the sheer number of cases strewn about behind the desk, growing more concerned by the second.
"Hey, dad-" he started, gesturing a hand around. "What is all this?" He raised his eyebrows for emphasis.
"I've been looking over some old cases from, uh-" he waved a hand around. "-a more illuminated perspective, if you know what I mean." The smile the sheriff gave his son was a bit sheepish, as if he was slightly embarrassed at having to look through his old cases.
"Strange sighting of bipedal lizard man sprinting across freeway." Stiles read aloud from a case in front of him.
His father patted a pile in front of him," Kanima pile."
Scratching his head, Stiles plopped the case into the aforementioned pile. "Uh, dad, you're not going through all your old cases seeing if any of them had something to do with the supernatural, are you?"
Stiles was pretty sure he already knew the answer, but wanted to know if it sounded as crazy to his dad as it did to him.
"I admit, the recent opening of my eyes to the greater mysteries of the universe has got me reassessing," his father answered. "There's at least a hundred cases here where I look at the details and ask myself, 'If I knew then what I know now-"
"Right, but are you sure you wanna go down that path?" Stiles interjected, worried for his dad.
"Do I have a choice?" his father made direct eye contact with him. Stiles noticed how serious his dad was and realized that there was guilt associated with all of his cases.
While Stiles was happy that his dad finally had the answers to deal with what was going on around here, he also felt guilty about keeping it from him for so long.
"There are two cases in particular that I can't get out of my head," his dad kept going, leaning down and picking up two case files.
"Eight years ago, I was elected Sheriff of County," he handed Stiles a file that was opened to show the picture of a young girl. "My second official duty as Sheriff was to tell a man that not only had his wife and two kids died in a car accident, but, as best we could tell, the body of his 9-year-old daughter had been dragged from the wreck by coyotes."
Stiles looked at the picture, a horrible image popping into his head. "You mean, dragged and eaten?" He shook his head slightly to erase the image that he conjured.
Stiles looked back up at his dad when he answered him. "We didn't find the car until three days after the crash." Stiles recognized the look on his face. His dad was reliving that moment, discovering the crime scene all over again. "They had driven off the road into a pretty deep ravine," the sheriff paused, gathering his thoughts. "The two bodies that were still in the car were covered in bites and slashes."
"So, you're thinking bites and claw marks… probably a werewolf attack?" Stiles asked.
"Maybe," his dad answered with a nod.
"But coyotes," Stiles continued his thought process. "They scavenge, right? So, couldn't they have just left the bites and slashes-"
"Absolutely," his dad interjected, looking at the file in his son's hands. "But guess what night the accident occurred on?" He tapped on the file in Stiles' hands, pointing to the date. Stiles looked down to see what he meant.
Just as he guessed, "the night of a full moon." Stiles honestly wasn't all that surprised; very little surprised him anymore when it came to the supernatural.
"Yeah," his dad agreed. Stiles closed the file in his hands, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it.
"What about the other case?" Stiles asked, remembering his father had said two cases that he couldn't get out of his head.
"That would be the Green case," his dad sighed, grabbing another file off of his desk. "My first official duty as Sheriff was to inform a woman that her husband had been found dead in the woods after being missing for 3 days, but something has just never sat right about it with me about it all. And with the family moving back into town recently-"
"Are you talking about our neighbors?" Stile interjected as his father passed him the new case file.
"Yeah. Look at the picture of the dad and look at the body we found. What do you see?"
Stiles opened the folder and looked at the first picture, taking in the details.
He took in the details of the background first. It seemed like a backyard get together, with different families talking with each other. He moved his eyes to the family who was the center of the photo.
He could see little Maeve, her hair somehow a brighter red than she had now as it was just barely pulled back in a braid with a green bow at the end, a ton of little curls surrounding her face like they couldn't be bothered to be tamed by something as silly as a braid. It made Stiles wonder if she still had those cute curls or if she styled it every day to hide them. She was wearing a matching green sundress to complete her outfit and her eyes were squinted in a cheesy smile that was all teeth as she stood between her parents, holding each of their free hands.
He looked to her mom, who looked so much younger in this picture. Her long, dark hair loose in wild curls, an obvious sign that Maeve got hers from her mom. She was wearing a black dress, something that amplified the paleness of her skin. She was facing her husband, laughing at something, whether it was something her husband said or someone else, Stiles wish the picture could tell him. Her hand that wasn't in Maeve's was around his waist, hugging him to her, as she looked up at him.
Stiles finally looked at the man in question. He had piercing blue eyes, almost unnatural with the way they seemed to glow. Not like a werewolf's eyes, but definitely something else. His blond hair was long, to his waist and tied up halfway. It was so blond, it looked completely fake, and yet also couldn't have been as his roots definitely matched. The only thing that threw off the hair color was the dark brown of the eyebrows. He had this ethereal look to him, like Maeve did in his dreams. The man's smile was wide, and Stiles noticed how straight and white his teeth were. Despite the unnaturalness of his blinding teeth, his smile was genuine. He had his arm around his wife's shoulder and his free hand grasping Maeve's other tiny one tightly.
It was the ultimate picture of a happy family.
Stiles looked to the crime scene photos, comparing them with each other.
The body found at the scene didn't really look like the man from the other picture. The hair was a yellow blonde, like it had been bleached from a dark color, the eyebrows also had been bleached. The face shape was off, and there was a freckle below his left eye that wasn't there in the other photo. They were similar, but-
"It's a different body." Stiles finished his thought, looking at his dad in confusion.
"Yeah, but blood tests matched, dental matched, and Evelyn even identified the body," his dad exclaimed, clearly frustrated. "And look at where the body was found," his dad moved the picture Stiles was looking at to the next one.
The body was placed in a ring of mushrooms, which was definitely odd, even for Beacon Hills.
Stiles studied the picture, trying to see if it was ritualistic in nature. Maybe someone had been trying to revive the Nemeton before the Darach ever came along, but all the research Stiles had done never mentioned anything about a ring of mushrooms. The body wasn't placed in any strategic position; it looked as thought the body had crumpled in on itself.
"Did you guys find a cause of death?" Stiles asked, studying the weird ring around the body a little closer. Maybe it was specific to the type of mushroom, but they all looked different. He looked up, when his dad answered him.
"Evelyn refused an autopsy."
"What? Why? Wouldn't she be curious as to how her husband died, in the middle of the woods, surrounded by a ring of shrooms?" Stiles flailed his arms about, almost flinging the file out of his hands. He quickly grasped the folder before it could actually fly across the room.
"She didn't want his body to be desecrated, or something about some kind of something, I don't know. She's always been a bit odd, claiming she was a psychic or seer, but I always thought that was a side-business to the shop. Another way to gain revenue. I didn't realize she actually believed in some of it until that happened," his dad took the file back, setting it carefully on the desk, out of reach of his spastic son.
He wiped his hand down his face with a heavy sigh, Stiles noticing his age shine through.
"Maybe the psychic thing is real," the sheriff muttered, placing his hands on his hips, looking at the mess surrounding him. "Are psychics real?" His dad asked seriously, looking to his son for answers. "I mean, isn't Lydia some kind of psychic?"
"I think the term is banshee," Stiles squinted his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked around at the boxes, too, noticing the number of boxes surrounding them. They couldn't all be supernatural related, could they?
"Hey, dad, where are all these going?" He had just noticed that a couple of them had transfer labels on them.
"Yeah, we, uh…" his dad started, scratching his chin. "We probably need to talk about that."
"Man, you weren't kidding," Maeve groaned as she threw her things on the entryway floor. She very slowly took off her shoes, not having the energy to take them off at a normal speed. "It was so busy."
"I told you," her mom chuckled, heading to the kitchen to heat up some leftovers. "Were you able to do any homework?"
"Yeah, a little." She had successfully gotten out of the boots, moving them to the shoe rack by the door and sliding on her slippers.
She made her way to the refrigerator, grabbing two cans of soda and sitting them on the island counter. Her mom handed her the chicken casserole she microwaved before they both dug in, eating in silence.
Maeve quickly finished eating, rinsing her bowl out and setting it in the dishwasher. "I'm gonna grab a shower and try to finish my homework."
"Darling, it's already ten. You should probably get some rest," her mom argued. Maeve waved her hand around in disagreement, trudging up the stairs.
After her shower, she felt like a new woman, throwing on her usual t-shirt for a nightgown. She had just turned on background music so she could finish her homework quickly when she heard the ding of her phone.
She dug around in her bag, and when she found it, she realized that it was almost dead. She quickly put it to charge before checking her messages.
Unknown:
Hey! It's Stiles :). Got ur number from Lydia. Just wanted u to have mine in case u needed it for any reason or whatever.
Maeve:
I hope you spelled my name right in your contacts
Stiles(: :
Nah, it's just Mead. Thought it suited u better
Maeve:
Thanks, I've always wanted to be medieval alcohol (:
Stiles(: :
I live to serve, milady.
Anyway, I'll see u in the am. Pick u up 7:30?
Maeve:
Yeah, you like muffins?
Stiles(: :
…yes?
Maeve:
Any allergies?
Stiles(: :
…no?
Maeve:
Solid, I'll bring you a muffin for brekkie.
Stiles(: :
I thought u were Irish, not Australian…
Maeve:
Shut up, you neanderthal and accept my token of friendship
Stiles(: :
How can we be friends if ur gonna call me a neanderthal?
Maeve:
Muffins or no muffins – your losing brownie points as we speak
Stiles(: :
Ok, ok, I accept ur muffins and friendship, even if im offended
Maeve:
I'm only mean to the people I like. Take it or leave it
Stiles(: :
Geez, ok. I guess I'll suffer a little abuse on the behalf of our friendship
Maeve:
What a smart boy (: I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight
Stiles(: :
Night Mead ;)
She smiled, a giddy feeling bubbling in her stomach. She left her phone to charge on her nightstand, putting her headphones in and speeding through her homework.
She did her nightly skin care routine and went to sleep.
Authors note:
Well, that was fun! I know if you read my review you have some idea on what Maeve is, but I really hope you guys are still excited about the process of her unveiling!
Also, I'm not ready to disclose who my inspiration for her dad is until I've put what she is out in the open, as his inspiration is a dead giveaway.