02

For ten, fifteen, twenty minutes after he woke up, Scott didn't speak, didn't move, didn't even open his eyes. He just lied there, quiet and still, surrounded by softness, by warmth, by light, by everything that had seemed so far away, so impossible not so long ago.

The memories of the night before, of all the chaos and pain, and all the uncertainty about what was to come were knocking, trying to break through, drag him back down, but he pushed the darkness back. He refused to let it touch him here, hurt him, where the sun was shining so bright he could see it with his eyes closed, streaming through the window, lighting up his room. Where he was so warm, wrapped up in his blankets, all his aches and pains healed, lost to time. Where he wasn't alone, could feel Malia in bed with him, her breathing soft and even, still there, like she had been through it all.

He wasn't sure when during the night their positions had shifted, remembered falling asleep with her next to him, using him as a pillow. Waking up to find her cuddled up against his back, her knees tucked behind his, her arm looped protectively over him had come as a bit of a surprise. A surprise, but far from a bad one. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck, her fingers brushing his arm, her feet tangled with his. She was all around him, wrapped around him like a blanket, shielding him, and he'd never felt safer.

With everything going on, the uncertainty, the danger he knew was lurking nearby, safety was a concept that didn't really exist. It couldn't. But he felt it all the same, there with her, in his room, his bed, sequestered away from the rest of the world.

The light, the sleep, they were all welcome things, things that helped him convince himself it was a new day and things weren't actually as dark as they'd seemed. But he was sure the main reason he felt better was her, the main reason it all hadn't come crashing back down on him yet. Her presence, her support, pushing it all away. The same silent support she'd offered at every turn, that had allowed him to keep it together as long as he had last night.

Unfortunately, the rest of the world was still out there, and he could only ignore it for so long. If something truly terrible had happened while he was sleeping, somebody would have called and told him, so he wasn't overly worried about that. But that didn't mean there hadn't been any developments while he was out, and it didn't mean he could afford to take too much time away from everything, not with how quickly things could change. There was too much going on, too much to do to lie there all day, no matter how badly he wanted to.

With a heavy sigh and silent prayer for a better day, he reluctantly opened his eyes. He had to blink a few times to clear his vision, but once he could see, he looked at his alarm clock. A few more blinks followed when he realised what time it was.

Definitely time to get up.

Despite his intentions, his plans to get out of bed hit an immediate snag. The second he started to move, hoping to slip out without disturbing Malia, she tightened the arm she had around him, holding him in place. He couldn't help but smile as she mumbled something unintelligible and wormed even closer, pressed so tight to him now he could feel her heart beating in her chest. She didn't want to let him go, and if he was being honest, he didn't really want to leave.

Instead of trying to get away, he turned to face her instead, rolling over slowly, carefully to avoid waking her. She shifted a little as the bed moved under them, but when he stilled, she quickly settled back down.

Scott wasn't sure how much time passed as he lied there, silently studying her sleeping face. Almost without thought, he reached out, gently tucked her hair behind her ear. She looked so peaceful, so at ease, such a welcome departure from last night. It was something he never had a chance to do, really look at her like this, even though there were times he would have liked nothing more. Because he couldn't, not without having to explain why, and he wasn't sure he was ready for that. The timing always felt just a little off, never quite right to actually tell her how he felt about her. How much she'd come to mean to him. How often the thought of trying for something more than friendship had been crossing his mind.

Things had been building between them for awhile, their connection deepening as they spent more time together, laughed together, fought together. He'd always been aware of how things were changing, knew what was happening, but every time he ever considered actually doing something about it, bringing it up, he hesitated. Not because of any doubts, any fears. There was none of that, not with her.

The right time would come. He just wasn't sure when.

Spending the night together hadn't exactly cleared anything up for him. He couldn't read her mind, couldn't know if it meant as much to her as it did to him, and he wasn't about to make any assumptions. Not now. She'd been there for him when he needed her, was still with him. That was the only thing that mattered.

When he reached for her again, unable to stop himself, she finally stirred, shifting slightly as his fingertips brushed her temple. Slowly, her eyes cracked open, met his, and for a minute neither of them said a word. If he had any worries about her pulling away, putting distance between them when she realised how close they were, they vanished immediately. She didn't move an inch, despite being so close their noses were almost touching, despite his fingers lingering near her cheek. They just looked at each other, letting the silence stretch on, neither wanting to disrupt the sense of intimacy that existed between them in that moment.

"Good morning," he finally said, worried if things went on any longer, he'd end up doing something rash. Like throwing caution to the wind and kissing her.

"Morning." Her smile was soft, open. "You feeling better?"

Pushing back the initial urge to just show her all his injuries had healed, he took a second to consider his answer. He didn't need to be a mind-reader to know she wasn't asking about how he was physically. She'd seen him beaten and hurt much worse before, had been through the same kind of thing herself more than enough to know how quickly that type of wound healed up. It was the other, the mental, the emotional she was less familiar with, because he'd tried so hard not to show it before. That had always been his burden to bear alone.

She'd witnessed it last night, seen him at his lowest, his most vulnerable, and hadn't flinched. She hadn't pushed, hadn't pressed, hadn't questioned, just stayed with him and let him get through it. But it didn't mean she wasn't worried about him, about where his head was at now.

"Yeah," he said quietly, finally dropping his hand onto the bed between them. "I'm better. I'm…" He trailed off, smiled reassuringly at her. "Last night was bad, but you were right, what you said. It's Gerard's fault, not mine. Took some time for logic to beat out feelings, but I'm there now, I swear." His hand found hers, fingers intertwining. "We took a big hit, but we all made it. Nobody's dead. I'm okay. And I'll feel even better once I talk to everybody, make sure nothing else happened while we were sleeping."

Everybody had gathered together at the clinic after the fight, looking for safety in numbers. Even his mom had shown up, once she was finished her shift at the hospital. She and Deaton made sure the injured were okay while the rest of them tried to figure out what Gerard might be up to. Without any information to go off of, that hadn't gone anywhere but in circles, and eventually, Malia had convinced him to leave, to go home and get some rest while he could. It hadn't been easy to walk away, but he'd done it, saw the wisdom in her advice, knew between Argent, Theo, and a rapidly-recovering Parrish, his friends weren't unprotected. But while he was glad now that he had, the concern still lingered.

"Nothing happened. They're fine."

"Yeah?" She sounded certain, too certain to just be trying to put his mind at ease. "You sure?"

"Positive." At his questioning look, she shrugged. "I've already been up this morning. I called Lydia and texted with your mom a bit. They both said there were no problems last night. Liam and Corey were both awake and healing last time they talked."

The relief he felt then was intense. It wasn't that he'd doubted they'd recover. He knew they were both strong, could come back from just about anything. But seeing them both so torn up, so hurt, hadn't been easy. It was a scene that was going to stick with him for a long time. Knowing they'd both been up, been conscious made things just a little easier for now.

It also raised some other questions.

"Wait. You got up already?" He'd been under the assumption she'd been in bed all night.

"Yeah. A couple hours ago. I needed to think, so I took a walk. Not far," she quickly added, when his brow furrowed with worry. "Just around the house. And I figured you'd want to know what happened after we left the clinic."

"Oh. Right. I…" He trailed off, licked his lips, his mind seizing on one inescapable fact and refusing to let go. "You came back."

Her eyes narrowed. "Huh?"

"You came back," he repeated, studying her searchingly. "You came back to bed. With me."

"Yeah, I did. I, um…" She paused, a hint of a smile touching her lips even as she shrugged, the slightest movement of her shoulders. "I just—y'know, after everything that happened… I didn't want you to wake up alone."

Her admission came out quiet, barely above a whisper, but she may as well have shouted it for all the impact it had on him. He felt a surge of warmth in his chest, and before he could even think about it, he brought his hand up, gently cupped her cheek. Her gaze never wavered from his, as he swallowed around the lump in his throat, searching for what to say, the right words to let her know exactly how he felt in that moment.

Unfortunately, the words wouldn't come. He wasn't even sure there were words to really paint the picture he wanted to paint, to get his point across. He wanted to show his gratitude, wanted to tell her how much her support over the last twenty-four hours meant to him. How much he appreciated her being there for him, with him, holding him when it was exactly what he needed, when he was sure she wasn't exactly feeling great herself. She'd put aside whatever discomfort or issues she was dealing with to be there for him, and that was something he would never really be able to get over. He could feel the need, almost overwhelming, to say it, to make her understand just what it all meant to him.

"Thank you," he settled on, disappointed in himself for not finding something better, something more powerful, more poignant to say. He'd thanked her last night, and even then it hadn't been nearly enough. Now, it was almost laughably insufficient. But it was all he had. "Thanks for—"

"Scott, stop. I didn't do anything. I was just—"

"You were here," he stated steadily, cutting her off. "You were here when you didn't have to be. You could have stayed at the clinic. You could have gone home. But you didn't. You stayed with me, and that…" He had to stop, swallow heavily, take a second to gather himself. He hadn't meant to get emotional, had just wanted to let her know exactly what her presence meant to him, but it was out of his control. "It means a lot that you were here. That you are here," he finally finished, voice hoarse.

"You asked me to stay," she said softly, after a moment of silence.

"I know. I know I did. But you could have said no. Or you could have gone home while I was still sleeping. I wouldn't have held it against you, you know that. But you didn't leave. You stayed. So, thank you."

"Scott." He fell silent as she squeezed his hand. "You don't have to thank me. For anything. I wanted to be here." Quieter, "I want to be here. I want to help you. I know you'd do the exact same thing for me if I needed it. If I needed you. And I did. Last night wasn't easy for me either. I—you're—" Her eyes were locked on his, wide open, and there was something in them, a vulnerability he wasn't used to seeing in her. "I care about you," she finished softly.

He swallowed heavily. "Malia, I…." Again, his words failed him, leaving him staring at her, unsure of what to do, what to say next.

In the end, he wasn't sure what did it. Maybe she could read the emotion on his face. Maybe she was tired of watching him fumble his words, tired of waiting for him to figure it out. Maybe she'd known all along.

The kiss started soft, hesitant, like she wasn't sure how he'd react, and for just the briefest of seconds, he froze up. He hadn't been expecting her to close the distance between them like that. But his brain quickly caught up to the reality of the situation, and then he was kissing her back, putting everything he had into it, trying to convey all the feelings he'd been repressing in that single physical gesture. He wasn't sure if it was all coming through, but a second later, she was rolling him onto his back, straddling his waist, her lips finding his again unerringly, and everything else faded away.

There was only silence and stillness when she eventually pulled away, an indeterminable amount of time where they just looked at each other, like they were both waiting for the other to say something first. Scott didn't trust himself to speak right away, not with what he was seeing in her eyes, with the way his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest. Instead, he took a couple of deep breaths, letting himself feel her weight pressing down on him, the lingering tingle on his lips, physical proof that he wasn't dreaming, that he hadn't imagined it.

That it was real.

"So, that was…" He had to pause and clear his throat when his voice cracked. "That was—"

"That," she said, cutting him off, "was something I've been thinking about doing for awhile."

"Yeah?" She nodded, gaze laser-focused on his, and he couldn't have kept the elated smile off his face if he tried. "Me too." There were a million things he could have said then. He could have asked how long, could have asked why now. He could have confessed his own desires, told her exactly how he felt, what he wanted. He could have said anything. "You, uh, you wanna do it again?"

The little peal of laughter she let out lit up the room brighter than any sunlight ever could. Then her lips were on his again and the only thing on his mind was getting as physically close to her as he could. Hands slid under clothing, found warm skin, clutching, grasping, holding her tight as she kissed him passionately, hungrily, in a way he'd fantasised about more often than he would ever admit. His whole world was reduced to just her, the feel of her against him, her scent all around him, her taste on his tongue. Just her and him and a bond that had never been stronger.

In that moment, it didn't matter what was happening around them, what was waiting outside, the danger, the fear, the anger. None of it. The only thing that mattered was the two of them and the connection that existed between them.

As much as he was enjoying himself, things came to their end before too long when Malia broke away, breathing heavily and heart racing. He could see the heat in her eyes, the flush in her cheeks, the desire written all over her face, and it sent a thrill racing through him, knowing it was aimed at him, that she wanted him.

Only the knowledge that they needed to talk kept him from pulling her close again, going for more. He had things he wanted to say, things he wanted to ask, things that needed to be clarified. Like what exactly they were doing, what they both wanted, what this was. A necessary conversation, because he needed to know, needed to make sure they were both on the same page before they went any further. He needed her to understand that there was nothing casual about this for him, that it was so much bigger than that.

Before he could say a single word, she kissed him again, short and sweet, then flashed him an uncertain smile. "We should probably talk, huh?"

"Yeah. Right." He wasn't afraid to admit his faculties weren't exactly running on all cylinders at the moment, his mind more than a little fogged by her. "About us. Yes."

She arched an eyebrow. "Is there an us?"

"Yes!" He winced as soon as the word left his mouth, painfully aware his response had been way too enthusiastic. "Yes," he repeated, calmer, as her eyes lit up, lips twitching. "I mean, if you want there to be."

"I could be convinced," she murmured, leaning in for more.

Unfortunately, before they could reconnect, his phone went off, the sound ominously loud as it shattered the quiet, the peace that existed in his room. Any other time, under any other circumstances, he would have ignored it, blocked it out, kept his focus on her. But he couldn't. Not this time. Not today.

"Shit." He flashed her a strained smile as she froze, expression gone sour. "Timing, huh?"

"No kidding." She dropped her forehead down against his shoulder and groaned, then huffed out a sigh. "Okay. You'd better get that," she said as she rolled off him, stretched out along his side. "It could be important."

"Yeah." Just for a second, he hesitated, reluctant to move, to switch focus to anything other than her, to what had just happened. But reality was calling, and there was too much going on to ignore it. Sitting up, he leaned back against the wall and grabbed his phone off his bedside table. "It's Argent," he muttered, after looking at the display. "Hang on." Accepting the call, he put it on speaker. "Hey, you're on speaker."

"Who's there?"

"Malia's here with me," he said, smiling at her as she slid her hand across his chest, palm coming to rest directly over his heart.

"Okay, good. Listen, I'm on my way over to you guys now. I've got a list of locals my father's worked with in the past, and we need to talk to them. It's possible one of them knows something, or has seen him recently, or… I don't know." He let out a heavy sigh, his exhaustion obvious even over the phone, clear as day in his words, his tone. "It's a long shot, but if we want to find out what he's planning before he makes his next move, we're going to need to get a little lucky here. He may have reached out for supplies or something else he needs. You two up for some leg work?"

"Yeah, of course. We'll be ready to go when you get here." He paused, almost afraid to ask the next question, until he felt Malia lean her head against his shoulder, lending silent support. "Any more trouble last night, or this morning?"

"No, nothing. And there won't be, not for a couple of days, I think."

"You hope," he said grimly.

Another heavy sigh. "Listen, I know you're worried, Scott, and I get it, but I also know my father. This is what he does. He's going to sit back and let us play out every awful scenario in our heads. He's going to let us worry about what's coming, let that uncertainty, everything that we don't know mess with us for as long as possible. And then he'll strike. When he thinks we're at our lowest, our most unsettled. That's his play. It's always been his play."

Scott was silent for a moment, fighting back his instinctive urge to argue. Partly because he knew Argent was right, knew he had to trust the man to know his own father. But mostly because, in the end, it didn't really matter. Whether Gerard struck back immediately or not, the threat was still there. He had the numbers, and he could make a move at any time. Preparations had to be made, precautions taken, contingencies planned for. For peace of mind, and because if they weren't and something terrible happened, he'd never forgive himself.

That being said, there was no point in digging in on the subject right now. Everybody was as safe as they could be, all on high alert, on the lookout for danger. That vigilance should be enough for now, probably, hopefully, until they could all get together and figure out the ground rules, what they all needed to do to keep themselves safe going forward.

"Okay. I hope you're right."

"Me too," was the solemn reply.

Sighing wearily, Scott brought a hand up and rubbed at his forehead. "All right. How far out are you?"

"Not far. I'll be there soon."

"Okay, we'll be ready." It wouldn't take long for either of them to get dressed. They'd have to stop off at Malia's house to get her some clean clothes at some point, but they could worry about that once they were on the move. "Do we need to bring anything, or…?"

"No. Just—just be prepared to get your hands dirty." Distaste was dripping from his voice. "These people, the ones my father knows… they aren't nice people. They won't want to talk to us. We may have to persuade them." He let that hang out there for a second, his implication clear. "Are you okay with that?"

"Yeah." Scott was nodding even before his eyes found Malia's, saw the same burning conviction in their depths he could feel in himself. "We're okay with that."

The call ended then, and for a moment afterward, he just sat there, staring at his phone, thinking about what was coming. He had no idea how many names were on Argent's list, how long it would take to get through it, if anybody would even have any information to give up. There was no guarantee Gerard had reached out to anyone. With his little army at his disposal, he may not have needed any outside help at all. And if that was the case, it made things very complicated. If there was no one else, no allies, no acquaintances to tell them anything, they'd have to move forward blind, take the fight to him, and risk a repeat of last night.

"This is going to be a fucking mess, isn't it?"

Pulled from his thoughts, he looked at Malia, found her studying him closely, and flashed her a humourless smile as he tossed his phone back down on the table. "Yeah. Yeah, it will. Gerard is…" He trailed off, shook his head. "If he left any tracks at all, we'll be lucky to find them. And he probably left a couple fake trails for us to follow too. The guy's a…" He hesitated, not quite sure what to call him, not sure if there was a word strong enough to describe how awful he was.

"An asshole?" she supplied. "A monster?"

He huffed out a breath. "Yeah, both of those. And I just… God, I wish he would have stayed gone. It would have made things so much easier."

It was her turn to let out a huff at that. "Since when have our lives ever been easy?"

"Never." Catching her eye, he clasped his hand over hers on his chest, a wistful smile twisting his lips. "But I think it might be nice if they were every once in awhile."

"Come on, Scott. Why should things ever be easy or simple when they can be hard and terrible?" He snorted at her wry tone, shaking his head as she reclaimed her spot on top of him, straddling his waist. "Listen," she said, her hands going to his shoulders while his gently grasped her hips. "Shit is ugly, and it's probably only gonna get uglier. But that's kind of our thing, isn't it? We always figure it out, we always handle it. No matter how bad it gets." Eyes locked on his, she smiled grimly. "We can do ugly."

He hummed deep in his throat. "Yeah, we can definitely do that." History had proven that, over and over, more times than he cared to really think about. Which actually did help a bit, boosted his confidence. No way to know how this would play out, but no matter how bad it got, he knew his friends, his pack would be right there with him, fighting tooth and claw to the bitter end. He just hoped when it did come to that end, things turned out in their favour.

"We got this, Scott." Bringing her hand to his cheek, she patted it gently, then leaned in and touched her forehead to his. "We've got this. Now, come on. We should get dressed before Argent shows up."

"Yeah. Yeah, we should."

Even as he said the words, he was tilting his head, bringing his lips to hers once again. No matter what happened, the day was going to be long, a real slog, with no guarantee of success, of finding anything at all. There was only one sure positive, and it was her, it was this, it was finally being able to kiss her, hold her the way he'd been dreaming of. Before anything else happened, before they stepped outside and went to work, before they faced whatever came next, he wanted this, one bright spot to keep him going.

They didn't have long, only a moment, but he was going to make it a great one.


AN: Let me know if you liked it!