Nowhere Man 6/?

[1lostone]

Title:  Nowhere Man
Fandom: Teen Wolf (Still regretting NOTHING!)
Words: (this chap) aprox 5200
Summary: When Stiles leaves Beacon Hills, he does it without a backwards glance. For two years he is happy on the other side of the country- until someone targets not only him, but his daughter.Unfortunately, the asshole bodyguard his dad hired to make sure he gets back home is none other than Derek Hale. And that's really not very good for either of them.
Warnings: Attempt at plot!  Angst! Descriptions of panic attacks! alpha/omega dynamics(made up to fit this story. They're not the "typical" dynamics you find in fic)! Creepy stalker behavior! A metric fuckton of more angst! Boys being stupid! (mostly) Off-screen mpreg and ... kid!fic! This is a wip.
Anyway, this is dedicated to mah bb, jlm121 because I love her.   Beta'd by the amazing diva0789!


Read on Ao3   ||  Chapter 1  || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3  || Chapter 4  || Chapter 5 ||

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Chapter warning: author attempts at science-y reproductive stuff. Don’t laugh too hard. You’re reading a story about angsty pregnant werewolves. Please continue to suspend your disbelief, lol. :D

It was a stupid thing to do.  The thing was, Stiles knew it was stupid while he was doing it.  But did that stop him? No. No it did not. One smartass comment from Derek, and Stiles was stomping off like he was still a teenager.  Still, he would probably be hearing about this particular move from both his dad and his ... and Derek in the very near future. Repeatedly.

Assuming he got out of this, of course.

Still, he wasn’t completely helpless.  Stiles could feel that he was tied up. He could feel the hard plastic of a zip tie at his ankles and at his wrists.  The tie at his ankles allowed him to move just slightly. Stiles didn’t know if that was on purpose or not. The one at his wrists cut into the fragile skin there. His fingers were numb, and his elbow hurt from the way he was laying on it. Still, it could be worse.  

He could still be knocked out.

Or he could have taken Zoe with him to the mailbox.

Stiles cringed, biting back the pained sound with effort.  

Part of him just wanted this to be over. Whatever ‘ this ’ was.  A kidnapping?  Yeah. That sounded about right. Stiles didn’t think that he’d been out of it for all that long, but the windows were tinted just enough that he couldn’t tell if it was still evening or not. He didn’t want to move and give away that he was awake, even though his head was throbbing from the way it hung off the leather upholstery, like a dead fish. So, either Derek and his dad were looking for him, or he and the fucker who’d brained him were almost to wherever they were going.

It didn’t take much brainpower to realize that he was being taken to the mysterious Alpha.  He wondered at the curiously numb feeling he was experiencing. Shouldn’t he be scared? Shouldn’t he be terrified? But no, everything was just kind of fuzzy and numb. Calm.

“I know you’re awake, you know.”

Stiles froze.  He knew that voice!  He blinked, rapidly trying to shake the stupid out of his brain, desperately trying to remember what he’d seen when Derek’s car had pulled up to where Stiles was bending over to get the mail. Stiles was pretty sure he’d recognize the growl of that car anywhere.  He hadn’t even thought twice about turning and answering the friendly “Hey! Sorry to bother you but…” that he’d heard, thinking that it had to have been one of Derek’s pack.  Stiles had turned, bending to peek into the Camaro’s window and the gun had come out of nowhere. He remembered that he’d had just enough time for a startled squeak before his t-shirt was jerked forward throwing him off balance. The gun hitting his head had sent him swimming into blackness before he could think about screaming for help.

“Come on now, Stiles. I could smell when you woke up. You might as well sit up. We’ll be there in just a little bit.”

Cautiously, Stiles did as asked.  His stomach wasn’t entirely thrilled with him when he moved. Stiles tried to hold back from being sick, but it occurred to him that he didn’t particularly give a shit about this guy or this guy’s - Derek’s? - car, so he let it fly. It wasn’t his fault if a little splashed onto the back of the driver’s arm.

He did feel a little better after, except for the way his eyes wanted to vibrate out of their sockets.

“Oh ma—an,” The driver whined.  “That’s just fuckin’ sick .” He twisted in the driver’s seat, trying to wipe off his arm.

Stiles pushed as best he could with his shoulder to sit up the rest of the way.  “You’re the one who is completely gun happy.” Stiles shrugged.  He stared at the face of the young wolf that had usually been tasked with answering Ethel’s door, sluggish mind slowly working.

“So... Ethel…”

The wolf laughed. “ Eth el?! That old bitch? Are you crazy? You know, Harper always said you were something special . I don’t see it. You seem kind of stupid to me.”

Stiles managed not to roll his eyes, but only because he was afraid they’d fall out of his head if he did. He gently touched his shoulder to his temple, unsurprised when the white t-shirt came away bloody.  “You’ve been in Ethel’s pack for as long as I’ve known you. It’s not that big of a stretch.” He shifted over as far away from the driver as he could, sliding across the leather seat slowly.

“As long as you’ve known me, huh? Really Stiles? You think you know me? What’s my name then?”  The young wolf’s eyes met his in the rearview mirror, cold and glaring. “You don’t know my name… after two years. That’s the kind of shit I’m talking about. Oh you? Sure... you’re okay because you saved Harper. But the rest of us Omegas are like the fucking wallpaper. Unless they want to breed. Then all of the sudden we’re useful.”

Stiles lost his balance when the guy changed lanes.  “You’re pissed because you weren’t invited to the cool table at lunch? What does that have to do with me? I’m not competition with you. I don’t even have a heat anymore.” He struggled to sit up again, bracing one shoulder against the car door. The glass of the window felt cool against his overheated face. Stiles forced himself to drag his gaze up to the rearview mirror.

The wolf smirked. “Yeah.  You have no idea how easy it was. He promised me that I’d have everything I wanted. All I had to do was set a few things in motion so you’d come back to home. Plant some cameras. Switch out your--- shit !”  Stiles watched as he switched back to the other lane. “But I guess it’s easier to pull shit over on the Beacon Hills Alpha than Ethel since you’re not part of her pack. You’re not part of any pack. Are you?” The wolf’s lips twisted in another smirk.

Stiles stifled the small surge of hurt. He wasn’t Ethel’s pack. By choice. His choice.  The absolute last thing that he wanted was any kind of responsibility of having a pack. He’d tried that once and it hadn’t exactly worked out, had it? He had Zoe. Zoe had him. That was all he needed. Stiles blinked, trying to focus on what the wolf had said. He had the feeling that he was missing something. Something important. It was kind of hard to focus. His head was pounding now, his stomach rolling unpleasantly as the driver accelerated, swearing under his breath.

Stiles groaned as the driver turned again the wheel again, jerking the car to the other lane. Belatedly it occurred to him that the driver was trying to get away from someone. Stiles’ head knocked lightly against the window then he lost his balance completely as he was thrown forward against the passenger seat. He tried to brace his feet against the floorboard, but couldn’t move quickly enough.  Stiles caught a glimpse of the semi’s brake lights only a split second before the driver did. Instinct made him fold himself down onto the floorboard, trying to make himself as small of a target as possible. Stiles heard the wolf scream, felt gravity tilt when the car’s wheels left the ground.  He felt like he was on a tilt-a-whirl; watched as everything shifted. He couldn’t help the way he squeezed his eyes shut.

Stiles had the crazy thought that maybe he was dreaming- that this wasn’t really happening, but with a screech of metal and a hellacious crash, reality slammed back towards him like a punch to the face. Stiles hit his shoulder on something hard and bit off a whimper as his stomach rolled again.  

For a few seconds all he heard was the frantic thud of his heartbeat echoed by the tinkle of falling glass.  Stiles opened his eyes, wincing when blood dripped into it. He licked his lips, blinking stupidly at the interior of the car. It looked different. Upside down.

“ Stiles! ”

Stiles jolted, looking up at Derek. The car had obviously crashed, and Stiles was just as obviously wedged in the front seat floorboard, twisted up with his feet almost on the seat. He hadn’t even realized that he’d been tossed that far.  Derek leaned forward through the broken windshield, moving so that he could reach out for Stiles.

Stiles just blinked. The fuzziness in his head was sending the small space in the car rolling around, like the vehicle was in the process of flipping again. Stiles wasn’t sure what was real, or what was just in his head. Derek’s voice was just as indistinct, just as confusing.

He thought he heard Derek’s growl, the one that he used to use when he was worried. Not that Derek would ever admit to being worried, but once upon a time, Stiles used to be pretty good at deciphering Derek’s growls to fit any particular sourwolf emotion. That didn’t make any sense.  Derek didn’t care about him, right?  It was very confusing. But before Stiles could try to figure it out, the blackness rushed up to meet him, and Stiles didn’t really care about much of anything.  

***
Stiles blinked awake, feeling like his eyelids had weights attached to them. He saw a bright light overhead and winced, squeezing his eyes shut again. His nose wrinkled at the strong smell of antiseptic and clorox. It gave him a sense of place.  Doctor’s office. Not a hospital?

As though from far away, Stiles heard Zoe’s muffled talking, heard Derek’s voice and his dad’s low response. He must have made some kind of pain sound, because between one blink and another his dad’s face swam up over him, looking down.

“Stiles? Jesus , Stiles.”

“Da-” Stiles coughed, wincing at the dryness of his throat. “Dad?” He tried it again, licking at dry lips. His head throbbed painfully.  “What--?” Stiles reached up to touch his head, grimacing at the feeling of the butterfly bandage holding his skin over his left eye together.

“What happened? You mean from when you were p istol-whipped and kidnapped from outside my house ? Oh, not too much. I need to paint the house. Kate and Tom broke up. I need to mow the grass. What the actual fuck , Stiles?”

Stiles held up a hand. “Can we do this without the shouting? My head is kind of fucked.”

His dad made a face that looked like a cross between constipation and an aneurysm. It was a look Stiles remembered well.  Stiles had the crazy urge to apologize. “Look. I’m sorry that I stomped off like that, but I still think you’re crazy to ask---”

“Crazy, huh? I still think it’s the best--”

Stiles  forced himself to sit up, wincing at the scrunchy sound of the paper on the examination table. It sounded much louder than it was supposed to.  He blinked, catching sight of Derek bending over Zoe. Rage hit him like a punch.  “Get away from her!”

“Stiles--”

Stiles didn’t even hear his dad’s cautious tone. He was too focused on getting Derek away from his daughter.  He ignored the way he had to grip the examination table so that he didn’t end up on his ass and took a lurching step forward, “You have got to be crazy to think I would spend one second with him! You want to be glad he came and got me? Fine. Great. You trust him enough to work our security system? Again, fine. Whatever. But you want to ask him why the guy who kidnapped me was in Derek’s fucking car ?”  Stiles ignored the way the floor spun as he bent to grab Zoe, pulling her up and onto his hip with a wince. He took two large steps back. “I’m just saying- I only know two Alphas. One is an eighty-year old woman who collects those stupid fucking teaspoons.  The other? Is right.... there !”

“Stiles.”

If Derek had sounded pissed, or frustrated, Stiles would have walked out of there. Somehow. Even if he had to bowl over Derek to do it. If he had sounded concerned, or shown any fake pity (because there’s no way that Derek would have enough emotion to actually pity anyone, let alone Stiles) Stiles would have tried to kick him in the balls before walking out.

But Derek didn’t do any of that.

His shoulders slumped. He pinched the top of his nose, and sighed heavily, looking for all the world like he was completely exhausted.  Derek looked up  at Stiles’ dad, then back to Stiles, over his forehead, down his filthy t-shirt, over the little girl held in Stiles’ arms.  If possible, it looked like even more of the fight went out of Derek. It was enough that Stiles tilted his head, widening his gaze.  When his dad came up to lightly touch his back, Stiles jumped. It sent his head throbbing. Reflexively, he squeezed Zoe to him. As before in his bedroom, just holding her and smelling her sweet baby-shampoo scent (although Stiles was pretty sure he detected the odor of chocolate ice cream) made him feel better almost immediately.

“Stiles. Look. You’re right. You have... no reason to trust me. But you can’t stay here. Your dad is right. You have to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

“You keep saying what I have to do, Derek. But you don’t seem to think I can keep up with any explanations. Why don’t you just... “  Fuck off. Stiles bit his lip to keep the words back behind his teeth. Seeing Derek like this was confusing as hell.  “.. just tell me what’s going on?”

“Excuse me?”

The three of them jumped in unison, which Stiles would have thought pretty damn hilarious at just about any other moment in his life.  The doctor stood there, her eyebrow raised as she looked at the three of them caught in their tense tableau.

“Mr. Stilinski?”

Stiles opened his mouth before he realized she wasn’t talking to him. He hadn’t been ‘Mr. Stilinski’ in a long time.

“Yes?”

“I need you to sign here and here, please,” she said, thrusting a clipboard towards Stiles’ dad. “And I would like to once again point out that this is very much against medical advice. Here we can monitor your son. The excess levels of norepinephrine in his bloodstream, the testosterone-based luteinizing hormone... you can’t seriously think he would be better off--”

Derek’s growl cut her off mid babble. Stiles heard her words ricocheting around his brain like pebbles in a tin can.

“Wait. I’m... I’m in heat ?” There was an almost painfully awkward moment where Stiles felt both his father and Derek jerk their gazes to him. “That’s... That’s not possible.”  He felt like his knees were turning to jelly. “I’ve. I’ve been very careful.” Not true- his mind supplied. He’d missed one of his suppressants. But that couldn’t have possibly mattered. He’d had over two years of a build-up of immunity to his own body’s fucked-up chemistry. He’d been told that missing one pill worked kind of like a woman and birth control- that he’d be okay as long as he took the double dose as soon as he remembered. “I want the injection then.”

“Stiles--” Shit. His dad had that cautious tone that let Stiles know he was about to hear something that he really, really didn’t want to hear. “You can’t.”

That didn’t make any sense. Of course he could.

Stiles actually physically jerked away from Derek when he heard Derek’s words. “It’s a reproductive instinct , Stiles, not a reproductive cycle .” Derek’s voice was flat aside from the emphasis he was putting on the differences between werewolves and humans. “You can’t just ... keep it from happening with drugs and hormones.”

Stiles jerked again, as though he’d been slapped. He was beyond humiliation, beyond anger at the idea of his business, his body being discussed like it was nothing in that horrible, unemotional voice of Derek’s. “That’s exactly what I’ve been doing since I first presented.”

The doctor, who had been watching the conversation like a spectator at a ping-pong match, gasped. “You’ve been suppressing your heat for-” she checked his chart. “For over two years ?”

“I’m not like full-blooded Omegas. It’s not that difficult.”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s just that. The labs on the bloodwork aren’t back yet, but when they are I can tell you they’ll support the fact that you’ve pumped your body so full of ‘suppressants’ that your own cycle doesn’t know which way is up.  Your boyfriend is right. There’s not much you can do about biological instinct.”  She flipped to a page in the chart, pointing at it as though the almost illegible scrawl proved her point. “The suppressants your father brought with you from your things were not suppressants, but a common... hormone en hanc er. Instead of stifling your heat, it has brought it-” she broke off to lick her lips in a way that was purely unconscious as her eyes flicked an unnatural blue, nostrils flaring slightly as though scenting  the air in the small room- “out.” She jerked, shaking herself out of it. Her face flooded with embarrassment and the doctor forced herself to take two large steps back from Stiles. She flicked her gaze to Derek and back to her chart, flushing.

That.   That was exactly why Stiles had no interest in embracing his mom’s heritage. He didn’t even know this woman, but she’d obviously scented whatever funky scent he was exhibiting (It was really difficult to not compare his heat to someone ringing the dinner bell in an old Western and yelling ‘Come and get it!’) and just reacted, regardless of the fact that his dad and his kid were both in the same room.  Stiles blinked. Wait. His suppressants had been switched out? He blinked again, a numb sort of fury beginning behind his chest. Something that the wolf had said popped into his exhausted brain, but before he could make any sort of connection, he lost his train of thought.

Stiles could see out of the corner of his eye as Derek turned his head slowly towards the doctor. He couldn’t see what was on Derek’s face, but he didn’t really need to. She babbled something about a concussion, and something else about the care of Stiles’ various cuts and bruises, before disappearing from the room as though she’d just remembered another urgent appointment elsewhere.  

“Daddy?”

Stiles had to take a deep breath, physically forcing himself out of his head and back in the moment. The swimmy feeling he’d had while in the car kept threatening to overwhelm him.  “Yes, baby?” Zoe had been uncharacteristically quiet until now, perfectly content to snuggle against Stiles’ chest while everyone around her talked.

“Why do you have an owwie on your head? Do you want me to kiss it better?”

Stiles blinked, already nodding. “That would be a big help actually. I have an owwie on my head because there was someone who wants daddy to leave you and grandpa and go stay with him for awhile.” Stiles winced, remembering the young driver twisted next to him in the seat, halfway through the windshield.  Whatever grand plan he’d had was abruptly ended when he’d wrecked Derek’s car. At the time his bleeding out had an almost dreamlike quality to it, but now it was almost viscerally real. Stiles felt bile in his throat and forced himself to put down Zoe. He crossed to the small sink and helped himself to some cool, sweet water, purposefully breathing in and out, slowly forcing control over his trembling, exhausted body.

“You know? It just occured to me that I can’t put this together without all the pieces. Derek- you can’t tell me that some guy I’ve never met before wants me that badly. The kid in your car..? I didn’t even know his name. But he hated me so much for having Zuh- uh. For being an Omega that he was willing to leave Ethel’s pack for a chance with this ... guy.”

“Zoe come here a minute, honey. I’ll take you to find a snack. I think I have some cookies in the car.”

Zoe’s face lit up, and Stiles was too exhausted to protest either the completely obvious way his dad orchestrated things so he could beat a hasty exit stage left, or the way he was finally too numb to feel much at finally having the chance to have it out with Derek.  Before the doctor had interrupted them-- and no fucking way was Stiles actually ready to acknowledge what she’d said, thank you very much-- Derek had seemed on the verge of... Stiles inwardly shrugged, bending his neck and splashing some  more of the water over his face, carefully avoiding his reflection in the small mirror above the sink. The butterfly bandage and the circles under his eyes made his skin look almost translucent in the harsh fluorescent lights.

He was just really, really sick of this shit. Stiles turned, watching with dull eyes as Zoe walked out of the room with her hand clasped firmly in his dad’s. His dad, for his part, gave Stiles one quick, unreadable glance before shutting the door softly behind him.  Stiles turned to look at Derek, raising his eyebrow at the way Derek just stood there, staring down at the linoleum.

Stiles took a few steps and sat down in the chair, stretching out with a wince. “Do you realize that it’s only been three days since I called my dad? This is so, so fucked up.”

Derek took a deep breath. Stiles watched him from under his eyelids. Derek shifted his weight, popping his knuckles, then his neck nervously before leaning against the examination table with his arms folded over his chest, facing Stiles.

“You’re right. I’ve not been telling you everything.”

Stiles snorted. He stopped himself from rolling his eyes just in time to save himself endless amounts of pain. Stiles also managed to keep the No shit, Sherlock from coming out of his mouth. Barely. It took some effort.

“Your dad told me that we’re not leaving this room until I told you everything.”

Stiles couldn’t help the bark of laughter. “Really. You’re going to tell me everything, huh?”  It was mean of him, but Stiles didn’t even have it in him to care.  From the angle that he was slouched in the chair, Stiles could see that Derek’s face was all cheekbones and angles, tilted as it was as he stared at the floor.

Derek held up one hand, tiredly. “Damnit, Stiles. I’m not exactly the only person in this room keeping secre--” Derek broke off what he was going to say with a low curse. Stiles felt his heart freeze in his chest as he watched Derek take a calming breath. He felt like his entire body was hit with a live wire. There was no way. No way Derek could possibly be saying what Stiles thought he was saying.

“I used to have a really big pack. The Hale family, I mean. No one ever thought it was dangerous for all of us to live in each other’s pockets, because we were so powerful. Until Kate figured out that strategically, it was a really... efficient way of killing several birds with one stone.”

Stiles winced. That had to be just about the saddest, most unfortunate metaphor that he’d ever heard.

“My mom was the Alpha back then. I was the youngest of everyone, so I didn’t really deal with--” Derek broke off, making a gesture like he was waving off a fly. “all the pack stuff. Laura didn’t know what the hell she was doing, but since the pack was pretty damn small by then, it didn’t really matter. So, when I was the Alpha, the actual idea that another pack would want to move in on me. On... my family’s territory... I.”  Derek broke off, looking up at Stiles for the first time.  “I didn’t handle it well.”

Stiles forced himself to sit there and not show any reaction to Derek’s words. He knew that he shouldn’t be feeling any sort of pity for Derek; for the kid who’d gone through a terrible, unimaginable trauma. Stiles had been so hurt, so beyond pissed at Derek for so long that it seemed unfathomable that he could feel anything for Derek that wasn’t hatred.

Only- that was the problem. He’d felt a lot of things for Derek Hale over the years. And if Stiles was honest- very little of those things were anything approaching something as cut and dried as hatred.  “Okay.”  He didn’t know what else to say.  That seemed pretty safe.

Derek pressed his lips together. When he spoke it was low. “That’s an understatement. That... last time  you and. We...”

Stiles sat up as though called to attention. His stomach rolled, the headache pounding behind his eyes. “No. Hell, no. Still not talking about that. Look.” Stiles ignored the beat of panic in his gut. “I appreciate this... opening up thing that you’re doing. I’m sure it’s made you a warmer and fuzzier Alpha. But right now I have a concussion from some kid- a kid I’ve known for two years mind you- deciding to chauffeur me to his Alpha’s house via the pistol-whipping school of taxi driving. That crazy doctor just told me that I’m probably going to be going into heat in the next day or so, and oh yeah . There’s some whackjob out to make me his bitch. Do you think we can move this along a little? Maybe stick to the pertinent facts?”

Derek flinched. If Stiles hadn’t been looking right at him, he never would have believed it. On anyone else, Stiles would have said that his words had hurt them.

But that was ridiculous.

Derek’s jaw tightened. “You do know the other Alpha. You dated him.”

Stiles repeated what he’d just heard in his head. Even the second time, it made no sense. “The only person I’ve ever dated was you.” Stiles didn’t recognize the voice he was using. It was like some twisted, dark version of his normal voice, pulled unwillingly from his gut. Whatever the fuck Derek was saying just made no sense.

Derek scoffed. “I’m sure you would remember him considering that he shot you.”

Stiles blinked.

Derek frowned.

Stiles blinked again.

“I didn’t date him. For Christ’s sake, I barely knew the guy!”

Derek huffed out a breath, like he was trying to remain calm.

Stiles didn’t know why this one, little fact was so important. “Derek. You know when I’m lying. Get your stupid sourwolf head out of your stupid sourwolf ass and listen . I was just distracting him so you and Scott could do-” Stiles waved his hand around. “Not like I know what your plan was, because you never bothered to tell me. But as a distraction it was top form, if I do say so myself.”

Derek was staring at him, so pale that his scruff looked almost blue in the florescent light of the medical office.

Stiles gave him a ‘ seriously what the fuck ’ look. “What?”

Derek shifted forward, like he was about to take a step.  Stiles squared his shoulders, feeling like he was missing half of the script to an important part of a movie.

“But I thought...” Derek trailed off, obviously not even realizing that he was speaking out loud. His voice was barely above a whisper.

Stiles slumped back in the chair. “Okay so.. this guy. That I kissed like, once, suddenly has a hard-on for me? Like, watching me sleep and stalking my daughter and. Wait. Wait . That guy. Ethel’s wolf said that he put stuff in motion so I’d come home.”

Derek nodded, a little woodenly. His gaze was still looking off somewhere over Stiles’ head, as though he were deep in thought and only partially following the conversation.

Stiles had to quell the urge to snap his fingers to get Derek’s attention. “Derek. Focus here, man. Let’s put aside the incredibly bizarre fact that for whatever reason, that Alpha seems to think I’m going to move in with him, after he’s tried  to kill me and my baby,  and live in  some kind of twisted domestic bliss. Let’s also put aside the fact that he had me taken right outside my home. He’s powerful, he knows a lot of people. You and my dad seem to think that running away is the best idea, but if you know who this guy is, can’t you just track him down?”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried ? He’s gone underground. That’s why Mark and I think it would be easier to control the situation if we weren’t playing right into his fucking hands. He wants you here- well. We go somewhere else, so he’s off-base. Out of his comfort zone.”

“For how long, Derek? How long am I supposed to just wander around the west coast and hide from this asshole?” Stiles didn’t even realize that he’d gotten to his feet until he swayed and Derek reached out as though he didn’t even need to think about it steadying Stiles on his feet. Stiles was so shocked by the jolt of Derek’s skin against his that he just stood there a little stupidly, staring up at him.

“You’re right. As plans go, it’s pretty damn weak. Your dad has some outside help on this, and he’s convinced that they can track him as long as you and Zoe are out of harm’s way. Look. Stiles.” Derek’s hand tightened briefly on Stiles’ elbow before letting go and falling by his side.

“There is nothing that I can say that will excuse what I did to you. Nothing .” Derek’s throat worked. “I just need you to trust me enough to believe that. I will keep you and Zoe safe, Stiles.”



Tbc!

One million apologies for the lateness in this chapter. Those of you that follow me on tumblr and twitter know I’ve broken my hand.  Typing with two fingers is a bit of a challenge, to say the least! Thank you for your patience.


As always, thanks for commenting and the concrit, either here tumblr, or twitter!. :)