1lostone | Nowhere Man 7/10 (maybe 11. lol) |NC-17| (Reply)

Title: Nowhere Man
Fandom: Teen Wolf (Still regretting NOTHING!)
Words: (this chap) aprox 5600
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 || Chapter 6

Ack! I forgot to thank Silvarbelle for looking at the last chapter for me when my other two cheerleaders weren’t available. I completely forgot to thank her for pointing out a few places where I hadn’t flushed out the plot very well. So if you liked the last chapter, make sure to thank her! (And bb, thanks for letting me randomly tumblr bomb you and ask to look at it!!)

While I’m thanking people, diva0789 is always slammed with work and school but always does a fast turnaround. I promise my comma splices would be even worse without her. THANK YOU!

And always, jlm121 for 1) dragging me into this fandom 2) being my best bb and 3) HOW LONG UNTIL MAY AND TREK COMES OUT AND WE SEE IT TOGETHER AGAIN!?!? GODDAMN.

Chapter Warnings: OCs abound. Plotty stuff. And you might need slash-goggles.

CHAPTER 7 --INTERLUDE--

The scream of rage echoed through the hallway. There were several werewolves who winced before shooting furtive looks at each other out of the corner of hastily-lowered eyes at the pain-filled sound. Hearing it wasn’t exactly something that was unique.

“Michael!” The Alpha’s voice roared down the hall.

One of the younger wolves froze before turning and almost running towards the back of the house, the muttered ‘shit’ barely noticeable in the sound of his feet tripping over the rug on the floor, his hip bumping gracelessly against a small end table. The sound of the sighs of relief from the other wolves, all glad that it wasn’t their names he had demanded in the room was clearly audible.

Michael knocked perfunctorily against the door before walking inside. The familiar view from the three different sets of monitors never failed to send a shiver of creepy down his spine. Michael had been tasked with staking out the Stilinski residence with cameras before Stiles had come back to California, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t agree with what his Alpha was doing. The cameras in Stiles’ home weren’t showing anything of course, but the Stilinski ones...

Michael was afraid that he’d see the way Stiles had panicked in his dreams. You couldn’t fake that kind of terror. They hadn’t had sound (that had been Gregory’s job) but it had been easy enough to see the effect the Alpha’s little present had had on everyone. Michael hadn’t wanted to witness that.

The complete and utter irony was that this was all his fault. He’d been bored in the Massachusetts pack. A Beta, but overlooked for Ethel’s own blood. He’d been there the night Stiles had saved Harper’s life. He’d watched Stiles throw himself at the hunter, watched how he’d swung the dropped shotgun like a baseball bat right as the Hunter was ready to send the crossbow through Harper’s heart.

A chance conversation on a messageboard between him and his twin, and suddenly he wasn’t the overlooked, ignored Beta from Ethel’s pack, but courted. When he and Gregory had moved across the country they had been treated well. The best clothes. The best toys. Gregory had been ecstatic, believing that the Alpha had wanted him for more than his body. He’d believed that he was going to be so much more than just another Omega, licking the floor for scraps tossed to him by a largely apathetic Alpha.

Michael and Harper had taken pictures of an exhausted but triumphant Stiles and baby Zoe after she’d been born, and when he’d shown the Alpha those, well. He’d been very pleased. Sometimes Michael would wake up in the middle of the night, his heart pounding at the remembered look on the Alpha’s face when he’d seen Stiles for the first time. But it couldn’t have been the first time, could it? Not with that cold, hyper-aware recognition on his face. Still, there were wolves literally throwing themselves at Michael’s feet to win his favor. Gregory was on cloud nine, in love with someone who he’d believed wanted him.

Then of course it had become time to pay the piper. Little things, really. Put a camera here, a microphone there. The almost negligent conversation where the Alpha had expressed a desire to know more about Stiles. Always Stiles. The note in Zoe’s stroller.

That’s when Michael had realized what he was being asked to do. He didn’t much have anything against Stiles. Funny kid. Big mouth. Kind of a dork. The kid was adorable though. It was hard not to love the little girl... and Stiles was absolutely sweet with her. Gregory had seemed a little too keen on driving the car, attempting to mow down who he thought of as his competition. Michael hadn’t much liked the way his twin had changed, becoming darker and more willing to do the dirty deeds his Alpha had insisted needed to be done. And fucking around with that cute little girl? That shit wasn’t cool at all.

Still, being called onto the carpet now filled him with fear. He well remembered the last time he’d been here. He’d flatly refused to fuck around with Stiles’ medicine. Gregory had been furious at him, and had jumped at the chance to do his Alpha one last favor, despite the wrongness of it. They hadn’t spoken since then because if Gregory couldn’t see how completely fucked up all this was, then Michael didn’t want to be around him. When the Alpha had found out that Gregory had had to take up for his sudden onset of ethics, he’d been less than pleased. That brilliant plan had ended in him tied in silver, forced to watch his own blood slowly draining out of his body for hours, only to heal again. And again. And again as the Alpha sat curled on his seat, face ghostly pale in the light of the reflected computer screens, watching Stiles sleep.

“Gregory is dead.”

Michael blinked, coming out of his thoughts with a jolt.

“Your idiot brother couldn’t handle the simple task of bringing my mate to me.”

“I don’t. I... don’t understand.” Michael’s whisper was like the sound of something already close to death.

There was a growl, and another crash of a broken monitor. Reflex allowed Michael to duck the missile as the Alpha threw it at his head, throwing his head back and screaming with rage. The sound, contained as it was in the small room sent Michael’s own balls crawling up in his gut with terror.

“Hale followed him! He took him somewhere, and I cannot see where they went! It’s always Hale.” The Alpha screamed again, the sound ending in a low growl of pure fear. If Hell had a sound, it would sound like him. “They aren’t at home. They aren’t anywhere! I don’t even know if they’re in Beacon Hills!” Michael couldn’t help the small backwards step he took, back towards the door.

That was a mistake of course. The Alpha’s red eyes snapped to him, sensing the movement of prey. The flash of the Alpha’s teeth were oddly white in the dark room. Michael didn’t even have time to scream before he was on him, pinned and desperately trying to make himself into as small of a target as possible.

Michael’s scream of agony was cut off in a horrible, wet-sounding gurgle as his throat was abruptly torn out.

The werewolves in the other room, cringed, trying not to listen to the sound of teeth tearing apart flesh or the muted, thick sound of contented feeding.

******
“Now look. I’ve had just about enough of your shit.” Lydia looked like the world’s smallest general, seated calmly at her kitchen table. She stood and carefully pushed back her chair, then walked around the room, making eye contact with each person that she’d invited, not bothering to hide the her enjoyment of watching them squirm under her direct gaze. Jackson grinned from where he sat on the kitchen counter. He met her gaze with one raised eyebrow, leaning back a little so that his weight was on his arms, legs swinging a little as he waited.

“Look. I tried to---”

“Oh, shut up.”

Scott shut his mouth with a snap, big brown eyes registering his hurt.

Lydia whirled with a swing of her hair and crossed her arms over her chest, staring at him like something nasty she’d found on her shoe. “What on earth made you think that Stiles would want to see you?”

“He’s. He’s my best friend.”

“Wrong!” Lydia ignored the amused chuff of air from Jackson’s direction. “He was your best friend and you ripped his heart out. Good job. And before you bleat at me about it being two years ago, you didn’t see him after you guys fucked him over.”

“But...”

“You know, McCall, I never really thought you were much. It wasn’t your skill that made you co-captain with me, but the fact that you were some fucked up supernatural creature that gave you the reflexes. It let you mimic being an athlete. And I was okay with that.”

Lydia watched as Scott darted a startled look over at Jackson, eyes widening even more. It was probably the first time he’d heard Jackson speak since they’d all graduated.

Jackson pushed up so that he was sitting straight. “But you didn’t see him. I’m sure you were able to sleep at night- all of you--” his dismissive gaze flicked over Erica and Boyd like they were nothing-- “because you told yourselves that you were doing the right thing. That you were being all noble, or something.”

Lydia didn’t miss the way Danny’s gaze met Jackson’s out of the corner of his eye, his face softening into something almost like pride as Jackson’s words sunk in on the stubborn werewolves around Lydia’s kitchen table.

“Well!” Her voice was brittle with fake kindness. “And that worked out so well for all of you, didn’t it? Allison quit school to out-Argent her whackadoodle grandfather. You two are so dysfunctional that even looking at you causes me physical pain.” It did. Erica and Boyd had probably felt like they were just doing what Derek had ordered them to do, not realizing that sending Stiles away would break all of them. “And Scott. You’ve got nothing. You still work part-time at the vet’s office, trying to to reconcile the fact that your life really hasn’t changed much.” Her voice lowered, the brittleness sounding as saccharine-sweet and artificial as the fake sugar Danny insisted on using in his coffee. “The only thing wrong with that is that you’re not sixteen anymore.”

Scott lowered his head. “I.. I didn’t mean to. I. Just wanted him. To stay safe.”

“Oh yeah? Well that’s gone splendidly. Allison told me that not only was Stiles, your self-professed best friend almost run over by a car, he was assaulted in broad fucking daylight--not to mention the way that his daughter has also been targeted by this psycho.”

Erica’s voice broke a little when she whispered. “Daughter?”

Lydia’s gaze sharpened, turning away from Scott to settle back on the blonde at the table, frozen from where she had nervously been drawing figure-eights on the wood with one fingernail.

“Oh, you missed that? Nice.” Lydia had the urge to pinch the top of her nose to try to stave off the headache that dealing with stupid people always gave her. “Yes. Our dear Stiles is a proud papa.”

“Found them!” Danny almost jumped up from behind the laptop- grinning from ear to ear. Lydia walked quickly back over to where Danny sat curled around his laptop, almost vibrating with excitement. “Look. Whoa, his car is wrecked. I hacked into the security feeds.”

Lydia clucked under her breath.

“What? It’s not my fault they have shitty security. The report says that there were two people in the vehicle, and one was released to his father’s custody. But no mention of Stiles entering any hospital. Hmm. Must be a private clinic.” There was the clackity sounds of Danny typing. “Yeah, nothing yet. It will take me some time to find out where they went. You’re sure they’re okay though?”

Lydia nodded. “Allison’s text said that Mr. Stilinski was in the safe house with her dad. They’re not going back to his place; that it was compromised.” Lydia felt the smooth slide of Jackson’s familiar fingers against the back of her neck and relaxed into him for a minute.

“He wouldn’t have gone to a safe house with Argent if Stiles wasn’t okay.”

“Look, it’s fairly obvious that you guys have us here for a reason. Are you going to tell us what you want us to do? I mean...” Lydia and Jackson turned as one person, staring back at the kitchen table. Boyd so seldom spoke that when he did, people around him couldn’t help but listen. He’d reached over to rest his hand on Erica’s, who had leaned into him with the ease of a move so well-practiced that it was obvious that it was as second-nature as breathing. “..We’d do anything to fix this. We would have done something sooner but we couldn’t find him.”

“Derek thought he was dead.” Erica’s whisper was loud in the quiet room. “He... he was so... I mean I didn’t know he could be like that. He was so sorry, but didn’t have a way to apologize.”

“Well boo fucking hoo for Derek Hale. He never was very good at thinking out the repercussions of his little plans. I spent enough weeks in the hospital to attest to that.” She took a deep breath. The thing was, she was just as complicit as the rest of them. She hadn’t done any better for Stiles than his so-called friends. Not until she’d caught a glimpse of him one day across campus, so rail-thin and broken-looking that at first she hadn’t recognized the sweet, goofy boy that had crushed on her for most of his life.

Lydia shook off her thoughts, tilting her head as she looked from where Danny was typing fiendishly, humming a little under his breath in that way he did when he was completely focused (even knowing how much she needed the information, the tunless or worse- off-key humming still drove her bugshit) to where Jackson still stared at the monitor, one hand resting casually on Danny’s strong shoulder, to the way Scott, Erica and Boyd sat listlessly, looking like dogs who had been kicked one too many times.

“Well. I’m so glad you feel that way. Because we? We’re going to do something to fix this.”

****

Text from unknown number:
--So okay, I think I’d be better off if Jenna was kicking my ass.

Harper:
--stiles?

Text from unknown number:

--Yeah. My phone was broken. Had to get a new one. Haven’t switched over my number yet- just use this one.

Harper:
--okay. (pause to enter number into phone.) how are you? how’s my favorite girl?

--stiles?

Stiles:

--Everything is so fucked. I want to come back but can’t. I need to ask you something, and I need you to not freak out when I do. You’ll tell me the truth right? Please?

Harper:
    --wtf. i’ve never lied to you. WHAT’S WRONG??? i’m going to call you.
    --pick up, stiles.
    --stiles!!

Stiles:
    --No. Bad idea. Texting is better. I’m okay. Mostly. Banged up. Zoe is okay too.

Harper:
    --if that motherfucker has hurt you again...
    --i’ll kill him.
    --i will kill him, stiles. you better tell me what the fuck is going on. now.

Stiles:

--No. Not Derek. Well, not directly. Promise. He wouldn’t hurt me like that. Although this sudden onset of badassness is kind of attractive. We could totally give the lifemates thing another shot. Make your mom happy.

Harper:

--lol. Jenna would rip off your dick and beat you with it. plus you+lady parts= trolllollololol.

    --now enough bs. talk.
    --well, type.
    --goddamnit, can’t i just call you?

Stiles:

-- No, we’re driving. Zoe and I are in the backseat, before you ask. She’s asleep.

-- Okay, I have to ask. How well did you know... shit I can’t remember his name. The guy that always answered your mom’s door.

Harper:
    --gregory?

Stiles:
    -- yeah him.

Harper:
    --not well really. he left not long after you did, why?

Stiles:
    -- Do you think your mom knew he left? Like did she support it?

Harper:
    --stiles tell me what the fuck is going on or i give my mom this number

Stiles:
    -You really can be a bitch.

-- Okay. Gregory kidnapped me. He hit me in the head with a gun and stole Derek’s car so I wouldn’t know it was him. I think he’s dead, but no one said for sure.

-- I would say sorry- but really not. He was taking me to a local Alpha. NOT DEREK.

Harper:
--ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE OK?

--what about zoe

---jfc come HOME. we can protect you

-- and you think my mom would condone this?

Stiles:

- No. That’s why I’m so confused. He was crazy, Harp. And the guy he works for is crazy too. I mean, I kissed him once when I was like, seventeen and he’s been looking for me since. I need you to check out my house. There are cameras hidden all over the pla-

--sorry character limit. Place. Put all my and Zoe’s stuff in storage. You can tell your mom and Jenna but no one else okay?

--Having some trust issues.

-- Harper?

Harper:

--sorry, was flipping the fuck out. Jenna said she’d be ready to go in ten minutes. don’t think i’m being indelicate, but why would gregory do this? are there others in my pack that are fucking little cowards? i want to bite something, ngl. gregory had a bro.

--jenna sez no one has heard from him either. but i can’t believe he’d do anything to you. he’s a good guy.

Stiles:
    --But you’ll do that for me?

Harper:
    -- you kno i will. dumbass. so yr with Derek rn? where are you going?

Stiles:
    --Not completely sure. He’s just driving. It’s weird.

Harper:

--weird how? and we’re going to go over to your place in the am after we talk to mom.

Stiles:

--Weird. There’s something else that I haven’t told you. Fuck. I don’t even want to think about it. Texting you makes it real, almost.

Harper:
--oh jesus. now what.
--aww, thanks for the pic. she looks sweet when she’s sleeping like that.

Stiles:

--I’m in heat. The Alpha wants... me. He made sure I’d be ready when I got here.

Harper:
    --and instead ur driving around with derek?!

Stiles:
    --fml
    --hard to ignore everything. Feels like electricity under my skin.
    --i don’t want to sleep with him, Harp. I don’t think I can when I don’t trust him.

Harper:
    --u never really told me what he did to you.
    -- on second thought, don’t. have a feeling that if i kill him for real you’d be sad.
    --btw. have very important q to ask you. what's a werewolf's least favorite beer?

Stiles:

-- What? Did you mom find something out that would help me figure out who this guy is?

Harper:
    --coors... the silver bullet. haha.

Stiles:
    ---asshole.

Harper:
    -Shut up. you love me.

Stiles:
    --Yeah.
    -- Shit. What am I going to do?

Harper:
    --well, zoe is right there, so i’m thinking blowing him is probably a no-go.
    --i’m kidding
    -- Hey why was the werewolf arrested at the buchers shop?

Stiles:
    --Oh my god.

Harper:
    -- for chop lifting!! CHOP. LIFTINNG!!!!!

Stiles:

--Seriously. Kill me now.

Harper:

--u can’t hide your love. it burns thru like the firey heat of ten thousand burning suns.

--stiles?

--ok ill stop with the jokes. talk to me kid.

--jenna sez hi btw.

--stiles??

Stiles:
    --I’m here. Getting sleepy, but Derek won’t let me go to sleep.

Harper:
    --??!!!??!

Stiles:
    --Concussion. Mild, but my head feels like that time we went out for body shots.

Harper:
    --hm. you know you talked about him that night? funny you mention it now.

Stiles:
    --What? Explain.

Harper:

--one of the reasons i never took you out again. it was hard enough getting you to agree to let my mom watch zoe for a few hours. you didn’t give deets, but it wasn’t hard to tell that someone named derek broke your heart.

Stiles:
--Oh.

Harper:

--i can’t say that i know what you’re going thru stiles. i don’t. sounds fucking terrifying really. but you are pretty obvs fucked up about being in heat. you never wanted to talk about it, and i never pushed.

--okay, i didn’t push. much.

--but just ignoring your body’s cycle like that can’t be good for you. what if something happens to you because of it? what about zoe?

Stiles:

--You’re right. You don’t know a damn thing about it. Look, I have to go anyway. Derek finally pulled over to some hotel.

--You have no idea what it’s like to be a slave to your body, then to hate yourself for it. Because no, I don’t like him. I don’t trust him. My heart is still stupid at just breathing in his scent. But I fucking want him, Harper.

--So don’t go talking about stuff that you CLEARLY have no idea about when your own house needs cleaning up.

Harper:
    --stiles?
    --hey, stiles, come on.
    --don’t be mad
    --i’m sorry, stiles.

*****
Mark Stilinski sighed, staring moodily at the condensation on his beer. The safe house was really more of a safe apartment, owned by the Argents and rented out to hunters. It never failed to amuse him how the tiny town of Beacon Hills was fairly bursting at the seams with supernatural creatures of just about every shape and size, and enough glory-seeking hunters to take out each and every one of them, yet they didn’t have their own Wal-Mart.

He’d never been particularly fond of Chris Argent. It was like swallowing bile to accept any help from the stoic, supercilious asshole. He’d never quite been able to forgive the way Chris had just sat back and let his sister wipe out the Hales. And when they’d killed Laura- well. Proving that the Argents had been behind the fire at the Hale place had felt something like forgiveness for that poor girl’s death, even though he’d never been able to tie up everything to his satisfaction.

He fucking hated it when the evidence didn’t completely support his gut feelings on something.

“That beer do something to you? You’re glaring at it hard enough.”

Stilinski reached out to grab the bottle, drinking the rest of the of the alcohol with a twist of his lips. “No. Just been a .... long day.”

“We’ll find this guy, Mark.” Chris scooted his chair a little closer, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes a little. “I know you must be out of your mind with worry, but ... Allison is really good at what she does. I have some of my best people--”

“That’s just it! There’s stuff to be done, and I’m just sitting here!”

Chris sat back in his chair, blinking. “What can you do? I don’t claim to know your kid very well, but I do know he’d be... it would kill him to know that you’d gotten hurt because of something he’d been caught up in.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Not trying to be ungrateful.” Bullshit. He completely was. Stilinski sighed, resting his pounding head against the cool glass bottle, rolling it a little against his forehead. “Just... feel a bit like an old bull put out to pasture, sitting here with my thumb up my ass while Derek fucking Hale takes my kid and my grandkid off into God knows where because I couldn’t keep them safe.”

“You had no way of knowing that your house was bugged.”

“I should have known!” He slammed down his bottle. He jumped up out of his chair, not caring that he knocked it over as he started pacing around the small living space. It was only about ten steps from the wall to the door, but at this point he just needed to burn off the energy. Chris let him alone while he paced back and forth like a tiger in a cage.

There was a knock on the door and Allison slipped in, her face carefully blank as she stepped around him, walking over to her dad. “It’s done. We found eight different feeds. no sound, but infared in his bedroom. We also found... something else.” The pause was off enough that Stilinski stopped, turning towards the two Argents. It was almost eerie how alike they stood. Somehow, he remembered Allison being a lot sweeter than what he saw. Now she was just as hard and cold as the other hunters he’d met.

“What?” His voice was just as harsh in his head as when he spoke. Mark couldn’t help it. He just felt... twitchy. Like something was about to happen and he was just fucking around here on the sidelines, waiting.

“How sure are you that Derek and Stiles weren’t followed?”

Chris’ eyebrow rose as he looked at his offspring, not speaking but clearly thinking very hard. Mark knew that look. That was the parental what-the-hell-are-you-doing look. He’d invented that look.

“Pretty damn sure. They didn’t even take anything with them. Not even their phones. Not even Zoe’s diaper bag. We weren’t sure if it was bugged or not. Derek and Stiles are both using drop phones, bought at two different places.” Mark was about 87% sure that Derek was taking the rental car, but had no plans on keeping it. He wouldn’t put it past Hale to steal another vehicle to be sure he wasn’t being followed. Funny. Normally he wasn’t all that keen on illegal behavior. But when it came to keeping Stiles safe, he was on board with any goddamn thing Derek wanted to do.

And that was another thing. He would have to be blind not to see how much his son still cared for Derek. It had hit him almost viscerally; overwhelmed by memories of him and Amanda when they’d been young and stupid and so in love that neither of them even realized how they’d lean towards each other unconsciously, or follow the other one with their gaze to check where they were when entering a room. Or how one would look up before the other said anything, anticipating a conversation before it started. When Mark had heard Stiles tell him why he’d left, it had been hard to hide the rage that had poured through him, boiling through his veins like fire. Oh yeah. Mark and Derek had had quite a few things to “discuss,” but before they could, that sick fuck had sent Stiles the video of all of them being stalked, and all of the shit had hit the roof.

But when it had been Derek who was able to calm Stiles down? To get him to hold Zoe again? Mark had started to think that maybe this wasn’t as one-sided as his son so adamantly believed. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted them together though. Any asshole who would hurt Stiles like that deserved the punch to the face that Mark still planned on delivering. But Derek had worked with him for two years. Mark knew him. It wasn’t hard to figure out that Derek was desperately trying to balance something he’d done in his life with working with Mark, but he’d never, ever guessed that it would have had to do with his son.

But if Stiles wanted him? Well, that was something to worry about another time.

Mark had found out about the first camera after the security company had left. They’d unearthed two others, and that was just in the living room. It had made his blood run cold. He frowned. It seemed like there should have been a way to trace the footage- or the email.. something to give them some kind of hint of who was doing this.

“Why do you ask?” He took the few steps necessary, noting absently that Chris had righted his chair.

“It’s just that... well. We think we know who it is. We can’t be sure though. But if you could text Derek and just get us a name...” Allison broke off. “Don’t use your phone though.”

Mark manfully resisted rolling his eyes at her obvious comment, choking down the ‘yeah, thanks kid’ that he was thinking from coming out of his mouth. “I’ll use another phone. What makes you think that Derek would know who he is?” His glance happened to fall on Chris’, whose lips twitched suspiciously at his daughter’s earnest advice.

Old bulls, indeed. Next, the two of them would be making whippersnapper comments.

“Oh. Just something Stiles said when I talked to him. If I’m right, then it’s the same person that we were contracted to get rid of a few years back.”

Chris frowned. “Which one?”

It was Mark’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Which one? You mean there’s enough that you have to think about... uh. Actually, nevermind. Don’t answer that.” He was big enough to ignore the identical smirks of amusement on both Chris and Allison’s face.

“The Morel Pack.”

Mark watched as Allison nodded, her face tightening. He felt the stirrings of barely-remembered panic pounding through him. No. No, that couldn’t be right. Not again. Chris had started to turn away, that name apparently enough to send him on his way. Mark’s hand whipped out to grab the other man’s wrist, before he quite realized what he was doing. When he spoke, his voice was breathy. He felt dizzy. Sick.

It was to Chris’ credit that he didn’t even seem fazed, his cool gaze flicking down to Mark’s grip on his wrist and back to his face in less than a heartbeat. “Mark.”

“The Morel Pack? That’s who.” He had to stop, sucking in breath, afraid his knees were going to collapse. He didn’t even have it in him to care that he had to look like such a weak prick in front of Chris. “Adrian Morel. Derek told me that it was Adrian Morel that almost killed Stiles.”

That had been bad enough. It had sent Mark into a panic that had kept him up for days straight, using caffeine and his own determination to stay awake to guard his son, terrified out of his mind for his safety. No one had told him exactly why Stiles had been involved in... whatever it was that had gotten him shot. But that had hardly mattered. That wasn’t what had sent Mark back to the numbness offered from the whisky, the oblivion that allowed him to pretend at functioning while his only son slowly recovered from the gunshots that had almost killed him. It took him two tries to be able to speak through the huge blockage that threatened to choke him. “Adrian Morel. It’s Adrian Morel who wants Stiles?”

He barely saw the way the two hunters nodded, memories of holding his wife’s head in his lap, feeling her blood cool as it spread around them overwhelming him for just a moment. Mark was overly conscious of the feel of Chris’ pulse under his fingers, a calming, steady thud that did nothing to calm or steady him.

When he spoke, Mark could see that they already knew. He said it anyway.

“Morel ... that was the man who murdered my wife.”

****

Zoe was worried about her daddy. She didn’t like how the place they were sleeping smelled. Even her daddy smelled funny. It made her nose itch. They had waited in this place for a really long time. Parts were okay though. There was a pool and a little playground, and they had been allowed to eat pizza. Daddy hardly ever allowed her pizza, but he’d been too sleepy to say much at what Derek ordered. Zoe really hoped that she would get to see her Grandpa again, but when she asked, her daddy had looked so sad that she just hugged him.

The other man, Derek, wasn’t much better. Her daddy had yelled at him a few times, and Derek had slammed out of the room. She didn’t like slamming doors. It was like thunder, only worse because it made her heart feel funny. Dora had been on three times before Derek came back with some clothes and a few toys.

Her daddy had made a weird sound in his throat when Derek had pulled the Princess Tiana doll out of the bag. Zoe had shrieked and grabbed it, hugging both Derek and her daddy in her happiness.

“Uh. Was that the right kind? There were ... a lot of dolls. That’s the one she likes, right? The one with the frog?”

Her daddy had sounded that way he did sometimes when she said something that made him want to laugh. “Yeah, Derek. That’s the right one, although the mental image of you in the kids aisle at Target is probably going to make me laugh for the next hundred years.”

Zoe had been very happy. She had had to leave her other doll at her Grandpa’s house. Daddy said that Grandpa wouldn’t let anything happen to it, but she still wasn’t really thrilled at the idea of not having it with her.

Daddy made a sound in the back of his throat and turned over on his side. He looked bad. Like that time Harper had been hung over. Zoe didn’t know exactly what part of her hung over what, (grown-ups talked really weird sometimes) but it had made her eyes red and her sweat smell icky, like stinky bread. Her breath had been really yucky. Daddy didn’t smell like stinky bread, but he felt hot to the touch. Zoe crawled down off of the bed, taking special care to be very quiet. Her Princess Tiana doll trailed behind her as she walked as quietly as she could.

The room her and her daddy slept in opened to another bedroom. Oh boy, had her daddy and Derek yelled about that. Zoe didn’t see what the big deal about a connecting door was. It was kind of neat. Like opening up a gate to the Secret Garden. That was one of her favorite stories that her daddy had ever read her.

She walked over to the other bed, then around to the other side when she saw Derek sprawled under the covers. She reached up to tug at the hand which had slipped off the mattress. Derek’s bed was too tall for her to get up onto. Plus, Zoe was pretty sure that her daddy wouldn’t much care for her jumping on Derek’s bed. (Although it looked especially soft and jumpable. The pillows especially.)

“Zoe?”

Zoe blinked up at Derek, who stared down at her, frowning. Harper once told her that she was too smart for her own good. Her daddy had been really mad when Harper had asked him all the questions about who her other daddy was.

“For fuck’s sake! She’s only two!”

“Yeah, well she’s the smartest ‘two’ that I’ve ever seen, Stiles. It’s obvious that whoever her father is- he’s a very powerful wolf. Only children from an Alpha are known to develop that quickly. For Christ’s sake, Stiles. She was reading! Reading! Most two-year olds are still trying to figure out how to talk at her age!”

Usually when her daddy called her his smart cookie, Zoe would be happy. But this? It had made Zoe very sad. She’d never really thought about the fact that Peter from across the street had a mommy and a daddy, and Toni from Miz Ethel’s house had two daddies. Zoe had wondered where her mommy was. Or her other daddy. If she had to pick for a mommy, she’d pick Harper. Harper was really nice. She let her come with her to work to play with the other little kids. She never yelled at her and she made really good cookies. And she didn’t make her take naps.

Zoe hated naps.

She’d never really wanted another daddy though. Why would she when her daddy was the bestest in the whole world?

“Zoe, is something wrong?” Derek’s voice was all rumbly. It was nice. It made her think of her warm fuzzy blanket at home.

“I think daddy is sick. He doesn’t smell good.” Zoe couldn’t help the way her lip trembled. She didn’t want to cry like a baby, but she really didn’t like it when her daddy was sick. Or sad. Or sickandsad. She sniffed, staring up at Derek as he swung his long legs over the edge of the bed. She felt him freeze as she flung herself at him, hugging his leg.

His hand felt nice against the back of her neck. It made her feel safe. “Let’s go see what’s the matter, okay?”

Zoe couldn’t help the little grin against the warm material of Derek’s sweatpants. Derek patted the back of her head, and just for a second she leaned into the touch.

“Let’s get you situated on the chair. You can have pillows and your own blanket, okay? Do you need annything else?”

“Can I have some juice?”

“Sure.” She followed Derek into the living area. There was a big, comphy chair turned towards the television, and Zoe squealed a little when Derek swung her up and into it, giving her one of his pillows. It smelled like Derek, and did a lot to make her not feel so scared. The blanket smelled like her daddy, and for a few minutes, Zoe curled up in complete bliss, her eyes already feeling heavy.

Derek set some apple juice on the table near her and squatted down so he could look at her face when he talked. “Listen. Your daddy is sick, but he will get better. I need you to be a good girl though and try to go back to sleep. Can you do that?”

Zoe nodded, sleepily. Her blinks were getting longer and longer. Derek curled two fingers over her temple before sliding them down over her cheek.

“You really are amazing.” Derek coughed a little. “Now good night, Zoe.”

Zoe smiled a little. She knew that already. Her daddy told her that all the time. “G’night, Derek.” She yawned and curled further into her little nest. She heard him walking back towards the bedroom.

No, she’d never really thought about having another daddy.

Not until very recently.

TBC!

Thanks to LinnetMelody for catching my typos :D