1lostone | Nowhere Man ch 10/11 (Reply)

Title: Nowhere Man
Fandom: Teen Wolf (Still regretting NOTHING!)
Words: (this chap) aprox 10k. yes, you read that right. Sorry. Fic is at 61+ with one chapter (and probably an epilogue) to go.
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.(Note possibly triggery occurrences such as assault, sex under false pretenses, etc.)
Anyway, this is dedicated to mah bb,

jlm121 because I love her. This chapter was kindly looked at by

silvarbelle and

jlm121, but all mistakes are mine!

Read on Ao3 || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7
|| Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10

Please see the bottom of the page for more notes for possibly triggery specifics on this chapter. Long chapter is Long. There is one more chapter after this and possibly an epilogue. Please see the end of this post for any trigger warnings.

Stiles blinked groggily awake to the bang of a door and the muffled panic of Zoe’s scream still hanging in the air. He struggled to his knees, only to fall over on his face as dizziness caused his stomach to clench. He was moving sluggishly towards the door to the restroom despite feeling the dark symptoms of an impending panic attack pulling at the edges of his consciousness. Stiles purposefully ducked his throbbing temple against his shoulder, moaning at the spike of pain it produced, but thankful that it sent the dizziness receding. Stiles felt the throb of his heartbeat choking him.

No. Fuck, no he wasn’t going to do this now. He bit his lip and used the sink to pull himself up to his feet. His stomach wasn’t particularly supportive of the idea but Stiles made it to the door with another lurching step, only to have it swing open, almost hitting him in the face.

Stiles wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t seeing things when his dad caught him by steadying his hands on Stiles’ forearms, keeping him from pitching backwards onto the floor again.

“Jesus Christ. You’d better fucking be okay so that I can choke you with a clear conscience.” Stiles flinched away from the tentative finger his dad used to reach out and prod the head injury. “This is getting to be a habit.”

Stiles couldn’t speak. His mind wasn’t fuzzy. He knew exactly what he’d allowed to happen. Because of his own stupidity Zoe was missing. This he couldn’t conveniently blame on Derek, or Isaac, or any of his former pack. This was all on him.

“Stiles?” His dad’s voice was gentle as he looped his arm around Stiles’ shoulders. “Come on. Say something.”

Stiles was afraid if he opened his mouth he wouldn’t stop screaming.

He could still see the smirking grin on Morel’s face. Stiles turned into the heat of his dad’s shoulder, feeling weak, but burying his face anyway. His dad’s scent- aftershave and peppermint- hit him and Stiles bit the inside of his cheek to keep the numbness back, turning away from his dad’s comfort with a jerk. He saw Isaac walking towards them and flinched again, stopping in mid-step.

“Jesus, Stiles. Derek, Boyd and Scott have gone after him. We’ll get her back, Stiles. We will.” He reached out towards Stiles head as though he couldn’t stop himself. “You always did bleed like a freaking stuck pig.”

Stiles just nodded. It was kind of weird that Isaac of all people was so concerned about him. Or maybe not, given the events of the past few days. Still, they hadn’t exactly met under the best circumstances. Yet here he was with his body firmly between Stiles and the rest of the people in the small restaurant, clearly sent to protect the two of them from any other threats.

Isaac frowned when they heard sirens. At the sound, Stiles felt his dad’s muscles tense. Isaac turned and walked quickly towards the back entrance, clearly not wanting to deal with the police. Part of Stiles wanted to dig in his heels- no wait. The police! The police could get her back!- but Stiles knew that the human law enforcement would only fuck this up more. He wanted to tell his dad not to worry- that the cops would just get in the way, but he knew that his dad still had strong prejudices on that particular subject after almost a lifetime of being told to butt out of the Pack’s business. But he couldn’t. Stiles didn’t resist when they ran through the small alley, nor did he make a complaint when he saw Isaac’s destination- the black van driven by Allison.

“We can’t get the police involved, Sheriff. Not now.” Isaac pulled Stiles’ wrist and tossed him into the back of the van without breaking a sweat.

“Not the Sheriff anymore, son. Not for a long time.” Yeah. His dad didn’t sound happy about the latest turn of events. “Stiles? Come on, Stiles, say something.”

Stiles just blinked, slumped where he’d landed. He heard the doors slam. The van lurched forward as Allison hit the gas and Stiles didn’t keep himself from tumbling down to the floor. Isaac was there in a second, tilting his head back and examining the cut on the side of his head.

Isaac whistled. “Yeah, that’s gonna definitely leave a scar. Here, I can clean up the blood at least. Erica! Hand me that kit, okay?” It didn’t occur to him to wonder why there was such a fully-stocked med kit in the back of the van. If the vehicle belonged to the Argents, then well... he was surprised that was the only medical equipment visible. Stiles felt like his limbs were made of jelly as Isaac pushed and prodded him into a sitting position, balanced with his legs crossed indian-style. Stiles didn’t particularly care, but he also didn’t keep Isaac from cleaning his head wound. Isaac mumbled something not-quite under his breath about stitches and concussions, but Stiles just let him work, closing his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to see the disgust he knew he’d see in Isaac’s gaze.

Since he’d seen Isaac again Stiles had assaulted him against a wall, and then gone and practically gift-wrapped his daughter and handed her to the psycho that had been stalking him for god knew how long. Of course Isaac would hate him. Stiles started to feel guilty about that, then winced, jerking back with a serrated sounding gasp of air. Zoe. Zoe. Oh god oh god oh god. His baby Zoe what was he going to do? What was Morel going to do?

Stiles felt his dad’s warm palms on his arms, rubbing up and down. “Stiles. Come on. Say something for me kid.”

Stiles heard them talking about shock, and Allison saying something else that jarred; her voice had gotten harder somehow since the last time they’d talked.

There was a screech of tires and Stiles felt the taste of blood bloom in his mouth as he bit his tongue. Everything tilted as his head started to slam against the metal side of the van, but before it could, Isaac’s arms shot out to help him balance again.

“Jesus, Allison!”

“I’m sorry! There’s something-- I can’t... shit!”

There was another tremendous boom of sound and the van swerved again. Stiles blinked numbly, only now realizing that the sounds he was hearing and the screech of tires were because of something rather large hitting the van. Allison slammed on the brakes and everyone was thrown forward, Isaac managing to catch both of the Stilinksis, even though his own head knocked painfully on the bar between the seats.

For a moment, the only thing Stiles heard was the ticking of the too-hot engine. Allison sucked in a deep breath and her shaky “Is everyone---” was drowned out by Erica’s screech. “That’s Boyd! And Derek!”

Stiles blinked, pushing himself up from where he sprawled on top of Isaac. He ignored the way his dad was patting him down again, frowning a little when his phone went off.

Later, Stiles would realize that it was just one of those automatic things that happen to people, a reflex that changed everything. At the time he’d been too numb to think straight, too desperate to keep the shell of ennui around his fragile emotions- terrified that if he let go for just one instant, he wouldn’t be able to stop the panic clawing at his throat like trapped prey.

Isaac handed Stiles his phone from where it had fallen out of his pocket in the lurch forward caused by Allison’s stop-on-a-dime driving. He certainly didn’t have any idea of what he’d done. Stiles took the phone, checking the little text message as one did. What he saw made his breath catch in his chest.

Unknown Caller:

--I know something you don’t know.

Stiles felt it then, the dark, pointed jabs of anger deep in his gut. He knew, absolutely knew who was texting him. Before he could respond, Stiles’ phone buzzed again in his hand.

Unknown Caller:

--Proof. Go see the present I’ve left you. It’s outside.

“He’s outside.”

Isaac and Stiles’ father’s heads whipped towards him so quickly, Stiles was almost sure he heard their vertebrae in their neck pop. Stiles didn’t recognize his own voice. He hadn’t known his vocal cords could produce a sound that absolutely wrecked.

“Stiles! What? What do you mean?”

Stiles just held up his phone, already starting to clamber over Isaac’s long legs. Stiles saw his dad’s gaze cut to it, watched his eyes narrow, but didn’t have time to worry about what seeing that was going to do to his father. In this Stiles had no defense. Morel wanted him to beg, to plead for Zoe? Stiles would bare his throat with gratitude if he knew she would be safe. Morel wanted him? He would go.

This? This way he was jumping through hoops that were already there and waiting for them? This was nothing. Morel had always been two steps ahead of them. This just seemed like a prequel to the big finale.

Stiles pulled the handle, surprised that the door opened. Whatever had hit the van (and Stiles wasn’t stupid. He had a pretty good idea of what that was) had dented the layers of steel like a punch through paper mache, but the door still slid open on its track. He didn’t expect the way his body tilted, his stomach sloshing unpleasantly with nausea as he tried to hop out of the van. Something was wrong with his sense of balance.

Of course. Concussion. Stiles shook his head sharply, frustrated with his weakness. He ignored the way Allison squawked behind him, ignored the low intensity of his dad’s voice and forced himself to jog around the back of the van.

Erica was already crouched beside Boyd, cradling his head in her lap. The sight stopped Stiles in his tracks. Even in his most miserable moments, he didn’t ever think that he could forget what they had done to him. To see them together, and Erica obviously worried out of her mind seemed so... weird. Stiles had spent so long certain that neither of them could possibly have emotions, that seeing proof positive was jarring.

Before he could look at the other bloody, broken lump Stiles jerked his gaze around, looking for Morel. He almost had to be here somewhere, right? Watching? It seemed like Morel was always watching. They were stopped in what looked like an abandoned grocery store parking lot. The van blocked the view from the side-street, but Stiles could clearly hear the muted sounds of the traffic as people cruised by, unknowing of the small drama folding out just meters from their cars.

His phone chirped at him again, and the small sound startled Stiles so much that he almost dropped it.

Unknown Caller:

--I seee you. But you won’t see me. Don’t be such a coward, Stiles. Look at the present I’ve left you. See? He’s even gift-wrapped.

(on to Part II of this chapter- sorry. LJ hates long chapters.)

CHAPTER WARNINGS:
I say this with the utmost respect. DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER IF YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED. Particulars for this chapter include: description of panic attacks, kidnapping of a child, description of an extremely shocky state, casual references to a non-con relationship, “relatively” minor violence towards a child (Of course, no violence to a child is ever minor, but in this fictional story, the character is “swatted” at by a Really Bad Guy.), canon-typical violence and gore- including gunshots and assault. Also, my bad guy seems to be a cross between a wanna-be Moriarty and every Scooby Doo villain that has ever existed. Uh. Sorry? Again, please read at your own risk.