Unfinished
It was like having a second shadow. She moved when he did, but otherwise, she kept quiet and blended in with the environment as if all the life had drained out of her. She had lost her colour and was now just contours drawn in jagged lines. Her lines were so raw that he sometimes wondered if they were ingrained on the background.
Maybe it was naïve of him to think that Malia had already had her realisation of mortality since this was hardly the first time that someone in her family had walked the fine line between life and death. Tragedy was practically encoded into her DNA at this point.
She didn’t talk to him about what she felt, but her gaze was determinedly fixed upon him, steadily keeping watch. He wished she would just scream and rage at him than look at him with eyes with steel behind them, not befitting of a girl her age.
He also noticed that she kept closer contact with Burly than she did with him. She must have felt that a part of him would always be with the animal and so had come to the conclusion that she had to keep that part of him which was packaged in such a fragile creature safe as well, if not safer than the rest of him. Maybe he was the only part of him that she could reconcile with after what he had put her through again.
“Sometimes, I can see the world from Burly’s perspective,” he said, conversationally. “It takes a lot of effort to connect on that deep a level but it’s possible.”
She kept quiet, her eyes following the movement of the fox meticulously.
"I know it may seem that he is a weakness, but in fact, it's the opposite. He gives me strength. When I feel like I'm close to losing myself to the darkness, he's always there to ground me." He stopped and gave her a long look. "That's why I appreciate it that you take care of him for me."
She gave a sharp nod, then they continued their walk in silence. They both watched the fox with rapt attention. For a moment, Stiles could almost pretend that everything was normal. Only for a moment.
***
He scrubbed with all his might, declaring war on the dirty crust that was intent on sticking to the plate. His hands were getting wrinkly from the soap water but he didn't mind. It felt good to do something with his hands.
The eyes watching his back were piercing through his skin, through bone and muscle tissue straight to the part of him that was soft and vulnerable.
A sigh echoed through the kitchen. It was the noise of a house of cards falling apart.
Stiles almost wanted his father to ask again if only to break this silence.
But since they both knew that his answer would stay the same, the sheriff didn't even try.
After a while, his dad got up from the chair and walked slowly over the sink, grabbing a towel. He started drying the plates with practised movements. This was how it had always been. Their perfect order of the way things were.
"You should know that you can't exactly stop people from caring about you. That's not your choice. However, it is your choice how you act around them. It's a responsibility that comes with human connection, whether we acknowledge it as such or not." His dad's voice was quiet and heavy.
He continued the rest of his work in silence. To Stiles, it seemed that the people around him had finally learned how to use silence as a weapon.
***
One lone spark was floating towards him in shaky movements. It hovered above his face, its light casting a faint glow. He could almost feel the warmth.
Stiles reached out with his senses and tried to feel the connection to the spark. His eyes were closed and everything was dark, but the light from the spark remained. As soon as he detected it, he reached out with a hand and caught it in his fist.
"Good," Noshiko praised. "It's easier to find a spark that's connected so intrinsically with you, but it's the first step. Now, you'll have to find Derek by looking for his spark, the essence that makes him a werewolf. It should feel different from your own. The hard part is that his spark is not a separate being but is interwoven with everything he is. Try to get a grasp on it."
Stiles, with his eyes closed, reached out again. For him, reaching out meant widening his conscience. He needed to be aware of his surroundings. He felt the wind move through the leaves in the trees, heard the grass sigh with the slight movement. His hand rested on the ground to gain an easier connection.
Everything was alive around him and he felt it. Ants, bugs and worms on the ground and in the soil, bees buzzing softly around the flowers, birds letting themselves be carried by the wind. All the life around him pulsed with a soft glow. Life radiates energy.
He sent out the spark to further his reach. It acted as a sensor for him.
The spark as a being of pure energy was automatically drawn to everything alive. It detected all the life forms around him.
Every life had its own imprint. It took Stiles ages to distinguish them from each other. For some species, it was easier. Ants were hard to detect as individuals because of their status as superorganisms, allowing them to function as a perfect unity. Maybe one day he would manage it.
Supernatural beings, however, were different from the rest. While every life form had its own glow in the energy field, supernatural beings shone so brightly it was blinding. One would think that the brightness would make them easier to detect, but instead, it was the other way around. It felt like looking directly into the sun and having only black spots fill your vision.
He knew then that one spark would not do. He sent out to others to scan the area, Burly on his own mission to detect the supernatural spark in Derek.
It felt like hours to him. Being aware of all tiny sparks surrounding him, shining through the darkness like stars, opened his eyes to the vastness of the forest. It might have been small in comparison to the whole world, but to him, at this moment, it felt like its very own galaxy. He could get lost in everything there was to explore. Therein lay the danger. The more he understood, the deeper he got sucked into this immense world of mysteries and possibilities.
When he finally found him, it was clear to him that this particular spark could only be part of Derek. It felt like him. Like walking on wet grass on a summer morning. Like standing on top of a mountain and overlooking the world, feeling small and inconsequential but also part of something bigger than yourself. His presence was soothing and exhilarating at once.
Right next to Derek, there was the presence of a cool pond glittering in the sunlight. Inviting. Tempting. Unexplored depth, unknown nooks and curious motions. He represented everything a wanderer might be looking for. If only Stiles weren't so apprehensive of water these days...
"I found him." Stiles hesitated briefly before adding, "Them."
Noshiko looked up from the book she was reading, her raised eyebrows the only sign of surprise Stiles could detect. "That was faster than I expected. Supernatural beings are normally tricky to detect."
And that was why Stiles had only become aware of Jordan after he had found Derek.
"I wonder if there is a reason for that," Noshiko said. "He did once enter your mind, as I understand it. Maybe that explains your strange bond. After all, what else could it be?"
Stiles looked away and swallowed.
Derek and Jordan soon joined them, both sweaty from their rigorous training session. They were walking a little closer now, their shoulders turned slightly towards each other. It appeared as if they had been in conversation on their way to the cabin. Stiles could not remember when the ice between them had been broken. Their friendship was just a sprout, but with enough nurturing on both sides, he could already see its potential for growth.
It might be good for Derek, Stiles thought, to have friends closer to his age. Though, considering that Jordan was already in his third life, maybe they were only at the same mental stage.
Jordan laughed at something Derek must have said or communicated with his eyebrows and gave the werewolf a playful shove.
"This guy managed to beat me today," he announced once they were in earshot of Stiles the only human present. "Granted, he cheated, but I'm still proud as his teacher. I should have expected nothing less from a child of darkness."
"Don't call me that." Derek rolled his eyes at the other's antics.
"It's not every day that a child of Veles beats a Phoenix considering that they are protectors of Perun's children. The never-ending fight between the dark and the light seldom ends in the dark's favour." Noshiko didn't sound pleased at the result of their fight. She measured Jordan with a calculating look who ducked his head a fraction, a gesture almost imperceptible.
"What does it matter which deity apparently fathered us? Humans are all supposed to be God's children and they still fight each other and have tendencies for both good and evil. Legacies mean nothing if we don't decide to follow them," Derek said, his brows slightly furrowed. He had shown a dislike to being called "child of Veles" or "child of darkness", but this was the first time that he voiced his opinion. Something about what Noshiko had said must have bothered him.
Noshiko looked at him as if he was a child asking why the sky was blue. She held her head high even though Derek clearly towered over her.
"It matters when it comes to our very essence. We children of Perun carry the light in us, the life and the earth while you carry the dark, the silence, the cold. You see, day and night are both opposites who make a whole together and while they may coexist peacefully, they can never truly be together." She sniffed slightly as if the unpleasing truth was tickling her nose.
Derek tensed, his hands clenching to fists. She must have hit a vulnerable spot.
"Then what is dawn or dusk but day and night melting together for a short time?" Jordan shrugged at his own philosophical comment, obviously feeling foolish for it. "I mean, who makes these rules? Who's to say who should mix and who shouldn't?"
Derek quickly gazed at him, his stance relaxing slightly. The fists unclenched and his straightened spine slouched a fraction.
"Let's not forget that both children of Veles and of Perun are supposedly born from the sun. So they all carry a light within them. It's reflected in their sparks. I saw it," Stiles added. It felt like they were fighting a war right now, one that had been raging along but so silent and unnoticeable that he only realized it now.
While Noshiko's expression soured, Jordan visibly unfolded. His mouth turned up in a smile, his eyes sparkling like the pond Stiles had envisioned. One corner of his mouth revealed two dimples which the other clearly lacked. He put one hand on Stiles' shoulder, squeezed it for a moment and let it rest there. Stiles could feel the warmth from his palm through his hoodie. But it was not as burning as Derek's gaze which barely grazed that spot and still left his whole being on fire.
It was like Jordan's touch had left an imprint on his shoulder which both Derek and Stiles were aware of but refused to acknowledge out loud. The ride back to the Hale House was therefore quiet. Stiles felt all the thoughts Derek wouldn't say fill the car cabin until it was hard to breathe. He chanced a glance at the other man, noticing how his fingers were wrapped tightly around the steering wheel and how his eyes were firmly on the road.
They entered the house in silence. The others didn't seem to take much notice of that since Stiles had been the quietest they had ever known him to be after the last incident. There were dangerous glass splinters scattered all around the house and they all tiptoed around them, never making too much sound as if the slightest noise could cause something else to break. The task now was to prevent more splinters from covering the floor.
When there was no longer any room to avoid Derek, Stiles stood in front of the mattress Derek had laid out right next to his own bed, not knowing whether he should say something before getting in. But then he realized that there wasn't a blanket to dive under so the point was moot.
"You can have mine," Derek said as he came to the same realization. "I don't need it anyway. Werewolves run warm." He took the blanket and threw it on Stiles' mattress, then he lay down on his own bed, looking unfathomably smaller for some reason without the cover of a blanket.
The problem could be easily solved by one of them walking downstairs to get a blanket from a cupboard in one of the guestrooms. Since those were occupied, however, none of them felt particularly inclined to do so.
Stiles sat down on the mattress, kneading the fabric of the blanket with his fingers. "You shouldn't put too much value in these old legends. It's obviously just old wives' tales. Carry the cold. I've shared a bed with Scott before, he's like a heater. She couldn't be more wrong."
Derek, who had been lying sideways with his back turned to Stiles, then moved to face him. His arms were crossed in front of his chest as if he was guarding something. His face was nestled into the pillow, one eye squished shut because of it. Something about this touched Stiles, causing him to reach out. His hand came to rest tentatively on one forearm.
"It's often thought of as a curse, one that turns you into a monster." Stiles flinched slightly, remembering how Scott had handled his first transformation. They had been so insistent on finding a cure. As if it was a sickness. Only now did Stiles understand how that must have seemed to Derek. "But we were born that way. I saw children growing up this way and I never thought of them as cursed or rotten. A newborn surely couldn't be cursed. A newborn surely couldn't be a monster."
"And it isn't," Stiles insisted. He moved slightly closer, now lying down beside him. "You aren't. None of you are. You're one of the best people I know."
Realizing how that sounded, he added, "You Hales I mean. The betas still need some work but they're getting better, I guess."
Sometime during the conversation, they had both moved closer toward each other, barely aware that they were more whispering than talking. Derek's arms were uncrossed now, one had somehow managed to sneak underneath Stiles' neck, supporting his head. The other had found its way to the nook where his neck met his jaw.
Their proximity made Stiles fear that his erratic heartbeat must be deafening to Derek. The other's breath ghosting over his face caused him to shiver in anticipation. The air around them seemed to be electrified, a current that was urging him to get closer, to find out if his memory of how these lips would feel moving against his own still served correct.
Derek's eyes were hooded as they remained focused on his lips. One thumb was stroking the corner of his mouth, not really daring to cross the remaining distance.
"Can I kiss you?"
The question caused the short circuit, frying the wires to his rational thoughts. His nod almost knocked his head against Derek's in its enthusiasm.
Derek exhaled in relief and surged forward, but his mouth did not meet the target Stiles had intended. Instead, it fell on his cheek, from which it travelled across his chin to the other one, staying there reverently for a moment.
Stiles was now lying on his back, with Derek hovering above him, his knees resting on either side of his hip. His hands were fisted in Derek's shirt and in his hair, not yet sure if they meant to keep him close or just to reassure that he had some measure of control and could push him away if he wanted.
And he wanted him closer. As close as he could possibly be. He longed for the moment when their breath would mingle, almost tried to subtly nudge Derek's head in the right direction. His breath hitched when he grazed the corner of his mouth. But to his ire, Derek's lips landed on the tip of his nose instead.
His brows furrowed which caused Derek to chuckle.
"Okay," the werewolf conceded, but not before placing one last lingering kiss on the side of his nose. "I guess it really is inevitable. I really shouldn't fight it."
The words were said in a teasing manner, yet as Stiles recognized them as such, they caused the blood to freeze in his veins. He tensed, his hands leaving their spots in Derek's hair, pressing now into the mattress. He wished the words had never been said.
Inevitable. Never had the word felt so heavy as it did now. Not when he was sitting an exam, or when he had to get a thrombosis injection for his broken leg.
Knowing what he knows, the word sounds ominous. Vile.
He remembered his dad talking about responsibility. He agreed that he was responsible for how he behaved around people caring about him. However, his dad was wrong about one crucial detail.
"Wait!"
Derek, to his credit, immediately paused, eyeing him curiously. He seemed perplexed at the request but not at all furious or disappointed. He moved a fraction so that they were at a respectable distance to have a conversation.
"If we do this, we can't go back!"
Derek's brows furrowed. "Yes, we can. If we want to, that is."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Because that has worked out so well for us in the past!"
Derek flinched and his mouth tightened. He rolled to the side, creating more distance between them.
"You don't trust me," he realized. "In this."
Stiles could almost see the understanding settling into Derek's expression. It became perfectly blank except for the eyes which were looking everywhere but at him. His eyes had clouded over in defeat.
Stiles let his head fall into his hands which immediately gripped the strands tightly as if he could force his mind to work more efficiently this way.
"It's not that. I just don't think I have... any more capacity for this right now. I can't have another thing to worry about." He saw how Derek practically crawled back into his shell, so he hastened to add, "I don't think it would be fair to either of us right now. It feels like this choice right now is not entirely up to us."
He tried to stay as close to the truth as he could but all it managed to accomplish was to deepen the furrow in between Derek's brows.
"I do know my own mind, Stiles," Derek argued, his voice hard as steel. "Don't tell me I'm confused. You can't tell me what I think or feel."
"Good for you," he shot back, grimacing from the spiteful tone of his voice. "But I don't know mine! I don't know my mind right now, Derek! I'm not even sure if I'm entirely me anymore. I've lost so much of it - I'm not as.... there's just something missing now. It was taken from me. So yeah, I don't think this situation is ideal for either of us to make a choice about this."
Derek's eyes widened imperceptibly, his jaw working as if he wanted to respond. But then, he just nodded.
"Okay. You're right. I'm sorry. I see your point."
Tentatively, Stiles crossed the distance between them until they were sitting next to each other. He let his head drop against Derek's shoulder, pressing his cheek to the warmth of his neck. Derek responded by wrapping an arm around him, keeping him close. Slowly, they sank back into the pillows staying in the exact same position.
"I'm here. In whatever capacity you want me to be," Derek said with his face buried in Stiles' hair.
Stiles swallowed heavily.
I know, he wanted to say. I just don't know if that is your choice or mine.
Even as he was about to fall asleep he could hear Noshiko speculating.
Strange bond, she called it. And strange it was. Because Stiles was pretty sure he had created it but he had no idea what the consequences were and how much say Derek had in them.
It might be inevitable that they were pulled together again and again but it was still them who could set the boundaries. And sometimes you had to leave something unfinished to preserve it.