Distortion
In hindsight, asking Cora to drive him to a mission he planned to do on his own might not have been the smartest decision. Things had simply changed since their adventure at the hospital.
Cora was now worried about him which also meant that she didn't trust him as much any more. That is to say, she trusted him without a doubt but not when it came to his safety. She was now of the opinion that his safety was only guaranteed when somebody else was involved. Favourably, he would have screamed at her or smashed something of hers.
But the guilt settled in when he only thought about acting this way.
He knew her actions came from a place of caring. She was afraid of what might happen to him.
He should not have been surprised that she told someone of his plan. However, he didn't expect that someone to be Jackson.
"Why is this so important to you? Can't you let it rest for now?" Jackson asked, his fingers tweaking his nose.
"Let it go? Are you nuts?! No, I can't let it go! They are holding the faceless man captive without telling us! That is a violation of our cooperation agreement!"
"No, it isn't. They never agreed to share information with us. In fact, there is no agreed cooperation between the pack and The Order. That only exists between them and yourself."
Stiles clenched his teeth.
So, there it was! The clear distinguishment between the pack and himself. There was them, and there was him, and in between a clear line separating them from each other.
"This is not about sides. I've lost another name, Jackson, and if that happened while the faceless man was in their custody, this might mean that they work with him. This discovery could affect us all!" Stiles argued, his temper barely held at bay.
The silence on Jackson's side was response enough. The anger swooped over him like the tide. He stood up, marched towards the beta and gave him a push.
"Fine! I don't need your permission anyway! I'm not part of the pack!"
Jackson stumbled back, more in surprise than because of Stiles' strength. He rubbed his shoulder even though Stiles was sure that there wouldn't even form a bruise for his effort. He saw red. His fist flew toward Jackson's face before he could think it over.
Thanks to his quick reflexes, Jackson caught the fist before it could make contact with his face.
"Hey! What's your problem?" Jackson asked affronted.
Stiles tried to shake off the grip of the beta, but he was unsuccessful. He couldn't even punch the guy right! Why couldn't he be the stronger one for once?
"Let go, damn it!"
Jackson appraised him. "Are you going to try to hit me again?"
Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. "Try me!" His own voice was quiet, but the voice of fury was screaming inside his head.
The grip around his fist tightened.
"Would you just listen to me for once?" Jackson seethed.
"If you had something valuable to contribute, I would," Stiles countered. "Instead, you'd have to walk around with a plant to make up for all the oxygen you're wasting whenever you talk."
Jackson inhaled sharply. His eyes were glaring, and he already opened his mouth to respond in kind, but no sound came out. His eyes scanned over Stiles' face, and he must have come to some sort of conclusion because he let go of Stiles' fist and took a few steps back.
"I think we're done here," he said and left the room.
Stiles stared at the closed door of his room. This was it? He walked to the door, intending to march after Jackson and finally punch him in the face but he heard that there were other people at the Hale House. He knew on whose side they would be. He was outnumbered.
He let out a strangled scream and punched the wall. Pain flooded through his nerve system, forcing him to clench his eyes shut. When he opened them again, tears clouded his vision.
In good faith, he had told Jackson all his theories and explained how he had drawn his conclusions. It all made sense! He had it all figured out.
And once again, no one believed him. No one was backing him up.
No one.
He was on his own once again.
He rubbed his aching knuckles, then his eyes to clear them of the moisture.
Burly, who had hidden under the bed during the argument, cautiously peeked out from his hiding spot and looked at Stiles. Probably sensing the human's distress, he wiggled out from under the bed and slowly stepped closer to Stiles.
Stiles lowered his hands which were shaking. He closed his eyes and swallowed down more tears that were threatening to spill over.
Why was he so full of anger? Even Burly was afraid of him.
He looked at the black lines on his palm and closed his eyes once more.
"It's okay," he whispered so that he would not sound threatening. "I'm just upset. It's okay. You can come closer."
Burly tilted his head to the side as he looked at him once more. Stiles kneeled and held out his hand, trying for a smile.
"I'll never hurt you, Burly. Never."
Finally, the animal came closer and rubbed his head against Stiles' leg. Exhaling in relief, Stiles grabbed the animal and hugged him to his chest.
"I'm sorry. I don't know why I've become so angry. I'm sorry. It was uncalled for. I'm sorry."
He sat down and petted the animal until he felt a bit calmer.
***
He told himself that it didn't make a difference. He had planned to confront The Order on his own from the very beginning. He didn't need the pack's approval since he was not a part of it. He was his own man who could make his own decisions.
This was for the best.
He drove himself to the cabin, not daring to ask anyone for a ride. They had told him he couldn't drive, that he was in no condition to do it. But they couldn't stop him. This was his car. He could drive it if he wanted to.
Even if his doctors thought it wasn't smart to drive with the current condition of his leg.
They all were wrong.
His stomach sunk when he arrived and saw that other cars had arrived before him. The pack was standing as a united front before the members of The Order.
Stiles almost fell out of the car in his haste to get out.
Were they trying to undermine his plan? He couldn't believe it.
He stumbled more than he ran as he made his way over to the gathering of two opposing forces.
"What's going on?" he asked Noshiko who stood before her organization with her arms crossed over her chest.
Noshiko barely spared him a glance, her eyes focused on the pack. "That's what I'd like to know as well."
Jackson stepped forward. "We're here to make a formal accusation against you. We have reason to believe that you are actively harming someone on our territory which would be a clear violation of our agreement."
Noshiko and a few of her underlings barked out a dry laugh.
"This is ridiculous," she said but waved her hand to urge Jackson to elaborate. "Let's hear that reason then."
Bewildered, Stiles turned to Jackson. He didn't understand. A day ago, they had fought about this very topic so what was he doing here now, bringing it up of his own volition?
"You've been withholding vital information from us, which is as I have to concede not a violation of our agreement since there is no clause that would demand we share intel with each other. Our own investigations, however, show that there is a high chance of a violation of the one rule that we agreed on. Would you like to confess?" Jackson waited.
Noshiko snorted. The men behind her had slowly walked closer so that they formed a threatening unit that stood between the pack and the cabin.
"We're not guilty."
Jackson sighed dramatically. "Maybe we can help your memory along. It seems to be lacking somehow. Let's go as far back as to the night the corpse and the message were discovered. Were you or were you not the first to arrive at the crime scene?"
He had walked closer and was now making slow circles in front of Noshiko as he questioned her. If this were a court, Noshiko would now look imploringly at her lawyer.
"I was the first to arrive, that is true," she answered calmly.
Jackson stopped his pacing and looked at her, his brows furrowed in concentration. "Hmm, correct me if I'm wrong, but I remember your house being on the other side of town from the crime scene. The police station is closer. It is not possible that you arrived before them. That is if you've got the call around the same time. But you didn't, did you? You didn't need to because you were already there."
Noshiko turned her head to the side as if she had found a more interesting view in the trees surrounding them. When she turned her head back to Jackson, she straightened her spine visibly.
"That is all very circumstantial. What leads you to think I was there beforehand?"
Jackson smirked as if he had only waited for the question. He held open his hand which must have prompted Lydia to step forward and hand him a plastic bag. Without taking his eyes off of the kitsune, Jackson opened the bag and pulled out a small piece of dark fabric.
Stiles stared at it just as uncomprehendingly as the rest of the Order. This was not part of his evidence list.
"Well, for one, we found this piece of fabric stuck on a rusty nail inside the house. Does this maybe evoke some memories? And don't try telling us you have no idea what this has to do with anything. This fabric carries your scent, so it was clearly part of your clothing which must have ripped as you searched the house. Am I correct?"
Noshiko clenched her jaw. "You are correct. I was inside the house. However, I don't see how that supports your accusation in any way."
She had thought at the time that she had gotten rid of all the evidence once she found a small piece of fabric on the lawn. Apparently, she was not thorough enough.
Jackson smiled in a way that said 'oh, you will soon enough'.
"Well, that depends on who else was inside the house. And let's see. There was blood found on the furniture which incidentally belongs to the man you are looking for. The amount of blood suggests that he was hiding there for some time. From what we could gather, the blood was already weeks old. However, some drops were fresh, or at least they were on the night of the crime. The same night you searched the house. Are you now honestly telling us that you didn't find him there?"
Silence. Even the forest was unusually quiet.
"I didn't."
"Lie!" Jackson accused with a shout. If there had been a table, he would have banged his hands on its surface. Instead, he pointed a finger at the accused. "Are you trying to tell us that a severely injured man relocated in the short time it took you to enter the house? Logic demands the conclusion that you must have found him."
Stiles noticed then for the first time that Malia and Kira were also present and exchanging secret gestures with each other. They had been fairly subtle until now which was why Stiles became aware of them at this moment. Malia was obviously imitating Jackson, balling her hands to fists and shaking them. He saw Kira hiding her smile behind a curtain of hair.
Just as the kids, Noshiko was not impressed by his rage. She scoffed. "This is no ordinary man we are talking about."
"And I suppose you are an ordinary organization?"
Stiles had to admit that this role suited Jackson. He was confident, smart, and unguarded. Invincible. He was in his element.
"You must admit that the evidence can be held against any of your claims. It's time for you to prove your innocence," Jackson ended his accusation.
The rest of the Order made a move as if to step in front of Noshiko or even attack the pack just when Deaton cleared his throat. Noshiko held up a hand to stop her men. They stood still.
"I'm afraid that, considering the evidence supporting the Hale pack's accusation, you are indeed obligated to provide proof to the contrary. Otherwise, the treaty is null and void," Deaton said in a calm voice.
Hook, line and sinker. They had her now. Being able to stay on Hale territory was prerogative to the Order to capture the fugitive and to train Stiles. Jackson had managed to back Noshiko into a corner. Stiles felt the insane urge to clap Jackson on the shoulder. And also to just shake him and ask him what the hell he was doing.
"Fine," Noshiko conceded. "Would it be proof enough if I allowed you to search the cabin?"
Deaton looked to Jackson who nodded. Then he sent out the betas and the two alphas in groups of two into the cabin.
Curious, Stiles followed them inside. He walked passed Jordan who watched with a frown what happened but spared a brief smile as soon as his eyes met Stiles'. Stiles couldn't return it.
The familiarity stole his breath away. He had seen that table before. Only this time there was no chessboard, no opponent sitting on the other side of him.
But there were also so many differences. The old couch was new. The floor was all wrong. It was supposed to be a darker wood.
He shook his head and walked into the next room where Isaac and Boyd were already looking through a stack of papers. The room might have been a bathroom once considering the tiles and the sink right next to the door. The metal table in the middle made it look more like an examination room.
They had probably used it to inspect the corpse. The papers Isaac and Boyd were looking through supported that theory.
Stiles was tempted to read every single paper on what they had found, but he couldn't linger here. He needed to find him, look at him face to face for the first time.
He walked up the stairs where there were several small bedrooms and one common area with two armchairs and a bookshelf. None of the bedrooms was of interest to him. The men probably used those.
A white noise seemed to come from another door. It was right behind the staircase and therefore easy to overlook. The closer he got the louder the noise became.
Scott also seemed to have noticed the door then because he unashamedly opened it and stepped inside. Stiles followed, but he had to force himself to step over the threshold.
Something in his head screamed in terror. Something was very wrong with this room.
The white noise was almost unbearable in its intensity now. Stiles massaged his temple in hopes of easing the ache a little.
"It's just a storage room," Scott announced.
There was a broom and a shelf stacked with cleaning supplies. Two garbage bins were right next to the shelf. But there was also another object in the middle of the room, as tall as both of them. They couldn't tell what it was since it was covered by a white sheet.
The noise was gone then. Instead, the room was filled with raspy breathing. It sounded like an old rusty pipe. Stiles told himself that that was all it was.
Scott looked at the hidden object, his hand automatically reaching for the sheet to pull it off.
"Wait!" Stiles found himself shouting.
But Scott had already pulled the sheet off.
"What? It's just a mirror." Scott looked at it with a grimace. "Not a pretty one, though."
The glass was encaved by a thick dark, almost black wooden frame which stood on two brass legs. Deep carvings ornated the wood.
It looked dark and imposing. Foreboding.
Scott crouched down in front of it, his nostrils flaring.
"There! Blood sprinkles. I betcha there was more blood on the mirror!" he exclaimed, sounding almost giddy.
Stiles couldn't help it. He pulled at Scott's arm to get some distance between his friend and the mirror.
"Don't touch it!"
Scott rubbed his arm. "Dude. I know that I shouldn't touch evidence. Fingerprints and all that. I'm not a noob."
Stiles rolled his aching shoulders and sighed. "Yeah, okay."
He looked at their reflections and noticed that both of them were staring. Scott was standing now, right next to him.
It was just the two of them. Back at the starting point. Just two best friends against the rest of the world.
But something had changed. Scott looked different now. Yes, he was older, but that wasn't it. His eyes were hard and cold, his mouth a grim line. He was holding himself eerily still. As if he was frozen.
"Stiles, are you coming?"
Abruptly, Stiles turned his head and saw that Scott was already in the hallway, holding the door like he was about to close it. Stiles turned back to the mirror and noticed that it showed him the same scene.
How had he not noticed him walk away? His reflection had stood perfectly still, not making a single move.
A shudder ran through his body. He couldn't get out of this room quick enough.
They met the rest of the pack downstairs in the big common area. All of them were wearing various expressions of dismay and disappointment.
"Nothing," Lea said through clenched teeth and kicked a chair. "We found nothing!"
No, it couldn't be.
"That's impossible," Stiles mumbled to himself.
"I told you he wasn't here. Do you really think the problem wouldn't already be solved if we had him in our custody?"
Noshiko was standing in the entrance of the cabin, her brows raised at the dejected air surrounding them.
"Well, we found these," Jackson said, holding up the papers, detailing a very thorough report on the corpse found at the crime scene. "You've been examining the corpse found at the crime scene here. I hope you didn't just bury him in your backyard."
"It was necessary for our investigation," Noshiko defended herself. "And no, we put him back in his proper grave once we were done."
"You said 'put him back'", Stiles realized.
"Yes. That's what I said just a second ago." She scoffed at him.
"No. You phrased it that way because you were the ones who took him out of his grave in the first place. As you said, it was necessary for your investigation to examine him. He's the only clue to the man you had. So you took him from the grave and made it look like the man did it. That way, an investigation would be opened and you could examine the corpse legally - forged papers taken aside. Additionally, you made me aware of the danger, which made it all the easier to step in and be the saviour."
Stiles narrowed his eyes at her as he realized that he had been played from the start.
"Smart," Noshiko commented. "Sometimes the results justify the means."
"But the man must be here," Scott said, frowning. "We found a mirror with his blood on it."
"And what about the code this one," Jackson pointed at the bald guy. "has been using. Something about 'the last harvest not being as bountiful as expected' and the reward he was going to earn? That sounds to me like you've been torturing a guy for information."
Noshiko rubbed the bridge of her nose between her fingers and sighed.
"Oh, Elmar, not again."
The bald guy, Elmar, looked to the ground and shrugged. "I'm sorry, boss. I've hit a rough patch again."
Noshiko nodded. "You see, Elma has a rough past with drugs. I was unaware that he was growing weed again." She turned towards Elmar, a strict expression on her face. "You've been staying off the hard drugs, haven't you?"
What? Drugs? Stiles' face burned in embarrassment almost as fiercely as Elmar's.
"Yes, ma'am."
Noshiko sighed again and shook her head. "We'll have a more detailed discussion later. I expect you to fill me in about all of your secret pastimes."
The man nodded, looking thoroughly chastised.
"So there was no code," Stiles summarized meekly. "He was literally talking about weed."
"It appears so," Noshiko confirmed. "You should have come to me about your suspicions. I would have been able to reassure you."
Oh. She believed he had told the pack about his suspicions and they had built their case on them.
"What about the mirror?" Scott said, still not convinced.
"That was all we found when we searched the house. He was gone. All that remained of him was the blood on the mirror so we brought it back with us."
But then, where was he? Where was the faceless man? He couldn't have gotten far, as injured as he was? And why was Stiles so sure he had seen elements of this cabin in the In-Between?
Nothing made sense anymore.
He hung his head.
All those nights wasted reading pointless conversations. He had wasted so much time.
All for nothing.
"As you can see, your accusation was unfounded," Noshiko said, her arms spread out to encompass the cabin. "You might find it wise not to throw such serious accusations around. You never know if there won't be some sort of retribution."
Jackson clenched his jaw. "You might find it wise not to nurture ambiguous theories concerning your Order. It could lead to pointless wars and unjustified losses on both sides."
Derek clapped Jackson briefly on the shoulder. "It was within our rights to make a formal accusation considering the evidence against you. At least, now the air has been cleared."
Noshiko's lips formed into a thin smile. "You are so right, Mr Hale. It's always better to get such things off of one's chest. Rest assured that our agreement will not suffer because of it. All that was wounded was merely our pride. Maybe one day we find a reason to return the courtesy."
Derek's brows drew together in a frown but he nodded. "We have nothing to hide."
Stiles didn't need to have their super-hearing to recognize the lie for what it was. They had a lot to hide. That they were actively looking for the Nemeton was one of those things. And he had put it all in jeopardy. He closed his eyes and bit his tongue to hold back the scream.
The Hale pack was unceremoniously escorted out of the cabin. They retreated, humiliated and apprehensive of the consequences. Stiles expected Jackson to walk up to him and punch him in the face. He would deserve it, after all.
But Jackson didn't punch him. He just clapped Stiles on the back as he walked past him. It was an almost companionable gesture.
Nothing made sense anymore.
Stiles managed to stop him before he got into his Porsche.
"Why did you do all this? Why didn't you just let me make the accusation? You could have left the pack out of it. Why risk it?" he asked, not understanding anything anymore. He was desperate to get some answers. Anything that would bring about some revelations.
Jackson turned to him, surprised, and closed the car door again.
"You do realize that you've already fallen from their grace, right? They are only waiting for you to make a mistake. That you finally expose how rotten they think you've become. It would have justified any and all measures they see fit to contain you."
Jackson said all this with some incredulity in his voice. As if he couldn't believe how Stiles hadn't realized something so obvious.
Stiles waved his hand around impatiently. "I know that! What I don't understand is why you suddenly risked everything just because of one of my hunches? You never thought them worth it before. The old you would have let me take the fall. And enjoyed it."
Jackson gave him a little self-deprecating smile. "Even at my worst, I never wanted you to get hurt. Just peg you down a notch. As childish as it was. I get it now. That taking you down wouldn't make me look any better. I guess I grew up a bit."
Stiles was floored. He looked Jackson up and down, searching for a sign that this might be an imposter. This could hardly be the guy he had tried to punch only one day ago.
"You didn't even believe me when I first told you about it!" Stiles argued.
It was such a different setting back then. In a kitchen, surrounded by the smell of freshly cooked bacon and eggs. It had all felt so domestic. Like they did this all the time. Exchanging wild theories over breakfast.
"I believed you. That's why I send Boyd to investigate. How do you think we got the piece of fabric?"
"You tried to stop me yesterday!"
"I tried to stop you from running into the blade!" Jackson's voice rose. "I couldn't let your impulsivity endanger your own life. You're so obsessed, you never stop to think about your own safety anymore! You've always been the planner with the calculated moves, but lately you just always rush headfirst into danger. What the hell happened to you?!"
"But you risked everything!" Stiles didn't mean to shout so he lowered his voice again. "They threatened you. And you did it for what? For someone who's not even pack."
Jackson exhaled loudly but just looked at him. Stiles returned the look, trying to find cues in the others face that would help him understand. For a moment, they just stared at each other.
"You still don't get it," Jackson realized. He shook his head. "We will always risk everything for one of us. That's what it is all about. I realized it rather late. But still sooner than you, it seems."
Then he got in his car and drove away.