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The first time Stiles saw Malia in her human form, she was clutching Scott's jacket around her and seemed completely at ease treading over the rough forest ground with bare feet.
In the end no one had thought to bring spare clothes on their little mission, which really spoke volumes about how worn out they'd all felt — or maybe just to the level of success they'd come to expect. Allison and Isaac had been nowhere in sight when Stiles and Lydia got back to the cars but it hadn't taken them long to show up, Allison still clutching the tranq gun close to her body with white knuckles.
Her other arm was hooked under Isaac's shoulder, supporting him as he balanced unsteadily on one blood-covered leg — Stiles and Lydia exchanged a glance, following the image to its obvious conclusion.
Lydia pressed her lips together in a small, grateful smile in his direction and looked away quickly, hugging her arms tighter to herself; Stiles tried vainly to think of something comforting to tell her, but could only stare at the slowly healing skin of Isaac's calf and manage a muttered, "Show-off."
It got something a little more genuine out of Lydia at least, as she went to help Allison. Stiles definitely didn't miss the hard look Isaac shot his way (whatever, okay, they'd just narrowly avoided a traumatic and literally life-changing injury, while Isaac could shake it off and be back in action by tomorrow. He could suck it) but he did ignore it — not out of any fear of retaliation, but thanks to movement from behind them. As the three of them stumbled by, Stiles dodged around them to see better, eyes squinting at the far distance.
Allison picked up on his redirected attention and hefted Isaac's arm over Lydia's shoulders so they could continue without her, already fumbling with her rifle, but her fingers stilled as soon as she registered the sight of two figures making their way slowly in the group's direction. They were travelling slowly, cautiously; Scott was careful not to move too far too fast, obviously a major contributor to the continued uprightness of the slight girl beside him.
They watched as Scott stepped carefully down a bank, sliding a little over the dead leaves but making sure his feet were stable before reaching back to help an unsteady Malia over — or at least that's who Stiles assumed she was, unless there was more than one semi-nude girl wandering around the forest, which... well...
Allison moved past him, ostensibly to help Scott though she still held the gun in a tight grip. Stiles started to move as well but rethought the decision even before he took a step, turning just as Lydia unhooked herself from Isaac to brace him against Allison's car, and going for his jeep. He clambered up onto the back seat, reached into the trunk and hauled out a discoloured picnic blanket, slithering out to shake the buildup of years of crumbs and miscellaneous dust onto the ground.
It would do until someone brought something with a little more cover, though he wouldn't be surprised if Scott ripped his pants off right there and offered them to her.
Stiles followed Allison on the path to intercept them and broke into a gentle jog as he realised all three of them had stopped moving. Malia was clutching the sleeves of Scott's slightly oversized jacket tightly, not moving away from the approaching Allison but visibly not happy about it either. Too far away to hear what they were saying, he could only see Allison raise both hands — and the gun — in deference, and he slowed and caught up to her just as she lowered it to the ground and released it. She was slow and completely apologetic about it, dropping it cautiously to the ground and taking a full step backwards, but the damage was done.
Malia was splitting her focus between the two newcomers with all the alertness of an animal in the wild, which for all intents and purposes, Stiles supposed, she was. Had been for the last eight years. He had no idea how the mind worked during the full shift, no idea how much of her humanity she retained after all this time, whether she even still thought like a human being.
Allison kept her hands visible and her smile sure and reassuring, obviously trying to placate the girl and stave off the potential flight risk she posed, but Malia's attention had clearly been monopolised by the firearm still within Allison's easy reach and her fingers were fluttering wildly against the cuffs of the jacket, tugging it probably further up her body than she should have.
Stiles conspicuously averted his eyes, letting Scott take the lead once more with his earnest expression and calming voice.
"It's okay," Scott promised, his voice soothing. "She's not gonna hurt you, I promise. We just want to help, it's okay."
Stiles raised his arm to exaggeratedly scratch at the nape of his neck, glancing towards Allison as he awkwardly waited for Scott to readjust the jacket and retain some of the girl's dignity. The motion drew his attention back to the folded blanket he was holding.
"Oh — here..." He grappled with it and finally held it out to her, nonverbally asking to approach.
Malia watched him step forward, eyes wide and wary, but she let him move in close and drape the rough material over her shoulders. She wrapped slender fingers over the hem and drew it closer, gaze never leaving his. Her hand brushed his as she gripped it tightly and he looked down, then back up, taken aback by the intensity of her scrutiny.
Scott sent him a grin to let him know he did good, and Malia an encouraging smile when she finally glanced his way.
"Great. Okay," Stiles exhaled sharply in relief and took a step away to let them continue. Scott looked to Malia for permission but she was watching Stiles like he was the wild animal, with her mouth partially open as though she wanted to say something but had forgotten how.
Scott touched her elbow, drawing her attention away, and she allowed herself to be led up to the road.
She glanced back only once to where Stiles remained standing beside Allison, holding Stiles's gaze like it was magnetised to her.
Malia broke it first, ducking her head back down into the folds of the blanket.
Allison moved, bending down to retrieve her weapon and brushing dirt off it. Stiles waited for her to finish before starting back, slower than the others, allowing time for Scott to settle Malia in the back seat of the jeep, the door wide open in case she rethought the idea of freedom. It didn't seem like she would, at least. Overwhelmed she definitely was, but frightened — other than the one brief and understandable moment — she didn't appear to be.
Stiles pulled out his phone and flipped through the contacts for a well-used number, giving Allison a small but triumphant smile that she only slightly hesitantly returned. He didn't waste a second to launch into the news as the call connected.
"Hey, Dad? You might wanna call off the manhunt..."