Archive of Our Own

“Well, you don’t look like you’re on the run.”

It’s the first thing that comes out of Malia’s mouth, and Cora lets out a snort. “Seriously, Malia? Do you even watch the news?”

For a matter of fact, she doesn’t. Between trying to protect famous celebrities or rich CEOs, she barely finds time to do things she wants to do. Like, lie in bed in her underwear all day and watch Netflix while eating leftover chinese food.

Turning away from her cousin, Malia glances towards the girl sitting in front of them. She’s tiny, with long black hair that literally shinesand Malia can’t help but wonder what shampoo she uses. And just looking at her at first glance, she doesn’t really look like a criminal or someone who would be on the run, she’s way too baby-faced for that. But as Malia stares into her, she knows there’s definitely more than what meets the eye with her. “So, what are you on the run for?” She finally asks.

Kira opens her mouth to answer, but Cora’s quicker. “She’s a hacker. Better known under her alias, The Vixen. She’s leaked some petty information out into the public a few times, mostly info on college rape cases that bring the rapists to light, or intel on government officials that are cheating the country. You know, social justice warrior type thing.”

Malia furrows her eyebrows. “You’re on the run because you do good things?”

Cora snorts again. She obviously knows something Malia doesn’t, but instead of saying anything this time, she lets Kira speak.

“Not exactly,” she finally says, fiddling with her thumbs. “I was framed. Someone used my aliasto steal large amounts of money from people’s bank accounts all over the state and then kill them afterwards. Brutally. And...I know who.”

“Who?” Cora asks.

Kira looks reluctant to say. “He’s known as The Nogitsune,” she reveals slowly. “He’s a hacker too.”

Malia scoffs. “The Nogitsune? What kind of name is that?”

“It’s the name of an evil trickster fox in Japanese mythology. Basically, someone who does bad things for their own benefit,” Kira explains, and then clearing her throat, “And I want to take him down and clear my name.”

“And how do you exactly plan on doing that?” Cora questions, arms crossed against her chest.

“I managed to track down his IP address. He’s in San Francisco and I want to go there so I can hack into his own personal computer and collect evidence that I can use to show I’m innocent. But, I can’t exactly just book a flight and go down there since I’m pretty sure I’ll be arrested as soon as I step inside an airport. And it’s not like I have any cash to rent a car either, but even if I did, it would be pretty dangerous driving all the way down there by myself so—”

“You need a bodyguard,” Malia finishes, watching Kira nod slowly.

“Of course she needs a bodyguard, that’s why she came here in the first place,” Cora huffs.

“My friend referred me here. She said you guys are the best in the business,” Kira adds, and Malia knows she’s not trying to flatter.

Hale Pack Bodyguard Services is the best in the business, and Talia spends a good amount of her time making sure it stays that way. Malia barely joined a year ago after dropping out of college because she realized that spending two hours in a lecture hall every class period isn’t really how she wants to spend the next four years of her life. So, when her aunt offered her the job with pay, she took it without a second hesitation. It’s not like she has anything better planned out, since she dropped out of college dead broke.

“Does Talia have a clause in her contract against helping wanted criminals?” She suddenly asks, glancing over at her cousin.

Cora frowns. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Good, because I think I’ll take the job then.” Malia smiles and then looks over at Kira, who looked like she was getting more and more nervous with each passing second, but as soon as she hears Malia’s words, the dark haired girl breaks out into a relieved smile. It makes her smile even more.

Cora shrugs and stands up. “Whatever. I’ll go get the paperwork.” She glances at Kira before leaving, “Looks like you got yourself a bodyguard, kid.”

**

“It’s at least a fifteen hour drive to San Francisco,” Derek says, as if Malia doesn’t already know that. “Do you think Bluebell can handle?”

She scoffs at him, moving her dirty blonde hair out of her face as she tosses a backpack filled with a few days of her clothes into the backseat of her baby blue Mustang. “Bluebell can handle anything, Der.”

Derek frowns at the use of the nickname that all the Hale ladies have given him and Malia just grins, jumping into the driver’s seat of her car. But when she see that familiar serious expression on his face that shows that he’s actually worried, the smile on Malia’s lips softens to a reassuring look. “I’ll be fine, Derek. Seriously,” she tells him.

“I know, but just…”

“Don’t drive drunk? Don’t get arrested? Don’t kill anyone?” She rolls her eyes at him, but Derek keeps a straight face.

“Be careful.”

It’s all he says and it’s all she gets to hear him say, because then Kira walks out of the building and gets into the car, while Derek steps back and walks away without another word.

**

They leave behind the quiet and peaceful Beacon Hills county and drive on the dusty stretch of a highway heading south bound, while the hot humid summer air blows against their faces and through their hair. Malia drives with one hand on the wheel, her other hand tinkering with the radio system until she settles on a song that isn’t too obnoxious or sounds like one of the boy bands Cora secretly listens to.

“One of our safe houses is along the way, we can probably stop there for the night,” She tells Kira, the place she’s referring to being a loft Derek owns about ninety miles out of Beacon Hills county, in Woodland. It isn’t the only safe house the agency has, in fact, the whole state is scattered with safe houses that they use to stow away clients who really need to go into hiding for a while.

Kira doesn’t say anything, but Malia sees her nod from her peripheral vision before returning her gaze out the window, watching the scenery pass her by—mostly brown rolling hills, farmland, and lots of wide open space that seems to stretch to the end of the horizon. And even though her gaze is out the window, Malia can tell that she’s nervous from the way her fingertips keep tapping on the window in some anxiety-driven rhythm

She reeks of anxiety, and it’s starting to bother Malia a little, especially since this was her plan after all. Kira’s the one that suggested going down to San Francisco after this Nogitsune hacker dude, and the only reason Malia even agreed to being Kira’s bodyguard was because she lived for this kind of excitement—the adrenaline, the spontaneity, the unpredictability of a situation. And she isn’t going to let Kira ruin that by being nervous.

“Stop that,” she finally complains.

Kira turns towards her and blinks twice. “Stop what?”

“Being so nervous,” Malia tells her. “This was your plan after all. Why are you so afraid?”

“I’m...not afraid,” Kira answers slowly, as if doubting her own answer.

Malia snorts, not believing her. “Are you sure about that? Because it doesn’t seem like it.”

Kira doesn’t answer her question, but she does ask her own. “Malia, have you ever felt lost in life? Like...you don’t know what to do anymore? Like, all hope is just lost?”

The question takes her off guard because she wasn’t expecting that. But it makes her think. It takes her back to the locked memories inside her head that she told herself she'd never think about again, but that’s just a promise ready to be broken. Her mind flashes back to the newspaper clippings she keeps in an old worn out jewelry box that supposedly once belong to her birth mother before. A jewelry box that smells too much like jasmine that irritates Malia’s nose and probably once held earrings and necklaces and other pieces of jewelry, but she’s never used it for that purpose before, because she doesn’t even wear jewelry in the first place.

But that’s not the point.

The point is that there’s one particular newspaper clipping in that box that she wishes she can unsee, because maybe then things would be different now.

“I have,” she finally says slowly, and maybe Kira’s eyes widen at her. “But just because I’ve been through hell and back and lost everything doesn’t mean I won’t start over. You can do that too, you know.”

“My mother’s dead.” The words leave Kira’s mouth dry and emotionless, as if she’s accepted that part, but the next line comes out of her choked. “And it’s all because of me.”

Malia has never been the type to comfort people, that’s always Laura’s job or Talia’s. Laura takes on the obnoxious soccer coach of an elementary school team persona who always calls everyone a bunch of pussies while Talia is much more soothing, calming, but rational. Malia doesn’t do any of that, hell, if someone came to her with a problem, she’d probably just say okay, so what the hell do you want me to do about it?

She already has enough of her own problems to deal with.

But hearing Kira say that, it struck something in her. A sort of familiarity, like she can relate exactly to what the girl is saying.

Because her mother is dead as well, and maybe it’s because of her too.

“I guess,” Malia starts again, glancing towards her, “we have something in common then.”

**

They arrive at Woodland six hours later.

It’s a small town and the last time Malia remembers being here was nearly three months ago, when she was hired as a bodyguard for a cute blonde hotel heiress, Erica Reyes, who had a bounty over her head after messing with some mafia. Malia thought she was pretty hot, but too bad she was having an affair with her tall, dark and handsome limousine driver.

Malia glances over at Kira, who’s already fallen asleep an hour before, her head lolled to the side and the hood of her jacket lowered, so Malia could see her peaceful face. It can’t help but make her smirk a little as she quickly leans over and moves a strand of hair away from Kira’s mouth before focusing her gaze back on to the road. Kira shifts a tiny bit from her touch, but doesn’t wake up, merely just moves so that she’s facing her completely now, her mouth slightly open, and god, if that isn’t adorable, she doesn’t know what is.

She turns on her right lane blinker then, glancing at her side mirrors to make the lane change, but just as she’s about to, something catches her eye. Behind her blue Mustang is a large black SUV with tinted windows so she can’t see the driver, and for some reason, Malia feels like she’s seen that SUV somewhere else before...For a moment, she can’t pinpoint it, but then it dawns on her. When she was driving on the freeway earlier, she remembers seeing the same exact SUV driving alongside her and she remembers it so well because it stuck out like a sore thumb.

It also has the same license plate number.

Someone was following them.

“Damn it,” Malia growls under her breath as she quickly swerves to the left lane instead of the right, making a car honk behind her as she cuts them off. She then makes a fast left turn on a red light at the next intersection, which only makes more cars honk loudly while Kira slides over and hit her shoulder from the impact of the swerve, ultimately waking her up.

“W-Woah, what’s going on?!” Kira asks, looking at Malia with wide eyes.

Malia doesn’t even bother to look at her as she presses on the gas pedal and goes twenty and increasing over the speed limit. “Whatever you do, don’t look back,” is all she says.

But it’s like talking to a five year old, because Kira can’t help but look behind her anyways.

“What the hell did I just say?”

Kira mumbles a quick apology before ducking back down, as Malia keeps increasing her speed. “Can I at least ask what’s going on at least?” Kira asks again after a few moments, her voice mixing in with the sound of the rushing night wind that blew through their hair.

“Someone’s following us,” She quickly answers, “there, can you shut up now?”

Kira closes her mouth then and doesn’t ask anymore questions as Malia pulls into a sorry looking infrastructure that’s actually the Woodland mall, driving towards the three story parking structure. It’s dark and mostly empty of people, but crowded with cars as Malia goes around in circles a few times on the third floor before finally pulling into a parking space. She parks the car and then jumps out and Kira is quick to ask questions again.

“What are you—?”

“Just shut up for a few minutes and hide under the car,” Malia commands, glancing around her surroundings cautiously.

“Hide under the car? Why? Why are we hiding underneath the car?”

Kira continues blabbering when suddenly—Malia hears someone pull into the parking structure.

She clearly hears the sound of an engine but she can’t see if it’s the same car that was following them from before. But not wanting to take any chances, Malia grabs Kira and—thank god, she’s tiny—pulls her out of the Mustang easily before tossing her underneath it. Malia crawls in after her, and they both lie face down on the ground while the harsh scent of motor oil intoxicates their nostrils. Malia can hear the car getting closer and closer with each passing second, before it finally comes to a screeching halt. It’s too dark underneath the Mustang, but as soon as her eyes adjust, she catches Kira’s trembling figure next to her in the darkness and the rough sound of her breathing heavily. Fearing that their stalker would discover them, Malia quickly grabs her by the waist, pulling her closer to her and holding her still while placing one hand not so gently over Kira’s mouth to keep her silent. She can feel Kira’s heart rate spike sharply underneath her sudden hold and Malia can’t tell if it’s because of the immediate closeness of their bodies, or if it’s because after this whole time being on the run, she finally feels fear.

She doesn’t get time to think about it however, because she hears a car door open and then slam shut, the engine still clearly running. For a quick escape, she thinks. And from their current hiding place, she can’t see a face or even a clear view of the person's upper or lower body, meaning she can’t even tell if the person is a guy or a girl at least. All her and Kira can see are the heavy black boots that clunk up the dirty pavement in between her Mustang and the minivan parked next to them. The person shifts around a couple of times, probably examining their surroundings, before finally standing still.

She hears Kira’s heart start to pound rapidly at this sudden development and Malia’s starting to think that Kira’s heart is going to pound right out of her chest, making her only hope that whoever this goddamn person is, they don’t decide to fucking crouch down and reveal them of their hiding place.

Because Malia’s definitely not in the mood to kick ass right now.

Her lucky stars seem to be on her side though, because whoever it was that was following them, promptly turns and walks away, out of their sight. And as soon as the sound of the engine fades into the distance, Kira starts squirming in her grip and Malia promptly lets her go, the girl just about ready to crawl out, but then Malia stops her by grabbing her arm.

“I’ll go first,” she tells her in a low voice, before crawling out from underneath the car and quickly standing on her feet, looking around. The lot is empty.

“Coast is clear,” she says.

Kira finally crawls out, covered in dirt.

“You alright?” She asks her.

Kira makes a face that looks like a pout. “Besides the fact that I almost peed my pants, I’m fine. But I could really use a shower.”

Malia smirks. “And I could really use some pizza. C’mon, let’s go.” She jumps back into the driver’s seat but Kira doesn’t move. “What’s wrong? You alright?”

She stands there, an unreadable expression crossing her features. “I...I just..,” she pauses, and then shakes her head, before finally getting into the passenger seat. “Actually, nevermind. It’s...nothing.”

Malia arches an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Kira looks at her and gives her a small smile, a smile that Malia knows is fake.

“I’m sure.”

**

When they finally get to the safehouse, a large three-story building that doesn’t look like an apartment building at all, Malia leads Kira up a winding vintage staircase to the third floor. The whole building unsurprisingly belongs to Derek and technically, the loft was where he used to live until he eventually moved out and the loft technically became hers.Reaching the topmost floor, Malia unlocks the wide barnyard door of the loft, sliding it open and stepping inside while kicking off her shoes along the way. Glancing around, the place is exactly how she remembers it the last time she was here.

It’s mostly bare, like most safehouses are, with their white-washed walls and few pieces of furniture, but this one’s a bit different. The most prominent difference is the large bookcase in the corner of the room, all its shelves filled with books from Derek’s own collection, which Malia doesn’t really care about because she isn’t much of a reader anyways, except for the occasional comic book or two.

There are a few of her own personal things here as well, a stash of clothes in the closet, a pack of special scented soaps underneath the bathroom cabinet that she likes to smell to calm her down, and an old beat up wolf teddy bear from her childhood underneath the bed in the room upstairs.

Malia turns back to Kira, who she realizes is still standing awkwardly at the threshold of the door. “You can come inside, you know.”

“O-Oh, right, sorry,” Kira musters out, finally coming in, still awkward as ever.

Malia looks away to hide her smile. “...Make yourself at home, I guess,” she tells her instead. “We’re only staying the night but you can sleep in the bedroom and I’ll sleep on the couch.” She’s used to sleeping on the couch anyways. “The bathroom’s the first door on the right upstairs, the kitchen probably has top ramen if you’re hungry...Unless you want pizza? Because I’m ordering pizza.” She whips out her phone then, because with lots of practice, Malia’s finally mastered the art of ordering pizza online. “I hope you like meat lovers.”

“It’s okay, I’m not really hungry,” Kira replies.

Malia glances up from her phone, watching her go up the stairs and she can’t help but wrap her mind back around the fact that an innocent looking girl like her was on the run. That she was a wanted criminal, or at least someone who was wrongly accused as one.

But just like Malia thought before, she still believes that there’s definitely more than what meets the eye with Kira.

And maybe if she looks hard enough, she’ll find it.

**

Thirty minutes later, the pizza arrives and Malia tips the delivery boy with the two dollars she found in between the couch cushions. And she’s just about to place a slice of cheese and pepperoni deliciousness in her mouth when—

“Um, Malia?”

She quickly turns, pizza slice still in her hand, and she smirks, thinking that Kira’s changed her mind about being hungry. “Changed your mind already? Too bad, because I’m not sharing—” The rest of the sentence silently fizzles in her throat and she nearly almost drops her pizza when she sees Kira standing at the very top of the stairs, with just a towel wrapped around her body and dark wet strands of hair sticking to her face.

And Malia is definitely not gawking.

Kira shifts her weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably, and Malia forces herself to tear her gaze away, but not quick enough to stop the way her face is starting to burn up. God. She can’t remember the last time that’s happened. “What do you need?” She immediately asks, sideways glancing at her.

“Clothes,” she replies, sounding shy. “I don’t really have a lot with me. I mean—if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. There’s some upstairs, I’ll get em’ for you,” Malia answers, sounding unbelievably distracted as she places her pizza slice down and makes her way up the stairs, focusing far too much on the way her shoulders brush against Kira’s bare ones, because god, Malia would be lying if she doesn’t admit it.

Kira’s kind of, well, beautiful.

“Here.” Malia hands her a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from the closet, which she takes with a grateful smile.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Malia continues to stand there, unmoving, and notices how Kira bites her bottom lip nervously. “What is it?”

There’s a blush staining her cheeks now. “Uh..Well I need to change, so, um, do you mind?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” She silently curses herself for being so stupid and then turns around, letting Kira change in peace. Then curiously, she asks, “how long has this been going on for?”

“Three months,” she replies without hesitation and then, “you can turn around now.”

“Is it difficult?” Malia questions, turning around just in time as Kira finishes putting on the shirt. And for a moment, she can’t help but give her a quick once over. The t-shirt and sweats are massive on her tiny frame, but that just makes her look even more adorable. Jesus Christ, she thinks, quickly shaking the thought away and thankfully Kira doesn’t notice her wandering eyes as she crosses her arms instead. “You know, being on the run.”

Kira nods and lowers her gaze. “It’s...a very different experience, I guess,” she says slowly. “In the beginning, when I didn’t even know that someone was stealing money and killing people using my alias, the police raided my apartment while I was at school.” Malia watches as she swallows hard. “I...was studying computer engineering at Stanford. And actually, my friend who lived in the same apartment complex as me called me up and warned me that the police was at my house. She didn’t know why I of course..and neither did I....but she owed me a favor and so, I fled. It was later that day when I found out what was going on.” She laughs nervously. “And so, I stole a car—I know, I know, hard to believe, but I did. And...I drove all over the state, running, hiding, checking into cheap motels under different names, until I ran low on money…” She sighs, and Malia wonders how many times Kira had to sleep without a roof over her head on a cold night.

A sad smile plays on Kira’s lips slightly as she looks up at her again with dark eyes “But I think the worse thing is that you end up getting so paranoid that you don’t know who to trust anymore, so you just kind of stop trusting people. Whenever someone talks to you, a million questions run through your head. Like, do they know who I am? Have they seen me on the news? Are they going to call the cops on me?”

Malia let those last words sink inside her, leaving a heavy feeling deep in her gut, because she too knows how it feels to not be able to trust anyone either. “Do you... trust me?” She finds herself suddenly asking, the question leaving her mouth without second thought.

Kira blinks at her, surprised, clearly not expecting that. “Do I trust you?”

Malia nods and keeps her gaze locked with Kira’s. If it was anyone else she knew, they probably would have said no, and she understands why. She’s irresponsible, immature sometimes, and a bit unapproachable.

Okay, maybe a lot unapproachable, but that isn’t the point.

“I think I do,” Kira finally says, which actually surprises her, because she wasn’t expecting that answer. “I don’t know why, but I do.”

But it makes her smile. “Good,” Malia says, “because even if you didn’t trust me, I’m still going to get you through this. I’m going to make sure nothing happens to you.” She doesn’t know exactly why she says it like that, because that’s technically her job description, to keep her client safe, but she felt like she had to anyways.

Kira blinks at her, an awestruck expression crossing her features before she smiles brightly and almost looks like she’s going to cry. But thankfully, she doesn’t, and Malia’s grateful because she definitely doesn’t know how to handle crying. “You’re the only person who’s said that to me in the past three months,” she says instead. “Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

Malia nods. She can’t remember the last time anyone’s thanked her for anything before and it leaves behind a warm, almost butterfly feeling that she’s never experienced before either, and she doesn’t know what to do with it. “No problem,” she says quickly, as she walks around Kira towards the door while trying to bury that feeling away. “You should probably get some sleep, we leave early tomorrow.”

Kira nods back. “Right. Good night.”

“Night.” Giving her one last glance, Malia heads back downstairs after that, where she ends up eating half of the box of pizza by herself before falling asleep on the couch for the rest of the night.

**

It’s two o’clock in the morning when Kira suddenly screams.

Malia jerks awake at the first sound of it, nearly falling off the couch as she fumbles to her feet. She runs upstairs, the knife she keeps under her pillow clenched tightly in her fingertips as she bursts into Kira’s room, ready to stab the blade into the intruder. But as soon as Malia bursts in, she realizes that there’s no one in the room except for Kira, whose trembling and covered in cold sweat. And when she sees the dirty blonde barge into her room in the darkness, raising a knife in her hand, Kira screams even more.

“Shit, Kira, it’s just me,” Malia says, putting down the knife immediately as she quickly walks over to the bed. She switches on the bed side lamp, making light illuminate the room and flicker on the walls, finally showing her a fear-stricken Kira with wide eyes. It’s the first time that Malia’s seen her like that. “Why’d you scream?”

“S-sorry,” she stutters, looking away from her. “I just...had a bad dream. It usually happens when I sleep in new places.”

Being on the run for the last three months, Malia wonders how many times it’s happened already. “Do you want to...uh, talk about it?” She asks hesitatingly, because usually she wouldn’t give a damn, but at this moment, she felt like it was the right thing to say.

Kira shakes her head, before lying back down again. “No, it’s okay. I already bothered you enough.”

Malia frowns. “It’s fine, really. But if you need anything, just let me know. I’ll be downstairs.” She gets up from the bed to leave, heading towards the door.

“Malia?”

She stops and turns, seeing a tiny Kira bundled up in the covers on a bed that seemed too big for her. “Hm? Yeah?”

“Can you, um, stay with me until I fall asleep again?” Her request is quiet, and it’s almost too hard for Malia to deny.

She walks back over and sits on the edge of the bed, before switching the light off. “Yeah, sure. I’m here. Go to sleep...I’m right here,” she says slowly, getting an incoherent hum from the girl as she watches her curl up more comfortably.

It doesn’t take long for Kira to fall asleep after that. But even then, Malia doesn’t leave right away, because before she even knows it she’s stroking Kira’s hair softly while watching the girl sleep peacefully.

**

It’s still dark out when they leave Woodland at five in the morning.

Kira doesn’t bring up what happened last night, and Malia doesn’t mention it.

They stop at a 24-hour diner where Malia uses Derek’s credit card lavishly to pack a to-go breakfast of pancakes, waffles, eggs, and a cup of the strongest coffee that she could get the waitress to make for her because Malia is definitely not a morning person.

But forty five minutes later, as the caffeine kicks in and the sun starts coming up from its slumber as she zooms down a mostly empty route 88, Malia feels strangely good, even though she’s driving across the state with a wanted criminal. She tries not to think too much about that though, and part of her is actually pleasantly surprised that they haven’t been pulled over yet, or haven’t gone through a high speed chase with the police, but maybe that doesn’t happen in real life and just in those stupid action packed movies that she can’t get herself to stop watching.

They drive for about three hours and in those three hours, there’s a lot of small talk between them. Kira talks about Stanford and how she got into hacking in the first place, while Malia talks about dropping out of college and how she became a bodyguard. It should all feel a bit weird a few hours later, taking in the situation they’re in, and the fact that Malia’s never really talked this much with a client before.

But then again, Kira’s different. She’s not some famous celebrity, or the daughter of a CEO, or a rich heiress—she’s just Kira. A normal girl like herself, who has some skeletons hidden in her closet just like she does.

And maybe if the circumstances were different, they could have been friends.

There’s a police barricade a few miles up ahead checking for drivers’ licenses, and Malia quickly gets off the next exit ramp into Fairfield, knowing that one look at Kira and the police would have handcuffs around the both of them before they can even blink.

“Wanna go for a swim?” And when Kira looks at her curiously, she adds, “I know a lake nearby, and we have a few hours to lose before that barricade is over, I mean.”

She expects to hear her to say no, to mention that they can easily just take another route, but instead Kira nods. “Sure. I could go for a swim.”

And Malia learns another thing about Kira as they reach a lake situated around a field with lots of tall grass.

One, she’s been on the swim team before in high school and two, she has a tattoo of a fox on her back. And Malia can’t help but think how sexy that is.

They strip down to their undergarments and it isn’t as awkward as she thought it would be, although she does have to literally tear her gaze away from Kira, who’s wearing cute blue polka dot panties and a matching bra, as she wiggles out of her clothes and sets them aside carefully. The idea of just going for a swim ultimately ends up turning into a competition suggested by her of who can swim across the lake first, and Kira grins at her smugly. “You sure about that? I was the fastest at the 250 yards relay. No one could beat me.”

She can’t help but grin back. She likes good competition. “Well, it looks like that’s gonna change today.”

Kira’s eyes sparkle mischievously. “We’ll see about that.”

When they both jump into the water at the same time, it’s so freezing cold that it sends a shock running through Malia’s body, stunning her momentarily before she gets herself to actually start swimming, but by then Kira already has a good start ahead of her. She tries to catch up to her, but Kira wasn’t lying when she said she couldn’t be defeated. She has this perfect butterfly stroke that Malia just can’t keep up with no matter how hard she tries, that by the time Kira does reach the other side of the lake, she’s pretty much given up.

But seeing her raise her hands up in the air in triumph, broad smile on her face, as she lets out a whoop!, just might be worth losing for.

**

After they lie in the sun long enough to dry off their soaked bodies, they put their clothes back on, although it’s kind of uncomfortable with their still slightly drenched undergarments, but neither of them complains as they get back into the car. Malia’s in no hurry to leave right away and Kira, who doesn’t say anything, doesn’t seem to be either, so Malia pulls out a pack of cigarettes from her inside jacket pocket, and lights one up.

She usually doesn’t smoke on the job, but hell, she doesn’t really care right now.

Kira’s staring at her of course, watching her drag it across her lips as smoke billows from it, and Malia wonders if the she’s ever smoked before. “Want one?” She asks, deciding it’s probably the friendly thing to do. Not that she ever does friendly.

“I don’t smoke. And I’m only eighteen,” she says, pure innocence in her voice.

Malia snorts. “You’re on the run and you stole a car and you’re trying to obey the law now?”

Kira doesn’t say anything and Malia takes another cigarette from the pack, offering her one. She takes it tentatively, staring at it, holding it awkwardly within her fingers before Malia shifts her fingers a bit so it’s settled between her index and middle. She lights it up for her then, and watches with great interest as Kira inhales for the first time, and just like she expected, the girl coughs her lungs out.

“You’ll get used to it,” she tells her.

“I don’t know if I want to,” Kira says, but makes no move to extinguish it either.

And they sit there, comfortable in the backseat of the car, legs slightly tangled together as they smoked away while watching the clouds steadily pass by in a sea of blue sky. Silence fills the air between them and Malia figures that Kira’s slowly getting used to smoking the cigarette because she isn’t coughing as if she was an amateur anymore.

They end up smoking half the pack together and Malia feels relaxed, a little too relaxed, and that’s usually when she ends up saying the stupidest things like, “How did your mother die anyways?”

It’s too late to take it back, so she lets it hang in the air like the way the smoke does.

“...She was shot,” Kira says slowly. “This was right after I left Stanford. My parents lived in a small town so when news about me and what I supposedly did got spread, everyone started looking at them differently. Hating them. And...one night my mom had gone out grocery shopping and she was going to leave, but someone slashed the tires of her car. So she decided to walk home but then she was jumped. Shot twice.”

“I didn’t mean to bring it up like that,” Malia says. “Sorry.”

Kira nods. “It’s okay.”

“Malia?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember when you asked me if I was alright at the parking structure in Woodland?”

“Mhm.”

“I-I wasn’t okay,” she stammers. “I was scared. Scared for my life. I just didn’t want to show it...Didn’t want to show that I was weak.”

Malia watches as her gaze lowers, fiddling with her fingers in her lap, and Malia can’t help but reach over and place a hand over hers, making her glance up. “Hey, just because you were afraid doesn’t mean you’re weak. That’s bullshit.”

A small smile curves on Kira’s lips and Malia grins back at her. “Thanks,” she says.

“Anytime.” She sits back against her seat then, folding her arms underneath her head and closing her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

**

When she wakes up again, the barrel of a gun is aimed at her head.

It’s not the first time she’s had a gun aimed at her, but it still manages to take her off guard.

“Don’t move.”

The voice belongs to a man, and as Malia glances up to look at who it was, she finds herself facing a man, maybe in his late twenties, with a bandana covering half of his face. For a minute, she thinks that it’s the same person that followed them back in Woodland, but it’s not, because this man looks like a complete amateur just by the way he holds the gun.

He’s probably never even pulled the trigger before.

There’s the sound of some sort of ruffling coming across from her and Malia glances over at Kira, sees her fast asleep, but there’s another man also with a bandana covering half his face looking through her backpack.

“Hey, don’t touch her stuff,” Malia growls, only to get the cold metal of the gun smacked across her face, taking her off guard again as she feels a trickle of blood leak down from her nose. “Fuck you. What do you guys even want? We don’t even have any money on us,” she snarls.

“Shut up,” the man holding the gun hisses, “and get out of the car.”

Oh no. There’s no way in hell she’s going to let them take her precious Bluebell from her.

Malia scoffs. “Go fuck yourselves.”

She’s probably pissed them off at that point because the guy looking through Kira’s bag suddenly stops, yanks Kira by the hair out of the car, making her scream and wake up, and oh, Malia’s had the last of it right then and there.

“Get the fuck out of the car,” The man holding the gun against her head says again, ready to smack her across the face once more, but before he can, Malia grabs him by the arm and twists as hard as she can, just like how Derek showed her, making him let out a howl as he drops his gun and stumbles away from her.

Malia takes that opportunity to leap out of the car and grab the other man holding down Kira, tackling him to the ground and punch him in the face, giving him no mercy as the guy whimpers underneath her, blood starting to trickle out of his mouth and nose and splattering her fists with his blood.

“M-Malia!”

Hearing the familiar voice, Malia turns rapidly, dirty blonde falling in front of her face in raggedy strands as she finds Kira in the grip of the other man who had the gun raised to her head the first time. Now that same gun was raised against Kira’s head.

Malia stands, her fists stained with blood, some of it her own. “Let her go.”

“Give me the car keys and I’ll let her go,” the man sneers.

“Don’t give them to him, Malia,” Kira says, and Malia’s shocked because Kira isn’t in any position to be saying anything right now.

The man’s hold across Kira’s  throat tightens in response, making her squirm as he hisses at her to shut up before turning back to Malia, “Hurry up and gimme the keys, damn it.”

“They’re—in my pocket,” she says slowly, one of her hands lowering to the front of her jeans. She sees Kira’s eyes widen, in confusion, in understanding maybe, because she knows that the keys are most definitely not in Malia’s jeans pockets. They’re hanging in the ignition of the Mustang and the two men were just too stupid to realize that in the first place.

She only has two seconds to do this right.

Shoot to wound, not to kill, Talia’s words echo through her head as she takes a deep breath. Just as she slides her left hand into her pocket, she quickly bends down, picks up the gun from the ground that belonged to the man she knocked out, and without a moment’s hesitation, pulls the trigger.

Two shots echoed through the silence of the field, and the crows sounded overhead, circling around them as the man’s grip on Kira loosens before he finally falls to the ground. Malia shot him twice in both kneecaps and now he’s screaming.

When she glances towards Kira, she’s trembling. But there’s a certain look in her eyes, a glint, and Malia knows she understands it had to be done.

**

Kira drives the rest of the way, even though Malia insists that her hands are okay.

They’re back on the road after she ended up calling 911 from one of the man’s phones and then throwing it into the lake for good measure, just so there’s no way they can connect the shooting back to her, except if it becomes a police case and a sketch artist gets involved. But even if that happens, she’s sure Talia will handle it. She glances down at her fists that are wrapped in part of Kira’s sleeve that she ripped off right after Malia shot the man. Ripped them right off her shirt without any hesitation, and took Malia’s bloody hands in her own and wrapped up her knuckles in such a gentle, caring way that she didn’t even know what to think.

She remembers getting into fist fights when Talia put her back into high school, with some other outcast girls that at least weren’t as much of an outcast as her, which is exactly why they picked on her in the first place. She would come home with cuts and bruises all over her face and hands and she wouldn’t let anyone clean her up. They were her fucking battle scars and she was proud of them.

But now—now, she isn’t that sixteen year old girl anymore and she doesn’t mind Kira cleaning up her wounds.

In fact, it actually feels kind of nice.

“You’ve shot a gun before?” Kira asks. It’s the first thing she’s asked her ever since they left the lake.

Malia nods. “Twice before. But I don’t like using guns unless they’re absolutely necessary.”

“Back there, was that absolutely necessary?”

She turns towards Kira then, who has her eyes focused directly on the road, while her fingers tap against the wheel in some imaginary beat or maybe just in anxiety. The sun is at its highest point of the day and it shines behind her head like a halo, and Malia can’t help but stare. The sight of Kira driving her Mustang with her in the passenger seat almost makes her think that if anyone were to pass them by, they would probably think that the two of them are together. Girlfriends, lovers, a couple driving cross-country or just traveling through the state, sightseeing.  

And just the thought of it makes a smile play on her lips.

“Yeah, it was,” she finally says, “otherwise those idiots would have took Bluebell and there’s no way in hell I would have let that happen.

Kira lets out a small laugh and she wants to hear it over and over again. “Definitely necessary.”

“You bet it is.”

“Malia?”

“Hm?”

“I know it’s your job, but...thanks for saving me,” she says.

Malia stares at her, and she knows the right thing to say in response would be it’s my job, but she can’t help but think she would save Kira no matter what. She grins. “Anytime.”

**

They decide to stop in Berkeley for the night.

They’re close by the university that much they know, not because Berkeley is a college town, but because it’s Friday night and they keep passing by police cars who are patrolling the area, stopping down any potential drunk driving teens.

“Are you tired?” Malia asks.

Kira shakes her head. “No, are you?”

“Nope.” Malia turns at the intersection then, knowing her way around quite well because she’s been to Berkeley a couple of times when Derek used to teach as a literature professor there and she would sit in his lectures just for the fun of it. Afterwards, they’d go to the bar across the street and drink a beer. It was nice, now that she thinks about it, especially since Derek wouldn’t act as brooding or grumpy during those times. She turns back to Kira, “Have you ever been to a frat party?”

“No…,” she says a bit shyly, “have you?”

“Of course. I hated college, but the parties weren’t so bad.” They really weren’t, there was lots of booze and pretty girls that Malia could dance with all night long, and if they weren’t too drunk and puking, she’d take them back to her dorm. Sometimes they didn’t even have sex, they just collapsed on her bed and cuddled—maybe kissed a little before the alcohol got the better of them. “Wanna go to one?”

Kira bites her lower lip and then glances down at her ripped shirt. “Can we, um, change first?” It isn’t a yes, but it isn’t a no either.

“Yeah, sure.” It’s not like it was a bad idea, since going to a party in a shirt splattered with the blood of the guy you beat up isn’t such a good idea anyways.

They change out of their old clothes in the restroom at a nearby gas station and put on new ones, not that it changes the fact that the scent of salt water and the rugged earth is still clinging to their skin, but Malia doesn’t really care because she loves the smell. After they leave, she drives them to the only frat house that she knows of and unsurprisingly, it’s fully packed with people.

The whole place smells like booze and weed smoke as they enter, and Malia’s hand instantly grabs Kira’s as she navigates her through the crowd of people dancing drunkenly and well out of their senses. The beat of the music travels through her body like an electric spark and before she knows it, she’s nodding her head to the rhythm as she makes her way to where the drinks are being served. Malia downs one of the red plastic cups, and thankfully it’s just cheap tequila and there’s nothing weird added to it, so she offers one to Kira who takes it hesitatingly like she did with the cigarette.

“Never drank before?”

Kira shakes her head. “I have, but I’ve never got drunk before.”

Malia sips her second drink, and usually she doesn’t get drunk on the job, in fact it’s something against the code of rule that Talia set up for the agency, but right now she really doesn’t give a damn. “There’s a first time for everything,” she says instead, flashing her a grin as she feels the music start to pound in her ears, the first feeling of intoxication rushing through her body and making her eyes flutter close for a moment, letting herself drown in the music and alcohol together. When she opens her eyes again, she finds Kira already downing her first drink. And before she can even ask how well she can hold her liquor, Kira’s drinking another, and then another, and Malia has to stop her at her fourth drink before all hell breaks loose.

Kira’s tipsy, a silly smile reaching her lips as Malia holds her steady so she doesn’t fall over. “Woah, woah, that’s enough for you tonight, Yukimura,” she says, taking the red plastic cup away from her and ready to carry her back to the car if she has to.

But drunk Kira seems to have other plans as she grabs her hand and starts dragging her towards the dance floor. “Come dance with me, Malia!”

Malia barely has time to protest because before she knows it, she’s surrounded by people bumping into her in all directions, but she barely notices it because Kira immediately grabs her attention when she starts dancing completely uncoordinated and out of beat—and it’s so adorably silly that  she has to bring a hand up over her mouth to stifle her laugh.

But the laugh flatlines as soon as it starts, because suddenly any space that existed between the two of them disappears as Kira moves closer to her, close enough that Malia feels her warm breath against the crook of her neck as she whispers again, “Dance with me.”

And maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the warmth of their bodies combined—or maybe it’s a little bit of both, but whatever the hell it is, Malia finds herself nodding as she finds her hand sliding to the small of Kira’s back and her other hand resting on her hip as she moves against her, much more in beat to the music than she is. But Kira doesn’t seem to care whether or not she’s dancing to the beat, because she wraps her arms around Malia’s neck and throws her head back in some sheer euphoria, exposing the long column of her throat to Malia’s gaze and all she wants to do at that moment is lean down and ghost her lips down the creamy expanse of her neck.

But she restrains herself—because hell, she shouldn’t be feeling this way about a client. Although it’s kind of hard not to, because Kira’s unconsciously or consciously grinding her hips down on hers while simultaneously biting her lower lip and letting her eyes flutter to a close as she completely loses herself to the music, and to Malia, it’s a gorgeous sight.

They dance like that for a while, the rest of the world around them becoming a blur of people and bright colors as Kira buries her face in Malia’s shoulder. It makes hot electric pulses dance on her skin as she lets her nose nuzzle Kira’s hair, taking in her sweet but musky scent that just intoxicates Malia more than the alcohol that’s buzzing through her body right now.

“Mm, M-Malia,” Kira suddenly says so lowly against her ear, that she almost doesn’t hear it over the loud music.

Kira slumps against her then and suddenly Malia has to support her whole body weight as she holds her up. “Hey...hey, what’s wrong?” She asks.

“I-I don’t feel so goooood,” Kira slurs, and Malia doesn’t need to be told twice to know that if she doesn’t take her to the bathroom soon, she’s going to vomit all over her and herself.

Blood she can deal with, but vomit? Not a chance.

Luckily, finding a bathroom in the frat house isn’t that hard, and Kira ends up puking in the toilet and not all over her favorite pair of jeans. And as she upchucks everything she just drank, Malia gathers up all her hair and holds it up so that it doesn’t fall in Kira’s face as she lunges over the toilet bowl, gagging, and Malia simultaneously rubs her back soothingly.

After Kira feels like she’s emptied out her whole stomach, Malia helps her clean off her face so that she’s not covered in her own puke, and it’s probably the only time she’s ever doing that. Then, supporting an arm around Kira’s waist, she starts to lead her out of the bathroom but they only get so far before crashing right into someone. Malia’s about to growl and yell at the person to watch where they’re going but then—

“Kira?”

Malia glances up and Kira does too, groggily, as they face a boy who’s about the same height as Malia, with dark hair and a crooked jaw, and his expression as he looks at Kira is one of complete surprise.

“S-Scott?” Kira mumbles.

Malia’s brow furrows. “You two know each other?” The question comes out of her much more unpleasantly than she intended.

Kira nods, too tired and dehydrated to give her an explanation. So, Scott does.

“Yeah, we went to the same high school together,” he explains and then his voice dropping to a whisper, “in fact, we were in a hacker group together. Used to hack the school lunch menus.” He grins like it’s an accomplishment. “The three of us.”

She frowns. “The three of you?”

Scott nods. “Me, Kira, and our other friend, Stiles. He’s here actually—”

Kira sucks in her breath loudly at the sound of this. “Stiles is here? No, no, that’s not good.” She glances towards Malia, pouting. “I need to go.”

She tries squirming away from her grip, but Malia holds her firmly and Scott stops her before she can take another step forward.

“It’s okay, Kira. It’s been a whole year, he’s not mad at you,” he tries to explain to her, but Malia has no idea what he’s trying to explain. And then his voice drops to a whisper, “In fact, we’re both pretty worried about you. You were all over the news three months ago. Are you really The Vixen, Kira? Are you really running from the police?”

“She’s not,” Malia says. “It’s just a misunderstanding.” She stops there though, not knowing how much she’s supposed to say out loud, since it’s not like she can ask Kira in her drunken stupor.

A look of relief passes Scott’s face. “I knew it was. I knew Kira couldn’t do something like that..” Malia catches the brief nostalgic tone in his voice, and it makes her wonder how well they knew each other. Then, as if finally noticing her presence, Scott turns to her, brows narrowing curiously. “Sorry, but who are you?”

Being put in the spotlight like that, Malia doesn’t know what to say. Usually, she easily bursts out with an answer such as friend or long distance cousin twice removed, but this time she hesitates. “I’m...her—”

“Ohmygod Scott, can’t you tell she’s my girlfriend?” Kira suddenly exclaims drunkenly, making both Malia’s and Scott’s eyes widen.

Fuck, she thinks, because there’s no going back now. She glances over at Scott, who looks bewildered and says, “Uh, yeah. Her girlfriend.”

He starts, “I didn’t know she was….”

“Into girls?” Malia snorts. “Well, now you know. Now, if you could move, we’d like to leave before the police arrives.” She starts walking around Scott after that, only to be stopped again when he softly grabs her arm.

“If you guys need anything,” Scott says, trailing off, “...Kira still has my number.”

Malia stares at him for a good long minute, trying to figure out what to think of him. She ultimately decides he’s a good guy. “Thanks. We’ll let you know,” she throws over her shoulder as she helps Kira out of the house, who can’t stop pressing her face against Malia’s shoulder.

Not that she minds it, of course.

**

As soon as they leave, the police arrive shortly after, and it starts raining hard.

While hoping that Scott and his friend don’t get arrested, Malia drives to the nearest motel in the pouring rain and she doesn’t waste time trying to drag Kira inside after she parks, and instead just scoops her up in her arms and carries her in. Their hair is already drenched by the time they reach the front desk, where a woman with bright blue hair sits.

“Give us a double,” Malia says, patting her pockets for Derek’s credit card.

“Inside...your jacket,” Kira whispers, holding her head in pain.

“Oh, right.” She slides it out from her jacket pocket and places it on the counter. “A double for the night,” she repeats again.

“No doubles tonight,” the woman at the counter says cheekily. “Can I book you for a single, doll?”

Malia could take whatever she can get right now. “Yeah, whatever.”

The woman hands them a pair of keys and Malia carries Kira to a room on the second floor. Kicking the door open, she walks in and deposits Kira, who is now shivering through her wet clothes, on the dingy bed in the middle of the room. Malia opens up her backpack and takes out some dry clothes, since she left Kira’s bag in the trunk of her car and she’s really not in the mood to go back outside and get it since the rain started to sound like it was picking up.

“Here, change into these,” she says, tossing her a t-shirt and pants. “And go to sleep. You’re going to feel terrible in the morning.” She takes out her cellphone then, tries to see if she has a signal to call up Derek or Cora. Maybe just Derek, because she knows he worries the most, even though he doesn’t show it. But due to the rain, she barely has any signal. Grumbling, she turns to Kira and sees her struggling with trying to take off her shirt, her arms raised in the air and her head stuck in the neck hole.

“Maliaaaaaa.”

God, she’s so drunk.

Malia walks over to her, sitting on the edge of the bed as she helps Kira out of her shirt, revealing her blue polka dot bra from before and Malia tries her best to focus on Kira’s face as she helps her slip on the new dry t-shirt, which is harder than she thought because Kira keeps squirming. “Remind me to never get you drunk again,” Malia mumbles as she finally gets her arms through the shirt holes.

Getting Kira’s pants off is even harder, but eventually it gets done and she sits there slightly happier in dry clothes if it’s anything to tell by the silly smile she has on her face. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” Malia says, turning to move off the bed, because she’s used to sleeping in weird places by now. But before she can even stand up, Kira’s grabbing her hand.

“No. Sleep here. With me. There’s lots of room on the bed.”

Malia’s about to protest, but she realizes there’s really no point since Kira’s probably not going to let go of her until she does. “Fine. But you stay on her your side, alright?”

Kira nods happily before finally lying down as Malia crawls to the farthest end of the other side of the bed. She switches off the dim lamp on the bedside table and then tries to go to sleep, her back facing Kira so that she doesn’t have to look at her. But not even fifteen minutes pass before she starts to hear her move around, shaking the bed each time she shifts.

“Malia? Are you still wakey?”

She doesn’t say anything, and pretends to be asleep instead, knowing that if she stays quiet long enough, Kira will just get bored and go to sleep.

Turns out, she’s wrong.

“Malia? Malia? Maliaaaaa?”

Grumbling in defeat, she turns over so that she’s facing her and frowns. “What?”

Kira smiles and then giggles, scooting herself closer to Malia until she’s curled up at her side, her shoulder being used as her pillow, and Malia’s immediate to protest, “What the hell did I just say about staying on your—”

“What did you mean when you said that was something we had in common?” Kira suddenly asks softly, cutting her off.

Malia’s expression softens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, even though she knows exactly what she’s talking about. It’s only been around 72 hours when she first murmured it after they left Beacon Hills.

Kira tilts her head up a little, her still damp hair brushing against Malia’s nose, the sweet smell of rain-water mixed with her own distinct scent that makes her inhale deeply. Kira slurs, “You don’t remember, Mal? When I told you that my mother was dead? And that it was my fault? Rememberrrrr?”

“No.”

“You have bad memory.”

“Go to sleep, Kira.” Malia groans, trying to turn over but Kira latches on to her, wrapping her arms around her waist and not letting go.

“Is she dead too?” Kira whispers, “Your mother?”

Hearing those words, Malia shivers. She thinks back to that one newspaper clipping in the old worn out jewelry box that she wishes she can unsee, and the headline echoes through her head. Abandoned newborn found on side of the road, crying for her mother. She thinks about it, thinks about how could a woman be so cold-hearted to leave a baby on the side of the road? Her own blood and living flesh? It makes her fists clench the motel sheets of the bed because it makes her angry.

But most of all, deep down, it makes her sad. Sad, because Malia harbored anger for her mother for sixteen years, thinking that the woman had left her because she didn’t want her. What she didn’t know then that she knows now is, her mother never left her because she didn’t want her. She left her so her supposed psychopathic father wouldn’t get his hands on her.

And even though she came out untouched by him, her mother sure didn’t.

Another headline flashes through her head. Husband brutally murders wife and is sent to a mental asylum.

That’s how she became an orphan until Talia, her father’s sister, found her.

“Yeah,” Malia finally says, trying to keep her voice as steely as possible. “She’s dead.” What she doesn’t say but wishes she could is, and it’s my fault too.

But it doesn’t matter, because it’s not like Kira is going to remember any of this tomorrow morning. She would be hungover, not remember a thing, and Malia’s secrets will still be her secrets.

“It’s o-okay,” Kira suddenly hums, her voice muffled from where she’s nuzzling her face in between Malia’s breasts. “It’s not your fault. It’s. Not. Your. Fault. Okay? You’re okay. It’s going to be A-Okay. You’ll be alright…” Her voice trails off when a yawn escapes her lips, as she cuddles closer to her. “You and I’ll be safe and sound.”

Kira’s eyes finally flutter to a close then, and Malia slowly finds her fingers stroking the other girl’s hair softly. “Mhm,” she murmurs, “Yeah....Safe and sound.”

**

In the morning, Kira doesn’t remember anything and Malia’s grateful.

She does, however, have a major hangover as she presses a icepack to her head and groans. “Are you sure I didn’t do anything embarrassing last night?” she asks again, pouting.

Malia flashes her a smile. “Besides for your embarrassing drunk dancing at the frat party? Nope.” She doesn’t tell her what happened back at the motel room, and she doesn’t plan to either.

“Ugh,” Kira grumbles again as she lies back further against the seat. “I hope it’s not all over youtube.”

They’re exactly a little over an hour away from San Francisco, and Malia can’t help but feel a little nervous. It’s probably the first feeling of nervousness she’s had on the whole trip, and she has no idea how to handle it. She’s never been nervous on the job before, with the exception of her very first few jobs where she was an absolute amateur who thought she was invincible, but this is different.

Different, because Malia’s never felt this way towards a client before. Like there’s some sort of connection, like there’s something about Kira that just puts her at ease.

And she doesn’t know what to do about it.

“What do you plan on doing when you face this Nogitsune dude, anyways?” Malia asks, because they haven’t had this conversation yet. In fact, Kira hasn’t said anything about the guy ever since they left.

Kira stays quiet.

Malia arches a brow. “Kira? Did you hear me?”

She nods slowly. “Well, um, I plan on confronting him...but I haven’t really thought about it since...I still don’t exactly know who he is.”

“What?” Malia stomps on the brakes and turns off the ignition so fast that Kira looks frightened out of her mind by the time she turns to face her. “What do you mean you don’t know who he is? I thought you said he was in San Francisco?” She watches as Kira flinches slightly from her tone of voice, and Malia tries to calm down but she can’t.

“He is,” Kira replies quietly, “I just...don’t know where exactly he is. But I’m figuring it out. I just need some time.”

Malia’s hand grips the steering wheel tightly. “Why didn’t you tell me this in the first place?”

“Because I didn’t think you’d take the job.”

Of course, Malia thinks. It made sense. And even though she’ll never admit it, she’s slightly impressed. “It’s....fine,” she says, instead. “Too late to go back now, anyways.” She then tries to turn the key to the start the car again, and it makes a few loud rumbling noises before the engine shuts down. She tries again, but same thing.

“Oh my god, you gotta be kidding me.” Malia jumps out of the car then, and opens up the hood of the car, only to have smoke rise from the engine. “Damn it, Bluebell.”

She regrets not listening to Derek in the first place.

**

They try hitch-hiking for about an hour.

And in those sixty minutes, they had a few cars stop for them, all of which they turned down because some asked for money, which they both don’t have at all, while others were just creeps that Malia threatened to leave before she punched them in the throat.

“Maybe we should walk? And then take the ferry?” Kira suggests.

“That’s an excellent idea, you know, if we had money.” Malia walks back towards the car, relying only on trying to get signal on her phone and maybe get a tow truck on the interstate where they’re at, or call up Derek.

“Maybe we should—” Kira pauses, because another car is driving up the road. It’s a worn out blue jeep and Kira quickly runs in front of it, waving her hands like a crazy person, completely forgetting the fact that she’s a wanted criminal and should really lay low.

Unsurprisingly, the jeep passes by Kira, but then surprisingly, it stops. Then, one of the car door opens and a familiar figure gets out. Kira’s the first to recognize him and his crooked jaw.

“Scott?!” She’s running towards him now and nearly tackles the boy down as Malia follows behind her, definitely not jealous of the giant hug Kira gives him.

When she lets go, Scott stares at the two of them in bewilderment. “What are you two doing here?”

“Car broke down obviously,” Malia says. “We were heading down to San Francisco.”

Scott’s eyes light up. “Really? We were too, actually.”

Again with the we. But before Malia can question it this time, the driver’s seat of the jeep open and comes out a tall, gangly guy wearing a flannel shirt and who has too many moles speckled across his face and neck. Malia figures that this guy is Scott’s other friend that he mentioned at the party, Stiles. He walks over and Kira’s eyes go slightly wide.

“Hey, Kira. Or should I call you The Vixen now?” He says with a grin. “Who would have thought the most innocent member of our pack would become a wanted criminal.”

Kira smiles a little. “You’re...not mad?”

Stiles chuckles. “Mad? Seriously Kira, you think I’d still be mad about that stupid thing?”

She doesn’t say anything, and Malia steps in, getting straight to the point. “So, can you give us a ride or not?”

“Of course,” Scott says with a grin, “anything for our friend and her girlfriend.”

Malia’s eyes widen and Kira sucks in a breath next to her, equally surprised.

“G-Girlfriend?” She questions, and before she can say anything else, Malia grabs her hand and laces their fingers together.

She smiles at the two boys. “She was so drunk last night, she didn’t remember telling you we were dating,” she explains cooly, while feeling Kira’s eyes on her. “Isn’t that right Kira?” Malia turns towards the girl standing next to her, who looks frozen in place, and she quickly leans down and presses a quick kiss against Kira’s cheek, which definitely brings her back to reality.

“R-Right,” she responds nervously, face turning a beet red that makes Malia smile with pride. “We’re totally dating…like totally.”

“Uh, okay then,” Stiles says, raising a curious brow and sideways glancing at Scott, who looks just as confused as Malia’s always seen him. “We better get going then, I rather not get stuck in traffic.”

Scott nods and then turns to her, “I’ll call someone I know to fix your car and bring it down to San Francisco.”

Malia gives him a thumbs up and then still holding Kira’s hand, drags her inside the blue jeep. But as soon as she opens the door, she realizes that the boys aren’t driving alone. A brunette girl sits near the window, texting on her phone before glancing up and looking towards them. She smiles. “Oh, hey. You guys are—?”

“She’s one of their high school friends, I’m just a hitchhiker, and we’re dating,” Malia says, emphasizing the last part as she slides into the seat. “Malia. And that’s Kira.”

“Cool,” the brunette says, “I’m Allison. Stiles’ girlfriend.”

Malia raises both eyebrows. “Interesting. And how’s that like?”

“Mostly weird, and a lot of bad humor in all the wrong situations. But don’t tell him that.”

The three of them chuckle as Stiles and Scott slide back into the front seats, with Stiles starting the car again and pulling back on to the road. “San Francisco, here we come baby!”

Malia sees the wide grin on his face as he glances into his rear view mirror, his gaze locking with hers momentarily before she breaks it by redirecting her gaze out the window, watching the horizon roll by.

**

The drive to San Francisco rapidly becomes full of conversation.

Scott, Stiles, and Kira keep reminiscing about their high school days, and Malia can barely keep up because one, she hated high school, and two, she realizes that the three of them were a bunch of nerds who watched too much Star Wars and played too many computer games. Allison, on the other hand, who actually met Scott and Stiles in college, is just as much of an outsider as she is, but unlike her, she doesn’t really mind it, laughing along and adding small remarks.

Malia stays quiet most of the way.

“So, how did you two meet?” The question comes from Allison, directed to Kira, who for a minute looks like she has no idea what the brunette is talking about.

“We lived in the same apartment complex,” Malia answers for her, sitting up straighter now.

“And you didn’t ask any questions when she asked you to tag along with her while she’s on the run?” Allison is grinning now, and it’s kind of malicious.

Kira, once again doesn’t say anything.

“She didn’t ask me to tag along,” Malia says, a bit rudely, “I tagged along with her because I knew she was telling the truth and I—like her.” The last part surprises her, because she didn’t intend to say that and Kira glances over at her, eyes wide at first, but then she smiles as she squeezes her hand. Malia doesn’t know if it was a gesture for thank you or something else, but it makes her lips curve in a small smile too.

“Well, isn’t that cute,” Stiles says teasingly, glancing back at them from the rear view mirror. “But, let’s get to more important things. Like, how the hell do you even know who’s using your name?”

“Yeah, maybe we can help you out,” Scott adds. “My dad works with the FBI and Stiles’ dad is the Sheriff, so maybe we can help you clear your name.”

“I don’t think that’s supposed to make her feel better, Scott,” Allison says with a roll of her eyes.

If Malia could at that moment, she would tell Kira to lie or make up an excuse, since it’s better not to involve too many people. But since she couldn’t tell her that, Kira ends up telling them about the Nogitsune hacker.

“Who names themselves the Nogitsune? What does that even mean?” Scott asks after Kira’s done explaining.

Kira opens her mouth to answer, but Stiles beats her to it. “It’s a type of kitsune in Japanese folklore,” he explains, “Basically a dark kitsune, or a dark fox that tricks people for its own benefit and feeds off people’s misery and pain.”

Malia narrows her eyes at Stiles after hearing this. “Sounds like someone’s an expert at Japanese mythology,” she says suspiciously.

Stiles grins at her through the rear view mirror. “I’ve taken a few folklore studies classes. And besides, never trust a fox.”

**

By the time the sun hits the horizon, they’re in San Francisco and they come to a stop in front of Allison’s house. To everyone else, it’s just a pretty beige house, but when Malia sees it, it’s the pretty beige house that she never had the liberty to grow up in.

“My dad said I can come back here for the college break,” Allison explains as she leads her and Kira to the room they’re going to be staying in. “And I’m sure he won’t mind a few friends over, even if one of them is criminal hacker trying to prove herself innocent.” She flashes them a grin as she opens a door to a simple guest room. “I hope this is cool for you guys?”

“Yeah, it’s great. Thanks,” Kira says, giving her a friendly smile back as she enters the room and Malia follows in behind her.

“Awesome. If you need anything, feel free to ask,” Allison says, leaving them with that note and as soon as she’s gone, Malia quickly shuts the door and locks it.

“What happened between you and Stiles?” She immediately asks.

Kira sits on the bed and blinks at her. “What do you mean?”

“You thought he was still mad at you over something. What was it?"

Her mouth forms into an ‘o’. “Oh. That...Wait, why do you care?”

Malia crosses her arms and paces around the room. She decides that telling Kira that one of her assumedly close friends is trying to ruin her without any evidence isn’t such a good idea. “No reason. Just curious,” she replies, lowering her voice a little bit just incase someone hears them.

“Oh. Well, it’s nothing really,” Kira tries to explain, “it’s just, back when we were in our senior year of high school, Stiles and I both applied for this scholarship for Stanford and I won it instead of him.”

She raises an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

Kira nods and then gets up again. “I’m gonna go see if I can borrow a laptop, I want to clear my name and get done with this as soon as possible.” She heads for the door and the stops, turning to look back at her over her shoulder. “I’m...tired of running. I just want my life back,” she adds quietly.

Malia watches her walk out, the door closing behind her and leaving her alone in the room. She ends up pacing around again, thinking. Kira’s story about her and Stiles didn’t really give her any justification on her suspicions about him, but at the same time she just couldn’t let it go that easily, no matter how hard she tries.

All she knows is, something is definitely not what it seems.

**

Allison lets Kira use her laptop to do whatever it is that she needs to do in order to find this Nogitsune dude. She tries to explain what she’s doing to Malia, but most of it flies over her head and she just ends up nodding absentmindedly while she texts Derek to inform him she’s okay. Tired and worn out, but okay. 

She also asks him if he can find background information on Stiles Stilinski.

Derek

Why? And what kind of name is Stiles?

Malia

the kind that cant be trusted

Derek doesn’t respond after that and she figures he’ll get back to her when he can.

Later that night, when they’re about to get some sleep, the bed issue rises again. It was different when Kira was drunk, sharing the bed wasn’t so awkward then, but now, Malia can clearly see the burning blush forming on Kira’s cheeks and she can’t tell whether it’s because she’s embarrassed or flustered.

She hopes it’s the latter though. “I can sleep on the floor,” she tells her, already grabbing one of the pillows.

“No!” Kira exclaims so suddenly that it makes Malia freeze in surprise. She fumbles, “I-I mean, it’s fine. We’re suppose to act like we’re dating right?”

“I’m your bodyguard, Kira,” She reminds her.

“Bodyguard or not, the floor is uncomfortable. Sleep on the bed.”

Malia tries to find the reluctance in her expression after she said that, but when she doesn’t, she shrugs and lies down, legs scrambled in the covers. Kira switches off the light, shrouding the room with darkness and Malia watches as she slides into the spot next to her and lies down, keeping her back facing her. And even as they’re both lying there in the darkness, Malia doesn’t go straight to sleep, and it’s kind of hard to anyways when she starts to see Kira’s body shiver under the covers from the cold. So, when she scoots over to Kira’s side and tries to wrap her arms around her, it’s not surprising when she tenses up from Malia’s sudden touch.

“W-What are you doing?” Kira stammers.

“Shut up. You’re cold and I’m trying to make you warmer.” Malia doesn’t let go of her and just pulls her in closer until Kira’s back is pressed up against her front and they’re spooning.

Kira body slightly relaxes then as she curls up against her, sharing body heat. “...You’re my bodyguard,” she says slowly.

“Bodyguard or not, I’m not going to let you freeze to death. Now go to sleep,” Malia says, not realizing that her words unintentionally echoed what Kira said before. She closes her own eyes then, because it’s been a long time since she’s actually slept in a bed this comfortable, but then suddenly, she hears Kira giggle. She opens one eye. “What are you giggling about now?”

She shuts up instantly. “Oh—nothing.”

Malia raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Wait, no.”

“No, you’re not sure?”

“No. I mean, um, I just wanted to tell you that you’re a really great bodyguard.”

Malia hasn’t heard that one before. “That’s because I’m the only bodyguard you’ve ever had.” And even though she can’t see her, she knows Kira’s smiling.

“Yeah, I know.”

And with those words, they end up falling asleep in each other’s arms.

**

In the middle of the night, Malia wakes up really needing to pee.

Grumbling, because she’s going to have to get out of the warmth of the bed and slip out of her grip around Kira, she quietly makes her way out of the room, practically tip-toeing towards the bathroom across the hall. But before she can even reach it, she hears a muffled voice coming from the kitchen.

“...How many times have I told you not to trust a fox?”

The words grab her curiosity more than enough and she finds herself descending down the stairwell cautiously, not wanting to get caught snooping around. When she reaches the bottom step, the whole living room is scoured with darkness, but there’s a trickle of moonlight flooding through the open window in the kitchen allowing her to see a tall lanky figure standing near the sink, talking to someone on the phone. His back is to her but she doesn’t need to see his face to know that it’s Stiles.

“We’ll fool you. And then we’ll destroy you, so don’t try to double cross me,” she hears him say. His voice sounds different to her, and it’s not just because he’s trying to speak lower so no one hears him, but it’s also because of the way his words and tone force a shiver down her spine.

Suddenly, Stiles turns and Malia feels her heart skip a beat as she quickly hides underneath the staircase. She doesn’t hear him continue talking to whoever it is he’s talking to, and she can just imagine him looking towards the living room, wondering whether or not he saw someone standing there.

And just when she thinks she’s going to get caught, she hears him speak again.

“Sunrise. Same place. Same time. Bring the money and we’ll bring her. And if anything goes wrong…,” he pauses and then lets out a laugh that makes the back of the hair on Malia’s neck stand up. “You’ll be in something that’s easy to get into, but hard to get out of.”

Trouble, Malia thinks. And then she sucks in a breath, wondering what Stiles meant by her, but she feels like she already knows exactly what he meant by it and she just doesn’t want to admit it to herself. After he hangs up, Malia turns to peek around the corner to see if it’s safe enough for her to creep back upstairs, but before she can she hears someone else coming down.

“Stiles?” It’s Allison. She walks right past where Malia’s hiding and into the kitchen. “You weren’t in bed, what are you doing down here?”

“Can’t sleep,” he says easily. “Can’t seem to sleep at all nowadays, actually.”

“I’ve noticed. Maybe I’m gonna have to drag you down to the field and use you as target practice, hm?” There’s giggling then, followed by a few distinct noises that sounds like they’re kissing.

After a few moments, they walk out together again, and Malia waits for them to head upstairs and hear the door of their room close before getting out from her hiding place. She can hear the blood pounding in her ears as she stands there in the darkness, trying to make sense of what just happened.

And she realizes, her suspicions were right all along.

**

When Malia goes back to the guest room, she shakes Kira awake so hard that the girl almost falls off the bed.

“Malia! What the heck?!” Kira exclaims rather loudly, and Malia immediately puts a finger to her lips.

“Shh,” she hisses. “Hurry up and pack your things. We’re getting out of here.” She’s already reaching for their bags, tossing Kira her duffel as she sits up in bed.

“Getting out of here? But why?”

Malia doesn’t know what’s the easiest or most gentle way to tell Kira what’s going on, so she tells her straightforwardly. “Stiles is planning on handing you over for money. He doesn’t think you’re innocent, or even if he does, he doesn’t care. Now let’s go.”

Kira doesn’t move. She looks like she’s in disbelief and she probably is, since hearing that one of her closest friends is going to betray her would make anyone go into disbelief.

But they don’t have time to be in shock or even ask questions, and Malia’s glad when Kira does neither and instead starts grabbing for her stuff as well. But as soon as they leave the room, Kira tugs on her hand, stopping her.

“I need to tell Scott.”

Malia looks at her with wide eyes. “Are you insane?”

Kira looks conflicted. “I can’t just leave without letting him know. He’s my friend...”

“If he’s really your friend,” Malia says, while intertwining their fingers together, “then he’ll understand why you had to go.” She stares into Kira’s dark eyes, waiting for an answer, until the girl finally nods and squeezes her hand in response.

Then, while still holding hands, Malia leads Kira downstairs towards the garage where Bluebell is parked in. She switches on the light, flooding the neat little garage with a dim light as the two of them rush to dump their things into the trunk of the mustang. Malia can’t help but pat the hood of the car, smiling slightly to herself. “Don’t fail on me this time, girl,” she says as she taps her pockets for her car keys.

“Where are you guys going so late at night?”

They were in such a hurry that they didn’t even realize when the door had opened again and when Allison appeared. It makes the two girls freeze in their footsteps as the brunette stares at them, confused.

“Um, we’re, uh—”

“We need to go,” Malia says, and Kira stares at her with wide eyes, thinking she’s going to tell Allison everything, but she knows better than that. “We...found out who the Nogitsune is so we’re going there now. Before we, um, lose him again.”

Allison nods in understanding and walks towards them, curling a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh. Well...By all means, you two should definitely go...If it means Kira can finally clear her name, absolutely. But, the trip back to Beacon Hills after is probably going to be a long one, and I think I have some water bottles and other supplies you guys can take along.” She gives them an assuring smile and a sigh of relief passes through Malia and Kira both as they thank her.

While Allison searches for the supplies in the corner with Kira’s help, Malia still can’t find her car keys. “I think I left my keys inside, I’m going to go get them.”

“I think I saw them on the table in the living room,” Allison says over her shoulder.

Malia nods and heads back inside, careful not to wake anyone up. She can’t help but feel relief and glad that Allison didn’t turn out to be part of Stiles plan, because Malia doesn’t know what she would have done if she was. She walks into the dark living room, but doesn’t bother to turn on the light in fear she might wake one of the guys up. She feels around the table instead like Allison said, but can’t find anything, and the stranger part is that Malia doesn’t even remember leaving her keys here in the first place.

And maybe, that’s the biggest mistake she makes.

“Looking for these?”

Allison emerges from the shadows of the room, breaking the silence as a slightly mischievous smiles plays on her lips. In one hand, she jingles Malia’s car keys, and in the other, an electroshock weapon.

And Malia can’t help but think that one of them is for her, and it’s definitely not the keys.

“You’re in on his plan, aren’t you?” She finally says, jaw clenching. “You want to sell Kira out too huh? To who? The police? The Nogitsune?”

Allison smirks and then laughs, and it’s almost as horrifying as when Malia heard Stiles do it. “You really don’t know anything, do you? And we were starting to think you were actually a threat. But turns out, you’re just stupid.”

“...What the hell are you talking about?”

The brunette steps forward and that’s when Malia hears it. The clunking of boots. And when she looks down and sees them in the trickle of moonlight that floods through the window, she realizes they’re the same boots that the person that followed them in Woodland was wearing. Malia’s eyes widen, “It was you. You were the one who was fucking following—”

But before she can even finish, she winces loudly, because Allison just jabbed her roughly with the electroshock weapon, stunning Malia and making her fall to the ground, paralyzed and unable to move. “You bitch,” she hisses, pain shuddering through her whole body as the words leave her mouth.

Allison just grins. “Never trust a fox, remember?”

And before Malia can throw another insult at her, the brunette kicks her in the face harshly, making her black out.

**

When she wakes up again, someone’s shaking her shoulder forcefully.

“Hey, wake up!”

Malia opens her eyes slowly, her vision blurry but then coming to focus as she finds a familiar crooked jawed face staring at her. “Scott…?” she mumbles, as she tries to move but everything stings.

Scott helps her up to her feet. “What happened to you? Who did this?”

The room is filled with light, and she realizes that it’s morning. She was knocked out for the whole night, and remembering exactly what happened the night prior with Allison’s deceit, Malia pushes herself away from Scott a little. She couldn’t trust anyone right now. Who knows, maybe he was in on the plan too.

The plan. Kira. Malia’s eyes widen, “Where’s Kira? And Allison and Stiles?”

Scott looks just as lost as she is. “I don’t know, all I know is they’re all gone and your car is gone too and—”

“Bluebell’s gone?” Malia’s running past Scott now, not caring if every bone in her body hurts everytime she moves, as she heads into the garage and realizes Scott’s right. Her mustang is nowhere in sight. Fuck.

She’s rushing back into the kitchen now, Scott following behind her and interrogating. “Should I be worried and calling the police?”

Malia’s grabbing for her phone, ready to call up Derek and Cora. “Yeah, call the police and tell them your best friend and his girlfriend kidnapped my clie—girlfriend.” She’s just about to dial Derek’s cell, when her eye catches a piece of paper on the counter, making her pick it up and read it.

Many have heard me, but nobody has seen me, and I will not speak back until spoken to. What am I?

If she wasn’t in this situation, the riddle would have made her snort. But it doesn’t, because that’s when she finally grasps that Allison and Stiles never planned to give her over to the police or the Nogitsune.

And that’s because they are the Nogitsune.

“Scott, actually scratch that,” Malia says, “call the police and tell them you know where The Vixen might be.”

**

An echo.

Malia unashamedly breaks into one of the cars on the neighborhood street, hotwires it, and drives off, heading towards the bay area. She goes alone, and that’s only because she told Scott to go to the police and that she’ll text him the information when she’s sure that she’s absolutely right in knowing where they’re holding Kira.

And she goddamn hopes she’s right.

She stops the car when she gets to a high cliff area that overlooks the bay, the perfect place to stand at the edge and shout your lungs out and hear the words resonate back at you. Glancing around the place, it’s isolated from everything else, and for good reason too, because all there is around here are a bunch of run down warehouses. One of the warehouses used to be a production house for military weapons back when who knows when, until it eventually shut down. And as Malia steps out of the car, she can still see the faded letters that once graced the building. Echo & Co.

She walks inside with nothing but her fists and a chinese ring dagger she stole from Allison’s house situated in her right boot.

It’s cold and dark inside, the air damp and musty, making her nose scrunch in disgust as she walks further through the place, never letting her guard down as her eyes dart around the place cautiously. She can barely see a thing, but her eyes adjust to the darkness fast and to what little light spills through the broken rafters of the roof, showing her the way, and she follows it, follows the morning light while silently hoping that Kira is safe.

A muffled scream suddenly resounds through the building, and Malia quickly whips around, dirty blonde locks hitting her in the face, blocking her vision momentarily, but then she sees her.

And it’s like the whole world stopped spinning and all Malia can see is her.

Kira’s strapped to a chair, her hands and feet tightly bounded with rope, and her mouth covered with a strip of tape, but even then she managed to scream through it all. Malia runs to her, kneeling down to try and untie her wrists and ankles, but the ropes are too tight, so she pulls out the dagger from her boot and slices at the ropes, loosening them a little. But then Kira keeps squirming and looking at her with wide eyes as if she wants to say something, so Malia carefully tears off the tape from her mouth, making her take deep rapid breaths before finally yelling, “Malia, behind you!”

She barely has time to turn around because before she knows it, she feels a harsh blow against the back of her head, a painful crack echoing through the air before she staggers backwards, the dagger falling from her hand as her vision goes blurry and she hears Kira scream. Her hand immediately rises to clutch the back of her head, her palm turning wet as blood seeped out, making her head spin as she lies on the floor. Although her eyes are unfocused, she catches the sight of someone standing before her, wearing a flannel shirt and holding a baseball bat now covered in her blood.

“Has anyone told you that you’re really bad at doing your job? I thought the Hales had more in them, but I guess not.”

Malia winces, but glares up at Stiles anyways. “Doing your dirty work yourself? Where’s your girlfriend? Doesn’t she want to join in on the fun too? There’s plenty to go around,” she hisses at him.

Stiles laughs and raises the bat again, and she flinches. He lowers it and laughs some more. “Pathetic.”

“Why are you doing this?” Malia finally asks as she sits up painfully. She’s no hero, but saying those words, she sure sounds like it. “For the money?” She can see Stiles more clearly now and he looks eerie and like he hasn’t slept in days, and maybe he hasn’t. There’s dark circles under his eyes and his pupils are dilated as if he’s just smoked a few blunts. His hair stands up all over the place, and when he looks down at her, smirk on his face and baseball bat in his hand, he looks like a psychopath.

Like her father was.

“If it was for the money,” he says, “then I would have already fled the country by now. I wouldn’t have to kill all those people to get the money. But what’s the fun in that?”

“So blaming an innocent person, who’s also your friend, is what you consider fun? You’re sick. And insane,” Malia spat viciously.

“Shut up!” Stiles swings the bat again, and it hits her across the face this time, making her fall to the ground with another painful wince, but she doesn’t stop there.

“Those people didn’t deserve to die,” she says, blood spilling from her mouth, the anger spurring out of her like a vengeance, because as Stiles comes closer to her, she imagines her father, and what she really wants to say is, my mother didn’t deserve to die. “It should have been you! You, on the floor, the blood pouring out of you, while you gasp for your fucking life. It should have been you. Not them. Not h-her.” She feels herself slowly start to lose consciousness as everything starts to spin around her again. Despite it, she sees Stiles raise the bat again, and she thinks, she’s going to die.

She’s going to die just like her mother did.

She’s not the type to give up, not the type to go down without knocking the other person out first, but this time, she can’t. Her eyes flutter tiredly close instead, and she waits for another blow, another hit, another painful cracking of her bones, but it never comes. Instead, she hears an aching shout that isn’t from her, and it makes her open her eyes again, only to find Stiles on the ground, the back of his shirt sliced open and stained crimson with blood. His body trembles and all Malia can do is stare at him, stare at those dark brown eyes of his that are full of nothingness, before she finally tears her gaze away to look at her savior.

Kira stands like a lion-heart, a warrior, the morning light gleaming behind her like a halo, and she shines like hope to Malia. Clenched fiercely in her hands is the sharp blade of a katana now drenched in blood, and Malia vaguely remembers when she told her that she knows how to wield one, and it brings a weak smile on her lips. When Kira finally turns her gaze over to her, their eyes lock for a few seconds before Malia starts to feel faint again.

Everything goes black, and she hears someone scream, most likely Kira running to her side because she falls into someone’s warm, gentle hold before she falls unconscious.

And the last thought she remembers having is that she wishes someone could have saved her mother too.

**

The next time Malia wakes up, she’s in the hospital with ten different IVs attached to parts of her body.

It freaks her out, because she hates hospitals and she quickly tries to sit up, ignoring the pain that surges through her body as she grabs one of the IVs, ready to rip it off, when—

“Don’t even try.”

She looks up and Derek stands by the door, arms crossed and brooding.

“When did you get here?” She asks, eyes narrowed.

He walks over and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “When I found out you got your head rammed into the floor by a baseball bat. Got on to the next flight as soon as I could. The doctor said you fractured your skull in three different places and broke your nose, so don’t even think about trying to escape.”

Malia groans as she lies back against the pillow, staring at the white washed walls, trying to remember what happened. And when she does, her eyes widen, “Wait—where’s Kira?! Is she okay?”

Derek lowers his gaze momentarily before glancing back up at her and letting out a sigh. “She’s... gone.”

Malia doesn’t understand. “What do you mean gone? Did Stiles and Allison take her?!”

Derek shakes her head. “No, Stiles and Allison were taken in custody...But.”

“But?”

“Kira was the one that called 911 and she stayed with you after the ambulance arrived. But when the police came, she was already gone.”

She blinks in disbelief. “And no one knows where she went…?”

Derek shakes his head.

Malia doesn’t know what to think. “But why...would she just leave like that? I don’t get it.”

“I don’t know,” he says, getting up. “But what I do know is that you need rest. If you need anything, I’ll be outside.”

She nods and after Derek leaves, she lies back down on the uncomfortable hospital bed and contemplates. She can’t seem to wrap her mind around why Kira would run away again, if the police already brought Stiles and Allison into custody. She thinks it’s possible that other people might still be after her, but even if it is that, Malia doesn’t understand why Kira didn’t stay and ask for help from her or Derek or Cora or someone from the bodyguard agency. They could have helped her. Frowning to herself, she tries to stop thinking about the girl, realizing that if Kira wants to run away, she might as well. “Why do I care so much anyways?” she mumbles to herself, “she was just a client. That’s it." 

But no matter how hard Malia tries to tell herself it’s just that, she knows that it’s much more than just that. 

She closes her eyes to maybe drift back to sleep, but just as she feels sleep overwhelm her, her phone buzzes on the bedside table. She groans and grabs it, almost forgetting she still has a phone in the first place. Checking her notifications, she sees that it’s a message from an unknown number. Raising an eyebrow, she reads it.

Malia,

i’m sorry for leaving without saying anything. i kinda didn't have a choice because believe it or not, its still dangerous for me out there. im leaving malia, and i wish i could tell you where im going, but i can’t. i hope you can understand that. thank you for helping me and im sorry for putting you in such a mess. i hope one day i’ll be able to see you again. but until then, take care of yourself.

Kira

P.S: told you i can use a katana :)

The smiley face at the very end of the message makes her want to smile but at the same time, she also wants to cry. And because she hates having these conflicting feelings, she tries dialing the number, hoping to hear her voice one more time, just one more time, but after three rings, she’s redirected to an operator that tells her that the number is no longer in use.

“Damn it!” Clenching her teeth, she tosses her cellphone across the room, making it hit the wall forcefully before breaking into pieces.

**

3 MONTHS LATER

“Who would have thought Derek would be getting married,” Malia jokes, slipping on those stupid nude heels, that are almost as stupid as the dress she’s wearing. She doesn’t do heels. Or dresses.

Cora chuckles. “True, but I think him and Lydia fit well together. She does enough talking for the both of them.”

Malia grins as she walks awkwardly to the full body mirror in the hallway, checking to see how she looks. Staring at her reflection, she realizes she doesn’t look that bad. The peach dress that Lydia picked out for her fits her well, showing off her curves, and her hair, which is much shorter now, is simply down and barely reaching her shoulders. She definitely thinks she looks good, even if these heels she’s wearing make her walk like a damn penguin.

“How is that dress and heels doing for you anyways?” Cora asks.

Malia groans, “It’s cute but I want to rip it off of me like right now.”

“That’s a $200 dress. Lydia will hate you forever.”

“I know.” She turns to grab her keys off the counter before heading towards the front door of the loft. “Alright, I’m leaving right now, so I’ll probably be there in like an hour—” Her words trail off as soon as she opens the door, because standing in front of her is Kira.

“H-hey, Malia,” she says slowly.

Malia almost drops her phone. Good thing she doesn’t though, she broke her last one three months ago. “I-I’ll call you back, Cora,” she quickly says through the receiver before hanging up. She then completely focuses on Kira, blinking at her, as if trying to convince herself she’s dreaming, and when Kira doesn’t disappear in her field of vision, she opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. So Malia just stands there and gawks.

Kira smiles shyly and Malia notices the way her eyes give her a quick once over, and she feels her face start to burn a little. “You’re wearing a dress…,” Kira says, “and your hair is shorter. It looks really nice.”

Now, she’s blushing. “Thanks..Um, why don’t you come inside?” Malia says, opening the door wider to let her step in.

Kira nods and walks through, watching as Malia closes the door and walks past her towards the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink? I have cold beer,” she says, trying her best to ignore the fact that this is the first time she’s seeing Kira after three months. After three months of trying to forget her face, her smile, the way her arms felt wrapped around her…

“Wait,” Kira suddenly says, grabbing her hand and making her stop. Malia turns towards her, looking down at the way their hands are joined. “Don’t you...want to know why I’m here?”

Malia wants to say no, wants to say she doesn’t care, but in reality, she cares too much. And that’s why she asks, “Why are you here? Why..Why did you leave?” She can hear the worry, the confusion in her voice when she says it out loud like that, and she knows Kira can hear it too.

Kira slowly lets go of her hand and fiddles with her own fingers. “I went back to Japan to see my dad,” she starts, “It was also the first time I visited my mom’s memorial after she died. I...stayed with my dad for three months, just...trying to cope with everything that happened. I left because too many things happened and I couldn’t handle it, Malia. I felt...lost.”

Malia watches as her face screws up like she’s going to cry, and Malia just wants to wrap her up around her arms and never let her go. If Kira cries, it might just break her. “Why did you come back?”

She blinks away tears and tries smiling. “I..I got a job to work with the police’s criminal intelligence unit here. They know I’m innocent, and they think The Vixen’s services might be of some use to the police. Well, I had to change my name since The Vixen sounded too suggestive for them, so I’m Foxfire now. Which I like much better, to be honest.”  

Malia’s lips can’t help but twitch in a smile at her words. Kira’s happy, and she’s happy for her.

“But that’s not the only reason I came back,” Kira continues, nervousness seeping into her voice now. “I..I came back for you, because the truth is, I really really like you, Malia, and I tried to run away from my feelings because you were my bodyguard and I always thought you would never like a girl like me, but I couldn’t run away from my feelings, and that’s why I’m here, and gosh this is so weird, I know, and if you want me to leave, that’s totally understandable too—”

Malia doesn’t give Kira a chance to finish though, because she walks over to her, cupping her face in her hands before finally pressing her lips against hers. They kiss slow and sweet at first until Malia can’t take it anymore and she wraps her arms around Kira’s waist, pulling her closer until she’s pressed up against the line of her body. The kiss turns more fervent as Malia can’t get enough of the way Kira’s lips taste, the way her body feels against hers, as she pulls her closer—as close as she can get her.

When their lips finally part, Kira looks dazed and there’s a bright blush staining her cheeks as Malia looks down at her, grinning, as she leans her forehead against hers. “God, why are you so damn adorable,” she says, and Kira laughs, embarrassed. “And how could you even think that I wouldn’t like you? I like everything about you, idiot.”

The blush deepens on Kira’s cheeks after hearing those words and she bites down on her lip shyly. “I like everything about you too…,” she says softly, and then almost a whisper, “can we, um, kiss again?”

Malia’s smile grows wider. “Absolutely.”

This time, Kira leans up on her tip-toes and lets her lips brush against Malia’s, opening up to her sweetly, and they kiss again and again, because there’s still three hours until Derek’s wedding and Malia figures that’s just enough time to get used to the way Kira feels in her arms, against her skin, in her bed with their legs tangled together.

And for the first time in a long time, Malia thinks she’s finally found home, where she’s safe and sound.