Chapter Text
2 Years Ago
Jen swung their legs from the playground platform, giggling to themself as they looked over the lot, Stiles at her side.
The hot summer sun was burning down their neck, occasionally assuaged by tall trees that waved in front of it, like a blinking eye, and the cool breeze that wafted in from the pond nearby that cooled sweat on her brow. It’d been a good day, all things considered. Doing nothing but laze around on her bed, watch a movie. Then Stiles had shown up and demanded a day out since lacrosse camp was coming soon.
With Taliesin over the pond in Japan for the summer, and Scott doing some early training in the hopes that it’d help him get a leg up on the others, that just left Jen and Stiles to spend the day together. And despite the heat, they’d wandered to the park all of them had spent most of their childhood at.
Jen remembered running through the woodchips, always digging them out of her shoes, and messing around on the swings and demanding Stiles push her higher. They remembered chasing Scott with long sticks and pretending they were swords, and Stiles the princess stuck in the tower— the tallest slide on the playground.
They remembered Taliesin, at the ripe age of five years old, and watching her in awe as she tackled the boy who’d kicked over their sandcastle. Jen remembered her wild hair, the strangely yellow eyes that were only truly brown in the deepest shade, and the apple-red flush high on her cheeks as she shrieked at the boy for being a bully. Jen’s mom had even caught the moment on camera by accident before rushing over with about ten other moms, drawn in by the commotion.
She still had that photo taped to their mirror.
But now, with high school looming over their heads like a dark cloud, Jen only wanted to remember how free everything had felt when they were just little kids. Kids whose greatest tears were caused by a scraped knee or no desert after dinner.
So, on the day before most of Stiles’ time was consumed by lacrosse, they spent the day running up and down the playground just like they did back then. Playing pretend. Instead this time, they weren’t six years old imagining how their lives would be when they were grown up, but fourteen year olds pretending that all their fears and anxieties could be defeated with wooden sticks and foot races from the slide all the way down to the pond, where the frogs croaked and the dragonflies skipped across the water.
And when the sun began to kiss the treetops, her and Stiles retired to the top of the playground, kicking their legs up and down and pretending the drop below them was farther than it really was.
Beside them, Stiles huffed and tilted his head, cheeks flushed and forehead sticky with dried sweat. “Can’t believe we’re going into high school,” he snorted, kicking the woodchips from when his shoes barely scraped the ground. “You think it’ll be better than the hellhole that was middle school?”
Jen’s feet dangled, not anywhere near to the ground as Stiles’ were after his growth spurt. She laughed, “maybe. I mean, it’d be hard to beat, hm?”
“And that was just three years,” he rolled his eyes. “Imagine what could happen in four?”
“Crazy that we’re so close.” Jen sighed, tilting until they were leaning against the metal pole holding up the platform. “Feels like it was just yesterday Taliesin had to beat your back when you swallowed a rock on accident. Or was that actually yesterday,” she teased.
“I’ll have you know that five-year old me thought that rock looked like candy!”
“It looked like a rock.”
He turned up his nose, his arms crossed over his chest, and sneered, leaving Jen in a fit of giggles. “Well then it was a very good tasting rock.”
Jen laughed harder, curling forward until she had to grasp the pole to make sure she didn’t fall off the play structure.
“I can’t believe”— Jen cackled, wiping at her eyes— “that you’re going into high school.”
Stiles snorted again, rolling his eyes and keeping them heavenward as he leaned back on his hands. “Me neither.”
Off behind the trees, at home in the water, a group of frogs croaked, singing their lullabies as the sun continued to wink behind the waving leaves and the crickets peeped out from under rocks and roots. A few cicadas, hidden in the bark and amongst the weeds, shrilled loud into the air.
With the golden sun bathed across their hands and shining over the tops of their heads like a halo, the air was tinged with a held breath, lungs caught in freeze frame. Then, slowly, exhaled on the currents of the cool, afternoon breeze.
“You know,” Stiles started, “I still feel like a kid. Shocking, I know. But…” he shook his head, exhaling softly through his nose. “I thought that high school meant you’d feel a little bit more like a grown up. I don’t feel like a grown up at all. Just taller.”
Jen felt a smile tug at their lips. “Well, lucky you. I haven’t grown an inch!”
His and her soft laughter lifted into the air, full in the empty playground.
“But, no, I get what you mean,” they said, after the laughter had faded easily into comfortable silence. “Still. I think we are kids. At least a little. We’re fourteen, not forty,” she chuckled, bumping shoulders with him.
He chuckled too, the sound infectious when it came from her. “Well, I’ve been fourteen longer than you have,” he teased.
“A few months hardly makes a difference!”
“I’m pretty sure it does. After all,” he nodded sagely, “I am a foot taller than you.”
She shoved him, sending him cackling even harder as he bumped against a pole. “That’s just genetics, dickhead!”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Yuh-huh!”
“Nuh-uh!”
“Yuh-huh!”
Again, their laughter rose high and full into the air as Jen shoved Stiles fully down the stairs. He rolled down with a wide grin and rosy cheeks, staring up at her from the bottom like he was a firefly gazing at them through their cupped hands. Leaning on her hands, Jen glared down teasingly. Then she blew a raspberry at him that threw the both of them back into a bout of peeling laughter so loud it scared off a few grazing rabbits that’d crept out of the underbrush a few moments before.
When it faded again, as all laughter did when there wasn’t enough breath to sustain it, the mood was both lighter and heavier than it was before.
Pulling himself back up, but settling down a step under Jen as she pulled her legs up to sit cross-legged, Stiles sighed. The sound of it was almost content.
“I don’t know,” he shook his head softly. When he lifted his head, Stiles was looking at them like they could give the answers to the questions he was about to ask. “I just feel like I’m missing out on all these big milestones that everyone says we’re supposed to be having. I don’t know,” he said again, the word trailing to be caught by the gentle wind.
Jen leaned forward. “What do you mean?”
He groaned, hands jerking as he raised his shoulders sharply. “I haven’t even kissed anyone yet!” Stiles fell back, head falling onto the top of the platform as he covered his face. “Fourteen and I haven’t even had my first kiss yet. That’s loser behavior.”
Snorting a little at his dramatics, she leaned over to shake his shoulder. “Oh, shut up.” He peaked out at her from between his fingers. She rolled her eyes, sighing mutedly behind her pressed lips, “of course you’re worrying over that.”
His scoff turned into a little pout that made them snicker before she pulled themself together.
“But,” they sighed, “if it makes you feel better, I haven’t kissed anyone either. It’s not that big of a deal, you know. I’m not sure why you care so much.”
Stiles twisted on his side so he could prop his head up. His pout was still heavy on his lips as he muttered, “I just don’t want to seem like a loser who doesn't get any.”
Jen rolled their eyes again. “You’re fourteen. Of course you’re not ‘getting any,’” they quoted, then crossed their arms. “Also, are you saying I’m a loser?”
“No,” he scoffed, “I don’t think you’re a loser. Besides, it’s different for you since you're pretty. You’ll probably get your first kiss the second you walk through the school doors.” He muttered offhandedly, like it was the easiest thing in the world to say. To believe.
Her fingers tapped idly on the platform, feeling a confusing mix of disbelief and what felt like pride swirling in their stomach. It’s not like Stiles didn’t hand out compliments, but it was never like this. He called them awesome or cool or smart. Not pretty. No one really called them that except Taliesin and her parents.
It didn’t quite make her smile, but the compliment still warmed her cheeks and caused the corner of her lips to twitch as she turned away. “Thanks,” they muttered softly, “for calling me pretty. But it’s not like I really care anyway. It’s just a kiss,” they lied. They definitely cared.
But not as much as Stiles.
He sagged against the stairs, face settled in what he must’ve thought was carefully neutral, but was instead… a little pathetic. This whole ‘first kiss’ business definitely meant a lot more to him than Jen had thought. Which meant Jen should probably help with that.
“I could be your first kiss, if you want,” they said quickly, without even really thinking.
He blinked, then turned up to them slowly. “Really? Are you sure?” He started hesitantly, then brighter when she didn’t back off. Stiles leaned closer, his excitement inching him up. “It won’t be weird?”
She scoffed, fighting down the heat that was burning at the tip of her ears that had nothing to do with the sun on their backs. “It’s only weird if you make it weird, you weirdo.”
Stiles laughed, eyes so bright it was like they were mirrors reflecting the sun. “Hey! Don’t call me a weirdo when you’re the one who—”
Before they could psyche themself out, Jen cut him off quickly, leaning in to give him a quick, chaste peck on the lips that was really more like a brush.
When they pulled away, Stiles spluttered and tugged at the sleeve of their shirt with a whine. “Hey! That was way too fast!”
“Too bad,” they snorted. “I told you it’s not that big of a deal. You just hyped it up too much.”
“Nooo!” He whined, dragging himself closer to them and making her giggle. “That doesn’t count! I want a do over.”
They leaned away, pushing at his shoulder while he glared up at her hopefully. “I am not kissing you again! Besides, I don’t think you can have a redo on your first kiss, otherwise everyone would be doing it.”
Stiles continued to whine and pout. Like a child. “Please! I want another one!”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Please!” He begged, shuffling even more into her space while she fought down another burst of laughter. “Please, please, please—!”
Jen slapped a hand over his mouth, but that didn’t stop his insistent begging. Even going so far as to hold his hands up like he was in church. He groaned, shoving their hand off as an idea sparked behind his eyes.
“I’ll buy you ice-cream for a month if you do.”
That got them to reconsider. Ice-cream. For a whole month. It’s not like Jen bought ice-cream for themself often, what with their friends there to pay for her, but still…
She raised a considering brow. “No take-baksies?”
He shook his head. “Promise!” He held out his pinky finger, wiggling it in the air with a grin. “So? Do we have a deal?”
Well… it was supposed to be the hottest summer they’d get in the next few years.
They twisted pinkies.
“Fine,” they huffed, smiling. “But you kiss me, that way it’s not my fault if you don’t like it. And even if you don’t like it, you can’t go back on your deal. No take-baksies!” They reminded him.
He placed one hand on his heart and raised the other into the air. “The pinky promise is a very sacred oath indeed, madame.” He leaned in. “No take-baksies.”
Rolling their eyes but still grinning, Jen stayed in place, watching as Stiles slowly began to close the distance. The cicadas were singing high into the air now, a pleasant buzz that accompanied the sound of crickets and the occasional croak of a frog that jumped around its pond. And the sun, now beginning to set, flitted between trees and dancing leaves, bathing everything golden.
Close enough that Jen could discern all the shades of brown in his eyes, Stiles brought a slow hand to cup their face. His fingers trailed from the crest of their cheekbone to the corner of their mouth, the heat of his hand so close but never settling, until they went back to cradle her, his palm rough from practice and play against the soft skin of their cheek.
Stiles closed the rest of the distance.
It lasted longer than Jen’s did, pressed more intently too. A little awkward, kind of dry, but there was a kind of passion and earnestness to it that made her heart jump in her chest, rattling against the bars of their rib cage.
He held himself there for a moment. Two. Then they parted, pausing when they could share breath across each other's lips, before leaning back the rest of the way.
Their hand was already halfway up to their lips before Jen stopped themself, flushing brightly and turning away so that the shadows fell across their face.
“So…” Stiles coughed after the silence stretched on almost too long. He tried for a smile, hesitant and unsure, as he asked, “was it good? For you?”
They glanced at him from the corner of their eye, then away again. “Yeah,” they nodded, voice quiet. “And… for you? Was that good enough?”
The golden sun nearly masked the flush that also rose to his cheeks, but not quite. He continued to smile, shifting from unsure to quiet contentment. “Yeah,” he answered softly, “it was good.”
She nodded back awkwardly, teeth tugging at the bottom of their lip and scraping off the dead skin.
Together they sat in silence, blushing and exchanging awkward glances, opening their mouths to start a conversation that died before it started. Jen cringed, the flush on their cheeks burning now with embarrassment. Stiles seemed to be the same, fidgeting with a loose thread that’ll definitely unravel into a huge tangle a week from now.
Ugh, they hated this— this stupid feeling. It was dumb, fluttering in shy silence like a bunch of elementary kids with crushes.
They huffed, standing abruptly and making Stiles fumble. “Let’s get ice-cream,” she demanded, already trekking down the stairs.
“W-what? Now?” He stumbled after her.
“It’s hot!”
He tripped over a stair and caught himself with a laugh. “Already planning to bleed me dry?”
She turned and walked backwards, pinky finger held high. “Hey, you did promise.”
“Fine,” he huffed, bumping their shoulder. “I guess I’ll honor it.”
Jen laughed, but it quickly faded as they walked to the ice-cream shop. Even when Stiles tried to start a conversation again, it was fairly one-sided. Her mind was… somewhere else.
It was that kiss. It lingered. On their lips, in their mind. Stuck on a loop, a filter that overlaid how she saw him. Focusing on the brightness of his eyes, the pull at his smile as he talked at her. It focused on the moles that peppered his skin, the gentleness when he pulled them in for that kiss. It made him… fuller. Like a coloring book finally filled out.
Handsome, was the word her mind whispered to her. Handsome.
When they walked into the ice-cream shop, even Sandra noticed Jen’s uncharacteristic cold silence. Even asked if they were alright. Which, she was. Just… processing.
They were quick, grabbing their ice-cream and immediately heading for the doors as Stiles paid in a rush to catch up to them.
Their shadows were long on the sidewalk, and the cicadas were almost deafening. It was almost welcome, drowning out the sound of Jen’s own thoughts as they stirred at their ice-cream. They pretended to be focused on not letting it drip down their hand, using that as an excuse to ignore Stiles, but it was a shoddy excuse and she knew it. Stiles knew it too, and let the conversation go, reverting to meaningless chatter that ebbed and flowed as he wanted. It filled the silence comfortably, at home with the cicadas.
“You know,” Stiles addressed them again as they meandered down their neighborhood, “you could come over to my place. Day’s not over yet!” He said brightly, but they could both tell that his heart wasn’t fully in it. “We’ll watch a movie. Or we could rent one out! It’s a little ways behind us, but it won’t take that long to drop by and come back.”
His spoon scraped at his empty cup.
“Or… not.” He muttered. “You don’t have to.”
Jen sighed mutedly, staring at her ice-cream. Only a little bit of it was still solid.
“Sorry,” she said, glancing at him apologetically, trying to at least comfort him that their mood wasn’t his fault, even if it kind of was. “I’m just not feeling that well. I think it’s the heat.”
“Oh! Well, at least you have a full month of free ice-cream!”
That made them chuckle, a rough exhale through the nose that brought a smile to their face. “You did pinky promise.”
“And it’s a sacred promise!” He laughed, grin as bright as the setting sun behind him as they stopped in front of her house.
For a moment, no longer than a few seconds, the image of him burned itself in her mind. Stiles, lanky limbed and the light haloing around him, eager and focused, an empty cup of ice-cream in his hand gripped like an ancient scroll.
(This will be one of many times where a memory would stay with Jen, but it feels important to remember that it started here.)
Stiles coughed lightly, fumbling with the little plastic spoon. “Well, then,” he started, eyes hopeful, “I’ll see you soon? Ugh, what am I saying?” He groaned, pinching the back of his hand. “I won’t be gone forever, we’ll find time to hang out.”
With a trembling smile, Jen punched him lightly in the shoulder, edging back toward the door. “Rude. Remember Stilinski, free ice-cream. For. A. Month!” They poked him with every word.
“Rude!” He parrotted back at her, rubbing where she jabbed him. “You’re gonna bleed me dry!”
She laughed again, more genuine as he walked away.
“That’s the plan!”
The rest of the evening continued on in silence or in short words, half volume. Dinner wasn’t awkward, or stilted, but Jen could feel something heavy over the table. Or maybe it was just over their shoulders.
When they went up to bed, mind still reeling, they collapsed on their sheets and curled inward.
It was slipping by her, like fish down a waterfall. All these emotions that’d sprung up inside them like weeds from the moment Stiles had kissed them, to the moment he’d walked them to their door.
They turned on their back, staring at their ceiling blankly as her hands clenched and unclenched rhythmically.
Jen couldn’t like Stiles, they just couldn’t. He was their best friend. And he definitely wouldn’t like them back. He liked Lydia!
But as night came to overwhelm them, as it threw them gently into sleep and made her eyelids heavy, Jen knew it was a losing battle.
Present Day
Jen jolted, blinking rapidly as the bright ( seriously, why were they so bright?!) hospital lights practically flash-banged them.
They groaned, cracking their neck as they shifted in the waiting room chairs just outside Lydia’s room.
When they tried to sit up more to crack their back, they slumped back down into a slouch as Stiles leaned more heavily over them, his breath hot against her neck. They fought down a blush, only half successful, when they saw how close he’d gotten in his sleep.
He jerked a little, limbs twitching and his head tossed back and forth, before he settled with a snicker. “Mhm, you’re dirty,” he garbled out, twitching again.
The blush nearly came back full force when they realized he might be having one of those dreams, but it very quickly died when he turned again and began to gnaw at her hair.
She burst into quiet giggles, nudging Taliesin beside her and pointing to him when the other girl gave her a questioning stare. That was enough.
Tals snorted so loud that it woke Stiles up, making him jump practically a foot into the air before he settled in his seat, looking around blearily and also facing off against the offensively bright hospital lights. “Wha-? Wuzzit?”
Still snickering, cheeks tinged slightly pink, Taliesin leaned over her and flicked Stiles in the forehead. “Oh, nothing,” she sing-songed, “just that you were making quite the impression of a hamster.”
Only then did he notice the hair stuck to his cheek where he’d drooled in his sleep. He groaned, sinking into a deep slouch as he sputtered and wiped away Jen’s hair from his mouth.
“Ugh,” he muttered. “Sorry, Jen.”
Fighting down their own snickers, Jen nodded. “Don’t mention it. Seriously”
Tals nodded even more beside her. “Double seriously. Buuut, if you want to make it up to Jen…”
They shrieked as the other girl launched herself over them to dig into Stiles’ jacket, wriggling over them and sending Jen into a bout of laughter as the two fought. Or, Stiles struggled. Taliesin inevitably ended up on top.
“There,” she threw his wallet back at him. “Grab us some snacks, hamster.”
“What?!” He whined. “Didn’t we just eat a couple hours ago?”
“Exactly,” Tals drawled, “ hours, as in plural. Come on!” She twisted in her seat and kicked lazily at him. “Aren’t you hungry or something?”
Stiles grumbled but he stood. “Fine, I kinda wanted some chocolate anyway.”
“Atta boy! Get me some goldfish!”
Thumbing through a couple bills, Stiles turned to Jen expectantly. “You want any snacks?”
“No, I’m good. I’m not a blackhole like you and Taliesin.”
He shrugged, waiting a moment more in case they changed their mind. “Alright then, suit yourself.”
As he meandered away, Jen finally sat up and began to stretch, shaking out her fingers where she could feel pins and needles, then cracked their back with a satisfied groan.
“Damn,” they muttered, “remind me to never sleep in hospital chairs ever again. This sucks.”
Tals leaned in with a mischievous smile. “I think it’s a conspiracy on the part of the staff so they don’t need to deal with crazy visitors. No one wants a full hallway when you’re trying to rush off to some guy’s room, so they inflict crazy torture like uncomfy chairs and bright lights to drive visitors off.”
Grinning, Jen opened their mouth to reply, only to find their breath frozen in the recess of their throat, burning like a winter wind.
It crawled through their esophagus, permeating through bone and marrow, imbedding itself deep in tissue and poking outward through skin.
Goosebumps raced up her arm.
Their chest was rising and falling, lungs expanding and collapsing inward, but it felt like Jen couldn’t breathe. There was no air, just motion. There was no heart beat, just animation. It felt like the beginnings of a panic attack.
Her rand shot down to cradle Taliesin’s in a death grip, knuckles whitening.
“Jen?” Tals turned to them. “What’s wrong? Is something happening?”
There was no explaining what was wrong, it just was. Something was just wrong. Wrong in the air, wrong in her skin, wrong in the ground beneath the linoleum. Wrongness in life:
Death.
A death that opened its eyes. A death that breathed air. A death animated for the first time.
Waking up.
But this was not the feeling of being watched from shadowed glades. Not the sharpness of claws or the gleam of rusting teeth. This was an inevitability. An is. A was. No maliciousness. No evil. No bad or even good. Just the period at the end of a sentence. Naturalness.
Neutral.
Jen looked down from the top of the bell curve. The plummet.
Echoing up from its bottom, from someone who was already descending from the slope, was a scream that curdled in Jen’s ears. It rattled in and through, echoed in their brain until they felt it begging to release itself from her own throat.
And it was Lydia’s.
On their feet, though Jen did not know when that’d happened, Stiles stumbled past them into Lydia’s room. As he passed, his shoulder knocked into hers and Jen found themself clear-headed, the scream tapering out though it still repeated itself to them as if through murky waters.
She blinked harshly.
Shaking off the rest of that… feeling, they stepped forward on trembling legs to look over Stiles’ shoulder, a steadying hand at her own back as Taliesin followed too. But when Jen looked in, they were faced with an empty room, a bathroom door left ajar, and an open window.
“Shit,” Taliesin groaned. “That’s not good.”
Frenzied, Jen whipped aside the privacy curtains in front of the window, as if that would reverse time or reveal the very non-Lydia type prank she was playing.
Stiles wandered over, hands on top of his head and a very panicked expression on his face. “She’s not here.”
“Uh, duh.” Taliesin replied meanly. “We kinda figured that out. Was there water in the shower?”
He made a face and spread his hands. “Why would I care about water in the shower?!”
She rolled her eyes, shoving him hard enough that he nearly toppled onto the bed. “Because it’s going to be freezing the next couple of nights and it’d help my urgency scale to know if she has clothes on or not. But besides that,” Tals placed her hands on her hips, brow raised in challenge, “we should carry extra jackets anyway in case we see her.”
Jen nodded, “yours would fit her the best.”
Stiles sighed, nodding too. “Well, there wasn’t any water in the shower, so I guess she’s still in her hospital gown.”
“It’s not much, but at least it’s something.” Tals said grimly.
“Well,” Jen softened their voice, huddling closer to the other two so they could hear. “If Lydia is a werewolf, it should be harder for her to get sick or something, right? She might last longer in this cold than any of us.”
“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, but worry was still etched into the tight line around his eyes. “But we should still hurry. We don’t know for sure if she’s turning into a werewolf.”
Taliesin’s eyes narrowed, a million thoughts racing being twin suns. “You make it sound like she could be turning into something else. I thought you either turn into a wolf, or you die.”
“Hm,” Stiles hummed, eyes jerking over in Jen’s direction, something indiscernible in his gaze. “Well, let’s at least make sure she doesn’t die.”
“Okay,” Jen nodded resolutely. “We’ll keep a look out.”
They left the room, edging around the nurses who’d run over to see what was happening and finding themselves left with nothing. As chaos began to bloom behind them, Jen tapped their finger against the center of their palm nervously.
They had to find Lydia. Fast.
No one ended up finding her that night. Not the cops, not the volunteers, and not them.
Jen had considered using the tracking spell, but none of their friends were game for it. Even after Jen tried to explain that they were fine and fully recharged. But, if she was being honest to themself, they weren’t entirely sure they could do it anyway. The first time she’d done it had been under Peter’s guidance and that wasn’t a memory they were trying to revisit anytime soon, but it also seemed as though Jen needed some kind of object that was special to Lydia, which— that wasn’t happening either. Not unless they wanted to break into the other girl’s house and play a guessing game.
Instead, they tried to use Scott to track her scent. Which was as ridiculous as it sounds.
Squished into the back of Roscoe with Allison and Taliesin on either side, Jen squirmed with a huff.
“I’m glad you're okay.” Allison said, squeezing her hand.
“This is it?” Scott held up the used gown that Stiles had robbed from the hospital. It still had some blood on it.
“Yeah, that’s it.” Stiles pulled the jeep into reverse, peeling out of the parking lot and driving wherever Scott’s nose directed them.
Which was the Hale house.
And wasn’t that terrifying. Watching from the trees as Scott dangled like raw lamb in front of the Argents. She still hasn’t forgotten their last interaction, and it rankled her. Jen wanted to show him just what she was capable of at full power. Remind them of the reasons why there were separate sects that handled their kind. Jen didn’t though. Only held back at Scott’s insistence and the knowledge that if they played their hand now, it could put everyone else in danger.
But still. It called to her.
In the new morning, when the screen of gray clouds made the early sun even dimmer, Jen rubbed the still heavy sleep from their eyes as they trudged out onto the field. Lacrosse practice waited for no one. Not even witches who spent the better part of the night in the middle of the woods.
Jen yawned and their jaw cracked. God, what they wouldn’t give for ten more minutes. Even five. Would Coach let her use his office to nap if they asked nicely?
Peeking out from another yawn, Jen stopped to stare. Then immediately broke out into a run.
“Isaac! Isaac!”
The boy went stiff before he turned around, as if he’d stopped himself from flinching just in time.
Skidding to a halt in front of him, Jen began to run their mouth off before they could stop themself.
“I’m so, so sorry!” They yelped, clasping their hands together. “We— I didn’t mean to leave you alone like that! I- there was just this whole… situation, and I had to go. I even ended up going to the hospital. Uh, here’s the bracelet too! If you don’t believe me.” They tugged their backpack forward, wrestling with the zipper before finally yanking the flimsy bracelet out with a triumphant yell. She shoved it into his hands as he gaped at them, jaw dropped as they continued to over explain without any signs of stopping.
“I totally would have texted you sooner to tell you, but I just woke up yesterday and I just” — they shook their head, coughing sheepishly— “I don’t know. I was just overwhelmed, I guess. But, uh, please trust me when I say that I didn’t mean for any of this to happen! I never would have left you alone like that on purpose, I promise! Pinky promise.”
With the childish need to be taken seriously, Jen held out their pinky finger. They chewed their bottom lip anxiously, watching as he watched her.
“Please?” They muttered, resolve wavering. “I- it’s not like you have to right now, but… forgive me?”
From her, his eyes flickered down to the worn bracelet they’d shoved into his hand. Slowly, almost delicately, his fingers curled over the tough paper.
“You really didn’t mean to,” he looked them in the eyes. “Did you?”
“No,” Jen answered. “Never. You’re, uh, you’re stuck with me now,” she chuckled sheepishly, “just so you know.”
He laughed, more exhale than actual laughter, but it was full of light relief anyway. With a gentle hand, he curled his pinky around hers.
“So,” he pulled away after a moment, “are you alright now? What’d you have to go to the hospital for?”
Another sheepish chuckle fell from her lips as she shoved their hands into their pockets. “I’m alright now, thanks. It was— I don’t know, just everything I guess. Lots’ve been happening.” They rocked on their heels, forcing a lightness into their voice that they didn’t really feel.
“You know, anxiety, depression, being locked in the school with a serial killer.” She shrugged off Isaac’s bulging eyes. “So when Lydia got hurt, I guess that was the last straw. I just passed out.”
He blinked mutedly before he finally responded with a very quiet, “oh.”
Jen cringed a little, mouth pulling thin. “Too much?”
Isaac shook it off immediately, but still a little bug eyed. “Maybe,” he huffed, a slight grin making his lips twitch. “But I’m glad you told me.”
“Yeah,” they agreed. “Me too. Oh, Taliesin’s sorry too,” they added. “She’ll tell you herself but since I’m here…”
Isaac hummed in understanding.
“Yeah,” they continued. “She felt really bad about it, but when she heard that I was in the hospital, uh, you know.” She shrugged. “She couldn’t help it.”
The last part was said fondly, more quiet than the rest.
Clearly Isaac caught it. But instead of renewed hurt like Jen predicted, all that appeared was complimentary fondness.
“Yeah,” he smiled. “That seems like her.”
It made Jen laugh. Well, seemed like Tals’ reputation for dropping anything for her friends was still strong.
More at ease now that Isaac had accepted her apology, Jen continued to make their way across the field at his side. But still, they weren’t totally at ease.
“Can I ask,” she began softly, glancing up, “about what happened to your eye?”
Unconsciously, Isaac began to reach for it before he caught himself and visibly forced himself to let it be. It made her want to reach for it too and make it better. Fawn over him like they did with Scott. Like they used to do with Stiles. It made them want to stand in front of him and make sure nothing hurt him ever again. Or make like it’d never happened in the first place.
They wanted to continue the line his hand had started and wipe away the bruise that branded his face. To cradle him and make sure he understood they’d never hurt him.
But even if that was something they could promise, it wasn’t something Jen could do. As she knew him, Isaac wouldn’t be comfortable with it— he wouldn’t find comfort in it. Not to mention the magic.
So she refrained.
Like nothing had happened, Isaac shrugged lazily, a forced nonchalance that made her stomach churn. “Lacrosse stick,” he sighed, like he was preparing himself to repeat it the entire day. “I was trying to fix it when it slipped and,” he mimed hitting himself in the face, complete with a silent ‘ouch’ that probably would’ve made anyone else laugh. “You know,” he chuckled.
If Jen didn’t know any better, she would’ve bought it. But she did know better and his attempt to act normal just made her more uncomfortable.
If he was this good at lying she wondered how many times he’s done it before.
She shook herself from her musings when the silence began to stretch. To distract the both of them and to lighten the mood, they smiled and asked, “you had fun at dance though, right?.”
He laughed, looking relieved at the change in subject. “Yeah,” he admitted with a smile. “A little overwhelming— actually, like, way overwhelming?” His voice came out high and strangled at the end, and Jen just knew he was thinking of Taliesin. Which was fair.
No one was immune to that kind of whirlwind.
“But, uh, no,” he laughed again, “I had fun.”
“Good,” Jen smiled back, knocking shoulders. “I’m glad.”
“Well, looks like Isaac forgave you.”
Jen grinned, sidling up and joining him as they walked through the halls. “Yeah, and thank God for that.”
“Pfft, God had nothing to do with it,” he scoffed. “Told you he would though.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Am I wrong?” Stiles laughed. He elbowed her, “you view him as a puppy, don’t you? With paws too big for his body?” He curled his fingers in, mimicking paws, and barked a little too loudly. Which drew too many eyes.
She shoved him, cheeks flushed red in embarrassment as they squeaked out, “enough of that! You’re so embarrassing sometimes you know! And no,” they huffed, “I do not!”
“Oh please, don’t deny it. You do the same thing with Scott sometimes.” He rolled his eyes, not meanly, but definitely a little mocking. “You know, both of them are teenagers who can take care of themselves. They don’t need to be babied.”
“Did anyone ever tell you you're an asshole with no empathy?”
Which was true… in some aspects. Jen knew he had empathy, quite a lot of it actually and she was consistently on the receiving end of it, but it wasn’t something he tended to exercise often to others. It was like a rare resource, and he hoarded it close to himself and for the others close to him. Which wasn’t a lot. She could count on both hands and have fingers left to spare. It seemed he was only reminded of it whenever one of them pointed it out, and even then it wasn’t like he listened.
The only person who could constantly make him practice the deep well of love and care he had stocked in his chest was no longer there. After her, only Jen and his dad could compare.
Scott… maybe.
He snorted, completely unabashed and unrepentant. “All the time.”
“Asshole,” she laughed, nudging him with their shoulder.
“Dickhead,” he responded in kind. Then threw an arm around them, tugging her to class as their laughter mingled in the halls.
Jen twirled their pencil between their fingers, the wood warm and used as Stiles mouthed off at Harris. Their other hand was propped up at the corner of their temple, curled fingers blocking the view she had of him as Stiles groaned and slumped, delivered the punishment of detention with Harris. She ignored the offended look he tried to share with her and tapped her pencil harder as they concentrated on the stupid quiz. Who the hell even gives out a pop quiz on a monday anyway? This fucking asshole.
To make it even worse Jen’s pencil accidentally fell to the floor, the eraser tip bouncing off the table and landing somewhere behind her.
Scrambling to catch it, Jen caught the sight of what looked like ink or dark blood dripping from Jackson’s nose as he darted out the door, Danny looking after him with brows drawn tight with concern.
“Ms. Tomonaga.”
She jerked themself back onto their seat, facing the board. “Yes?” She squeaked. She hated when he looked at them like that.
Mr. Harris raised a condescending eyebrow, lips thin and downturned. “Keep your eyes on your own test, please. Or would you like to join Mr. Stilinski in detention?”
They shook their head rapidly, gritting their teeth hard enough it felt like a molar was about to crack. “No sir.”
He nodded once and went back to his stupid fucking book.
Scribbling across the sheet, they withheld a groan. Fuck Harris and his stupid fucking pop quizzes, and his stupid detentions. Jen didn’t even do anything. But they still had to stay behind anyway since Stiles got detention too. Taliesin couldn’t drive them back, the other girl had other things to do, or so she said.
Jen blew across the paper, scattering the eraser shavings that nearly burned through the quiz. No, it’s fine. She’ll just do their homework in the library instead of procrastinating. Like always. No big deal.
Through their bangs, they glared up at Harris as he walked between the desks.
Fucking bullshit Chem teacher.
But as she continued to try and answer the quiz, they couldn’t help but feel that something was off about Jackson. It was obvious that he got the Bite from Derek, but his whole act didn’t add up. Their… sense, for the supernatural, couldn’t seem to focus on him. They’d assumed that when Jackson got the bite what they’d feel from him would make sense: something like locker rooms and sweaty socks. Typical douche bag aura. Instead it was like wearing glasses that didn’t match their prescription. When they tried to figure him out, all they felt was confusion and inner conflict. Like a drunken bar fight, hazy and hard to place.
Maybe what Jen was sensing was his body rejecting the Bite. But if it was, wouldn't he be dead by now?
She jolted herself out of their musings as Harris walked by their own desk. Biting on their bottom lip, they pushed their thoughts out of their head. They’ll have to come back to that later, right now she had to focus on not completely bombing this quiz.
“Hey.”
Jen groaned and rolled their head, body draped across the textbook they’d been trying to read for the last ten minutes.
Stiles grinned down at them, adjusting his bag across his shoulder. “Ready to ditch this place?”
They rolled off their seat, swiping their papers and books into their bag in record time. “God, am I.”
He snorted, shoving open the library doors and holding them for her like a true gentleman. “Did you even get anything done like you said you were going to?”
Math was done and… math was done. But at least that essay she had to do for English wasn’t due for another two weeks or so, so she could continue that one later. Everything else that was due was started anyway. Or started in the minimal sense. Fuck Chemistry though, she didn’t even bother putting their name on that.
Jen scoffed, shoving Stiles as they got to Roscoe. “What are you, my mom?”
“I don’t think your mom’s letting you crash funerals,” Stiles snickered.
They sighed, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“I can!” Stiles said brightly, throwing the jeep into reverse. “Shit is so fucked!”
She ended up watching the entire thing in the jeep, too nervous to get too close. Besides, that place was crawling with cops and security so there was no way they weren’t going to get caught. She did not need to get grounded again.
And of course they got caught, but then Uncle Noah got distracted by a call and the two made their escape.
“What’d you find out?”
Stiles didn’t wait for any of them to buckle up as he panted out all the details. Including the call about a disturbance in an ambulance.
Jen leaned forward, their back stiff with tension and goosebumps beginning to raise on their arms. “You don’t think…?”
“That it’s Lydia?” Stiles finished, eyes darting to them and then back to the road. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles white as he bit out through gritted teeth, “I don’t know.”
“It could be,” Scott said softly from the back.
“But even you weren’t this crazy during a full moon!” Jen frowned. It didn’t make sense. Would she really be so feral after a day? “How could Lydia do something like this?”
The three of them exchanged charged glances and said nothing more.
When they crept out of the jeep, bellies low to the dry leaves as they snuck up on the scene, Jen could only stare in muted shock. It was worse than they thought. Maybe even worse than when they found Derek’s sister in the ground.
“This can’t be Lydia,” Jen trembled. She looked between Scott and Stiles, their fists tightening to leave crescents in their palms as she found doubt in their eyes. “It can’t.”
Scott’s doubt flickered, turning inward. He shuffled closer. “Do you think you can find out? Like when you felt the Alpha that night on the bus?”
Wordlessly, Jen nodded.
Taking a deep breath, they closed their eyes tightly, turning their focus onto the ambulance and the man within it. It was harder now, being farther away from the origin point, but Jen could feel it, they could sense it. The lingering hints of the supernatural.
Remnants of hunger. And loneliness.
A desperateness to it all.
In the time she had these powers, she found that people’s supernatural souls tended to match who they were as a person. While she didn’t know Lydia as well as she would have liked, she knew this couldn’t be her soul, her presence. They just couldn’t be that different.
Jen withdrew from it, leaving it where it was in the wreckage.
“No,” she shook her head, finally opening their eyes. “It’s too… this isn’t Lydia.”
The boys grinned slightly, relieved. Jen was too. No one wanted Lydia to be a killer. But…
Stiles twitched back to stare at the ambulance, lips now turning downward. “If it’s not Lydia, then it’s someone else.”
“Which means she’s still in danger,” Scott cursed.
She hung her head. “Shit.”
Still staring at the road, Stiles blinding reached out to clasp onto Scott’s shoulder, his voice small and dull. “Scott, you need to— just,” like it pained him, Stiles tore his head away and pinned them both down with his quiet desperation. “You need to find her. Alright? Please— just find her.”
Jen could’ve choked on their self hatred in that moment, jealousy rearing its ugly head despite the desperation she and Stiles shared.
God. What was wrong with her?
Who in their right mind would make this about them? So Stiles wanted to find Lydia. She did too! What right did they have to feel so hung-up about the way he said those things? What right did they have to feel so selfishly?
They swallowed it down, the jealousy, but it clogged their throat like the hatred they felt. Choking them enough that Jen could only strangle out a quiet, “find her,” before Scott shot off into the dark.
For a split second, she wanted to follow him too, as if in apology for their initial jealousy. But they stopped themself. They knew they would only slow him down.
No sooner did Scott split off than did the crunch of dry leaves catch both their attention.
“Right,” their Uncle Noah sighed down at them, his hands on his hips. “We’re blaming mine?”
Jen withered as their dad as he leveled his own, brutal, stare. “No, no, mine can share some of it too.”
Hands in their pockets, Jen scuffed their shoes on the asphalt in front of the flaring lights. “I promise dad, we weren’t out for long. We were just looking for Lydia a-and I saw the lights and assumed the worst so…” They shrugged. “I’m sorry,” they mumbled.
Their dad sighed mutedly, jaw tight as he glanced over in Stilinski's direction. “I think mine’s telling the truth,” he announced.
Uncle Noah groaned but nodded, patting Stiles on the shoulder. “I never know if mine is. But I trust Jen a hell of a lot more.”
“Aw, come on dad!” Stiles whined. “What, you’re saying I’ve never been honest with you before?”
“Kid, I’ve had more lies from you than hairs on my head in the last week,” Uncle Noah ran a hand down his face. Jen only felt a little bit bad for the man. “And I’m not exactly bald.”
“Well, hey! That’s a highlight!” Stiles grinned brightly, clapping his dad on the back. “You know, premature balding is really prevalent among men your age and especially in high stress careers—”
“And with high stress children.”
“— fucking rude.”
“Alright, alright. Off,” Uncle Noah shoved Stiles away, ruffling his son’s buzzed head. “Now, are we going to have to escort you kids home or can we trust you to do that yourself?”
They both stood up straight, like plastic soldiers at attention.
“Uh, nope!” Stiles grinned confidently. “We can get home by ourselves, pops! No need for a police escort.”
“Now, see, that actually makes me trust you even less.”
“Oh, come on!”
Caught in their bickering, Jen was the only one of them to watch as the low branches hanging over the road shifted.
“Lydia?”
They didn’t realise they were the one to call their name until everyone else was echoing it too.
But standing there, shell-shocked and in nothing but her hospital gown, Lydia didn’t look up at the sound of her own name.
“Lydia!” Jen trotted forward, worried as the other girl continued to just stand there. “Lydia!”
She came to with a gasp, bright, hazel eyes finally focusing on them instead of blankly staring into something only she could see.
Close enough now and finally with Lydia slowly ambling into better light, Jen chewed on their bottom lip as they took her in. Lydia’s hair was filthy, so tangled it was nearly matted, with twigs and leaves and even bits of grit. She must’ve fallen a few times while she was lost. And true enough, her knees were bruised and scratched, and the rest of her skin and gown filthy with day old grime and dirt.
“Well?” Lydia croaked out, voice breaking in half as she looked around with teary eyes. “Is anyone going to give me a coat?”
Without thinking, Jen ripped their jacket off and wrapped it around Lydia’s shoulders, tugging the edges close together. “Sorry,” they muttered, rubbing the girl’s shaking arms. “It’s a little small, isn’t it?”
Lydia laughed, short and breathy, and tugged the jacket closer. “N-no, it’s alright.” Together, they made their way back. “It’s yours. I like it.”
On her shaking legs, Jen desperately wanted to ask what had happened to her, but held their tongue. Looking at her now, Lydia probably wouldn’t want to talk about it. Which was fine, even if Jen desperately wanted to know, but there were better times to ask.
It didn’t take long for everyone to go home. Lydia’s parents, once they got the call, had gotten to their location faster than they probably should’ve, but no one was blaming them.
Jen and Stiles ended up going their own ways. Stiles following Uncle Noah home, and Jen hopping into the passenger’s side with their dad. It wasn’t exactly a tense or awkward drive back, but it held a silence that Jen could’ve done without. But at least the lecture wasn’t too bad. Perhaps sensing their exhaustion and their genuine worry, their parents said that while it was admirable that Jen cared and wanted to find Lydia, that it was better to leave to the sheriffs. The department knew how to look for missing persons, Jen and Stiles did not.
Through it all, Jen could tell that their mom especially was worried. Ever since the hospital it felt like that was all their mom did, and it felt terrible knowing that she was the cause of their mom’s stress. Jen tried, they really, really did, but she made a note to be more careful next time, not just because they could get caught, but because they didn’t want to worry their mom.
But with all three of them exhausted, Jen kissed their parents goodnight and went up to their room, kicking off their shoes and collapsing on her bed with a groan.
She turned on her back after a few minutes and stared.
They found Lydia, and despite the dirt and grime, she seemed fine. But there was still a dead man in the ambulance, and he didn’t do that to himself.
With a deep sigh, Jen flipped onto their side and glared at her phone as it buzzed. Reaching over with a heavy hand, they stared down at the message Taliesin texted her.
Scotty’s alright. Talk tomorrow though. Fucking tired man. Also, fuck the hunters those guys are actually insane.
Jen shoved her face into her pillow and groaned. Well… at least there was some good news. But how the hell did Taliesin get involved? She hasn’t even known about the supernatural for a full week! Fuck. She was too tired to think about this. That was tomorrow’s problem.