Chapter Text
Prologue
Derek doesn't understand.
“What do we have?”
This wasn't meant to happen.
“White male, single gunshot wound to the chest, unequal breath sounds on the left side, suspected hemothorax as well as multiple bleeds, origin unknown. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
It wasn't meant to end like this.
“Pulse is one eighty five, blood pressure is forty over ninety. He’s tachy”
“Someone start a chest tube now and hang three units of O neg. I want a large bore IV in each arm push fluids”
“Okay Sir? Sir can you hear me? Can you speak”
Blood, so much blood.
“I…” coughing “Plea..”
He could feel it, running down his fingers, spread all over his clothes. Warm, still so warm.
“Okay, that’s okay. Just stay calm alright, were going to try and help you.”
It’s too much blood.
“Alright I want you to red line him to the OR and have a surgical team waiting. I want him prepped and ready in ten minutes if we have any chance of saving him. God willing”
The noise.
It hurts.
Alarms and warnings.
Everywhere.
“He has to have lost almost two litres Doc, he’s in hypovolmic shock!”
“Give him ten of dopamine,”
“We have V-tach”
“Tyler start chest compressions, someone get the paddles ready, I want more blood!”
Derek’s so confused…
“Charging.”
…and tried. So very tired.
“Clear!”
…beeeeeep…
It wasn't supposed to end like this
…
Not like this.
“What was silent in the father speaks in the son, and often I found in the son the unveiled secret of the father,”
- Friedrich Nietzsche
ONE WEEK EARLIER
“Holy shit,” Stiles exclaimed and Derek chuckles quietly to himself as he flops down on the bed next to his husband breathless, “What?” Stiles questions regarding the laughter delightedly bubbling from the older mans chest.
“It’s just, you say that every time.” Derek huffs.
“Well that’s because it’s fucking good every time.” Stiles enthuses and Derek lifts a solitary eyebrow.
“Good?” He questions, this time Stiles laughs deeply.
“Oh I’m sorry darling,” he coos turning to face his husband on his side and he lifts a hand up to condescendingly stroke Derek’s cheek, “Was ‘good’ not a big enough word to appease your ego,”
“Well now that you mention it…” Derek plays along turning to face his younger lover as well wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling them closer so that their chests are touching, tangling their legs together.
“Okay how about, extraordinary?”
Derek makes a contemplating -“Hmm” noise as he moves in to place a tender kiss against Stiles neck. Which is utterly distracting by the way.
“No? Alright umm, mind blowing?”
“Nah ah,” The older man mutters lifting his head to place more kisses behind Stiles ear drawing out a deep sigh.
“Wow someone is demanding. Well then lets try…” Stiles draws in a breath pulling his head back to rub noses with his husband, “…phenomenal, remarkable, outstanding, master-mph.” Derek cuts Stiles off the best way he knows how. With a bone shatteringly deep kiss.
Immediately distracted Stiles returns the kiss with equal amounts of enthusiasm and their tongues tangle together in an all too familiar dance. Stiles threads his fingers into Derek’s hair while the agent responds by tightening the grip he has on the younger boys waist. Pulling them flush against each other so there is no part of them that isn’t touching. Stiles can’t even pretend to know what he had been talking about.
Cursing the biological necessity to breathe Stiles pulls back to suck in a lungful of air but quickly dives back in, eager to push for another round. It is much better than the alternative, which involves Derek leaving.
Finally Derek makes the move to pull back completely and stay separated, even when Stiles lips chase his own greedily.
“Ah ah ah, no starting anything you cant finish jailbait,” Derek tuts at his unrelenting lover.
“Okay two things,” Stiles says, death grip on Derek’s hair tightening keeping him in place. He lifts his spare hand startlingly close to Derek’s face and raises his pointer finger. Stiles pulls back slightly so Derek doesn’t go crosseyed.“First, I think if you search your brain hard enough you’ll remember that you actually started that,” He announces pointedly and Derek rolls his eyes. Rude. “second,” his index finger, “who said anything about not finishing?” Stiles whispers seductively leaning in to taste the eternally soft lips of his one true love. Eager to delve between them and explore the cavern of his husbands unique flavour. Those sumptuous, indulgent, glor-.
Stiles startles as he lands face first into Derek’s pillow. “Umm ow,” he calls out indignantly looking up at Derek as the man pulls on his underwear.
“Okay two things,” Derek mimics getting to his knees, leaning his forearms on the bed pulling his face in close to Stiles’ with only his hand separating them. Stiles scowls at the obvious mockery. “One,” pointer, “I don't know what blood runs through the Stilinski veins, but we Hale men draw the line at three times in two and a half hours. I couldn't get it up if I tried,”
“Whatever old timer,” Stiles muttered only to receive a flick on the ear with Derek’s index finger.
“Second,” this word was growled with a warning tone in it, which only managed to elect a satisfied smirk from Stiles, “I have exactly an hour and a half to pack and be on a plane. There is no more time to finish whatever someone-”
“You.”
“-Started. Even with your young virile blood.” Derek leans in for one last peck before pulling away and heading into the bathroom.
“You could always not go.” Stiles calls out as he flops dramatically onto his back, eyes glued to the empty doorway.
“You could always come.” Derek shouts back, disembodied voice accompanied with the noise of toiletries being thrown into a bag.
A small amused smirk appears on stiles’ face, “I tried that, but apparently my husband needs some little blue pills to help me get there these days,”
“Hey!” Derek shouts suddenly popping into view, “you and I both know that I have never taken any performance enhancing drugs, and may I remind you of your earlier words. What where they? Phenomenal, extraordinary, I’m pretty sure mind blowing was mentioned.” Stiles resounding laughter was the kind that came with being carefree and pleasantly sated. It was involuntary and Derek was the only one who could pull it out of him regularly but it was his secret weapon. Even now he watched as the hearty noise softened his husbands resolve substantially until only fondness remains.
“Okay, okay, I retract my statement.” Stiles wheezes through breaths lifting his hands towards the air in surrender. Derek’s expression changes then, from enamoured to calculating.
“You could come you know. If anything I know my mom would be happy to see you,” Derek offers leaning against the doorframe crossing his arms over his sculpted chest and giving Stiles a nice view of the gold band wrapped around his ring finger.
Stiles smile remains in place but it morphs into one of regret, “I can’t,” he mumbles looking away.
“I’m sure he would be happy to see you, Stiles,” Derek responds equally as quiet and Stiles soon finds himself wrapped in his husbands arms once more and he quickly buries his face in the juncture between his shoulder and neck and mumbling into his collarbone.
“I can’t Derek, I…” he wanted to say more. To explain that if his father couldn't accept Derek as a huge part of his life then Stiles wouldn't be a part of his fathers. Wanted to tell him that every time his father opens his mouth, there is a better than not chance it’s going to be a scathing remark about the person he chose to spend his life with, and how every time he hears that his dad thinks his husband is, was, and always will be the biggest mistake he’s ever made, Stiles breaks a little inside. Even if he knows it isn’t true. “I just can’t,” but he doesn't have too.
“I know,” because he’s already told him. “I love you,” and Derek always proves his father wrong.
“What’s up with you trying to get me to see my dad anyway?” Stiles queries pulling his head away so he can gauge Dereks reaction, “I mean the guy hates you, why aren't you on my side?” This time Derek flops down onto his back exhaling deeply and making a face that says he is obviously choosing his next words very carefully.
“I am on your side Stiles it’s just,” he pauses once more and Stiles waits patiently turning on his side and leaning his head on his hand propped up by his elbow. “My dad left, and yeah Mark is awesome, and he has treated me like a son since he came into my life and for that I will always love him, but my real dad, I think I have seen to him twice since I was three years old.”
Stiles groaned in despair. He could tell exactly what story Derek was about to tell. It was a very sad one and Stiles had cried the first time he heard it, and he’d have more sympathy now if he didn’t know that it was his husbands way of manipulating him. That didn’t stop the man though and soon Derek was weaving tales of overcast March afternoons and of his father accosting him at Lauras funeral. Confronting him about the time Derek had turned his back on him when he was like five or something, and then walking away for good. It was positively heart breaking and Stiles could pretty much recite it word for word at this point.
Conveniently Derek left out the whole part about Gerard Argent showing up with an evil smirk planted firmly on his smarmy face but that wouldn’t serve Dereks purpose for the retelling would it.
Also didn’t stop it from working.
Asshole.
That was the most annoying part. No matter how many times Derek dragged that tale out of the dark moody closet, it never lessened the overwhelming amount of guilt he felt at ignoring his own father. Still, he complained about his dad all the time these days and Derek rarely spoke up, although when he did it was always in defence of the Sheriff. Which confused Stiles to no end. Why does he? The guy was trying to convince the love of his life to leave him on an almost constant basis. Derek owed the man no loyalty.
“Hey?” Stiles questions quietly, “What brought this on?” It’s not like the Sheriffs ire was breaking news. He’d been very vocal about his hatred for Derek long before he found out the man had married his son.
“I suppose heading back for Laura’s anniversary. Plus you’re really starting to build a lot of tension with your dad and it just made me think,” Derek turns his head to catch stiles gaze, “At least your dad cares enough to worry about who you end up with.”
“Agh,” Stiles whines dramatically, collapsing in on himself, “Why did you have to say that?!” he complains loudly. After spending a second feeling sorry for himself Stiles decides there is no way he’s getting out of this now. He huffs in only mildly mocking frustration and gets up to put his own clothes on, glaring at his husband the entire time. “Alright fine,” he relents to the sound of Dereks laughter, “I’ll call him but not today, and I’m still not going home with you. Unless you need me there for support but only then, not to see my dad.” He warns with a pointed finger over the top of Derek’s deep chuckles.
“No I think it just needs to be me and Mom for this one,” Derek grins as he himself gets up once more to finish packing his toiletries, “I will miss you though,” he allows and Stiles simply scoffs in return pulling a Dereks travel bag down from the top shelf of their wardrobe and starts packing a few of the mans favourite casual shirts. He leaves his personal favourite beside his pillow to use in his lovers absence though. Doesn’t even try to hide it. Derek should expect this by now.
“What are your plans for this week anyway?” He calls into the bathroom just as Derek emerges holding a small bag no doubt nighty percent full of hair products.
“Dinner with mom and Mark tonight. I’ll spend the day with mom tomorrow, then visit Laura by myself tomorrow night. Scott’s going to join us on Tuesday and then I come back on Thursday.” he lists as he throws on some proper clothes and grabs the packed bag from Stiles just as a the intercom buzzes loudly from the front door, “That’ll be the taxi,”
“Are you sure you don't want me to drive you?” Stiles asks gabbing Derek by the lapels of his freshly donned leather jacket and pulling him close.
“No, taxi’s already here and you still have four case files to finish in time to turn in tomorrow,”
“Boo” he moans, “there’s no breaks with you are there?” Derek smiles leaning in to kiss Stiles quickly before pulling away and grabbing his bags in both hands once more. “Wallet?” Stiles asks following Derek as he heads to the door, the sound of the buzzer echoing impatiently once more.
“Check.”
“Keys?”
“Check.”
“Phone?”
“Umm…” Derek mutters half out the front door turning to face Stiles patting down his pockets only to grin when he sees the object in question being held out to him, “What would I do without you?”
“Honestly, probably brood a lot more than is strictly necessary,” Stiles answers as Derek crowds him against the doorframe for one more deep lasting kiss that leaves Stiles breathless. It’s so consuming that for a small amount of time they forget what they’re even doing. Then the buzzer sounds again, interrupting their moment and this time Stiles growls possessively before leaning around the door to speak through the intercom, “he’s fucking coming relax!” Not waiting for the response he lets go of the button and turns to face Derek again only to see him trying to cover his huge grin. Stiles melts instantly, “I love your smile,” he admits with a semi grumpy voice to combat the intense levels of cheesiness he’s exuding, "not everyone gets to see it, but I do and I love it,” Derek laughs.
“You always get so sentimental when I leave. It’s cute.” Stiles rolls his eyes, both of them never to keen on the especially long sappy moments.
“You better go before Bob Marley down there has a stroke…” Stiles continues at Derek’s raised brow “…dudes rocking the dreadlocks,” he says gesturing towards the screen of their intercom displaying a very irate looking taxi driver.
“Okay, I have to go, I love you.” Derek calls back as he races towards the elevator in their apartment complex.
“I love you too,” Stiles calls back, “Call me when you land,” he demands and he barely has time to hear the affirmative response as the doors close blocking his view of Derek.
Stiles sighs sadly as he turns to look at his empty apartment before deciding that the files can wait another couple hours and he heads back to his room to collapse on their bed, already missing the shit out of his husband.
For a moment Stiles struggles with an overwhelming amount of dread at the thought of Derek landing in California.
He’s not sure why, but he has a really bad feeling about this trip.
Stiles did of course finish his filing. It took a lot of will power but by eight am on Monday morning he was at his desk, processing his last folder and wondering just how much longer he was going be sitting here miserably counting the seconds. One of the problems with being part of a profiling team though, he wasn't the only one wondering.
“What’s got you so depressed? And just how long do you plan on keeping my buzz down with your bad mood?” Jacksons gruff tone held little to no sympathy and really, Stiles wasn’t surprised. Jackson Whittemore openly cared for one person besides himself, and that was his fiancé. Probably why he and Derek butted heads so often. What was the saying? A town not being big enough or something.
“Hey lay off him,” Scott chastises walking past Stiles and depositing a coffee on his desk before taking a seat at his own, directly in front of Stiles’. “Derek is back in Beacon Hills for the week and Stiles is all alone with just his hand for company,” he adds mockingly. Stiles takes his coffee ignoring Jackson and Allison’s tittering laughter and focuses on Scott.
“I’m torn,” he states cryptically, “between appreciating this coffee so much that I politely ignore what you just said, and telling your brother how much you upset me so I can enjoy watching him give you all the custodial interviews at the mens penitentiary for the next year.” Scott gulped loudly and Stiles was keenly aware of his other two coworkers wrapt attention as well.
“…and?” Scott asks with trepidation, knowing Derek is fully capable, and willing, to do what has been threatened.
Stiles takes a sip contemplating. No one speaks for a full thirty seconds and the only sounds are that of the office milling around them. Finally Stiles sighs defeatedly.
“You’re lucky,” he relents and Scott breaths out a deep sigh of relief, “but watch your self buddy, just one word from me and its recounts and parole hearings for the rest of your BAU career.” Stiles warns pointing directly between Scott eyes. Scott only laughs, confident now that Stiles would never follow through. Allison laughs also and Jackson rolls his eyes disappointed as they both turn back to their screens with files of their own to complete.
When they are both thoroughly distracted Scott leans in to get Stiles attention. “You know I’m sure if you asked, Derek would’ve loved your company,” He says quietly, trying to keep this part of the conversation between the two of them. Aware of the delicate nature of the topic he was bringing up. Stiles wasn’t sure how he expected him to respond but the only indication he gives his friend that he even heard him is a slightly raised eyebrow. “Okay I know you have that whole thing with your dad but…” Scott tapered off after noticing a small raise in his best friends second eyebrow. “But you and Derek already talked about this didn't you…” Stiles levels him with an incredulous expression, “…I’ll just get back to work,”
“Probably for the best,” Stiles finally answers.
“Yep,” is Scotts tight reply as he turns his head back down.
Stiles allows himself a small smirk as he goes to continue working but instead his mind travels back to the conversation he had with Derek the afternoon before, and sighs. He tried to forget it but damn the man can get in his head.
“Stupid husband and his stupid brand of emotional manipulation,” he mutters grabbing his keys and heading up to Derek’s office. He’s well aware of his teams interested eyes. They know that this isn’t exactly typical behaviour and these guys are paid to notice shit, but he’ll be damned if he is going to make this call within ear reach of any one of those over analysing bastards. So he lets them speculate as he slots his spare key to Dereks office into the door, perks of being married to the boss, and smoothly glides inside, closing and locking it behind him.
Stiles doesn’t even spend a second contemplating his next move and instead beelines for the most luxurious chair ever, situated behind the desk, sinking into the leather causing a soft puff of air. Hell if he’s going to emotionally torture himself, may as well be relaxed while he does it.
Once settled in Derek’s comfy ass chair, seriously how does he go about getting one of these bad boys, and pointedly ignoring his memories about the last time he was in here, now was so not the time for an erection. He picks up Derek’s phone and dials the number that is permanently etched in his temporal lobe.
Of course if he were profiling right now, he would point out that despite the fact he hasn't dialled this number in almost six months and yet still manages to remember it by heart, clearly indicates a suppressed longing and emotional attachment to the person it belongs to. He might even go on to say that obviously he has been wanting to call this number for some time because if he hadn’t, and he truly didn't care, as he had claimed, the number, like most unused memories, would have faded like footprints in the sand, and yet his fingers remember it almost by habit… but he’s not profiling, so it’s moot.
“Hello this is Sheriff Stilinski,” Stiles is drawn back to the present by his fathers voice and a jolt of nervousness tingles up his neck. He hadn’t actually thought about what he might say.
“H- hey Dad it’s me…Stiles,” Good start. Stiles can hear his father sit straighter over the line and can almost picture him in his office. Uniform clean and crisp, juxtaposed with the absolute chaos his desk would be.
“Ah yeah, I know son.” He coughs awkwardly, “only one person in the world who calls me Dad,” and isn't that just a kick in the teeth. Stiles would like to know exactly when the world teamed up to make him feel bad. He mimics his fathers cough to try and cover his own discomfort but he’s almost ninety percent sure it failed.
“Umm yeah I guess,” he mutters as a reply. When did talking with his dad get so tough? Wait that was a stupid question, he already knows the answer and it was right around the time the Sheriff walked in on Stiles and Derek how should he say, ‘hitting a home run’ when he was nineteen.
To be fair it was at collage and the sheriff let himself into Stiles dorm unannounced so really, who's fault was that?
Probably didn’t help that Stiles had left their newly minted marriage certificate on his dresser. Definitely didn’t help that it was the first indicator his father got that Stiles even knew Derek that intimately.
“So what can I do for you?” the Sheriff asks just as stunted as Stiles. Good to know he wasn’t alone in his lack conversational skills.
“Just calling to check up on you. It’s been a while,” and the scoff that comes through the other end of the line is hurtful to say the least.
“Yeah a long time, more than six months to be specific,” Stiles would have to be pretty deaf to miss the sarcasm there.
“Well I'm calling now aren't I?” he mutters, more than a little annoyed at the accusation in his fathers tone, “and its not like my phone was ringing so…” this time the sheriff almost growls but muffles himself in the end and Stiles takes a moment to note how that is exactly how Derek fights with him as well. Not gonna read to much into that one.
“Why do we always turn it into a fight?” His dad sighs dejectedly before continuing, “look I miss you kid, and I’m sorry if I jumped down your throat but that last time we spoke you asked me not to contact you until…” ‘Until you can accept my choices and be happy for me'… that's what Stiles had said. What was obviously being left unsaid was the fact that the Sheriff hadn't contacted him, which means…
“So I suppose you’re still not going to drop your personal crusade to destroy my marriage then?” Stiles mumbles with resentment.
“I know you think that I am trying to ruin your life-“
“No, not my whole life, just the personal part of it.”
“-but I’m only doing this because I care about you Stiles,” The Sheriff implores and Stiles throws a fist down on Derek’s desk scattering some papers and a stray pen.
“I am so damn sick and tired of you using that excuse Dad. If you really cared, you would realise what losing Derek would do to me.” he could hear his father standing up, probably to pace. He always used to do that when he was stressed.
“But I am Stiles. I have a job as your father to protect you. Even when you don't realise you need protecting, and I will never stop doing my job.” he promises firmly through the phone and now Stiles is standing.
“Well your job is going to cost you your son one day,” Stiles’ voice is steal. He needs to make sure his father knows exactly who Stiles would chose, let there be no confusion. “Seriously dad I don't get it. Yes Derek used to be a bit of a mystery, and yes he had a few run-ins with you guys, but never anything bad enough for charges, just stupid kid stuff. Hell you caught me doing worse with Scott!”
“You don't understand-“
“Well then explain it to me,” Stiles yells interrupting his father once more, “is it the age difference? Or that I was so young when we started dating? Or is it that we didn't tell you? Because it’s been ten years dad. Derek and I are in a major team-a part of the FBI, and we’re still happy, and together and not regretting a single damn thing. That’s what most parents dream of for their kids. So why cant you get over it?”
“It’s not that, or well it is, but that’s not the main reason. That’s just why I don't trust him, you were a kid!” His father shouts back.
“Oh for fucks sake dad who cares,”
“I care!”
“Well I don’t!” Stiles explodes suddenly. “And if the main reason isn't the age thing, or the secret thing, and if we learnt anything from the Tony Canstali setup incident, you defiantly don't have a problem with me being gay, so what does Derek have to do to make you like him?”
Stiles wasn’t sure what he was expecting his father to say. That he thinks Derek is still using him, probably. That he expects Derek to break his heart is also common. There was a small part of him that hoped the man would stutter and back down but he knew that was unlikely. Mostly though, he wasn’t expecting such a raw and honest answer. Which just made it sting all the more.
“Nothing!” Stiles falters at the finality in his dads voice, especially as he goes on to say in a quiet yet dangerous tone, “there isn't a single damn thing on this earth that could convince me that Derek Hale isn't the scum on the bottom of my shoe. And not because of his upbringing, or his dirtbag father, but because I can see it in him. All my years on the force, if there is one thing that I learnt, it’s always trust your instincts. Well mine tell me that this man you’ve chained yourself to is going to be your death. Evil follows him son, and I will not stop fighting to see it separated from you. Even if it costs me our relationship. As long as you’re safe no price is too high.”
Stiles listens to his fathers heavy breathing as he struggles to control is own. A tear of frustration he hadn't realised had fallen makes its way to the bottom of his chin as he comes to the sudden heartbreaking realisation that he will never convince his father to see reason.
“Well,” he grits out after a good thirty seconds of silence, “it bodes well for you dad that our relationship isn't to much to lose, because you just, lost.it.” and with that Stiles slams the phone back into the receiver effectively ending this disastrous call.
Stiles then takes two or three steps backwards and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes to try and stop the tears from falling. His breathing harsh and uneven. It had been years since he’d had a panic attack, almost a decade in fact, but he still recognised the terror as though he’d had one just yesterday. He didn’t get them all the time when he was younger. Just a few times. When his mother ha passed away, and that time he thought Derek had died in the line of duty for a hot second but the horrifying lack of control was second to none.
leaning against the door he slid down to the floor and rested his head between his knees trying to clam his breathing.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
What on earth was he going to tell Derek?
If he was being honest, Derek was a little overwhelmed. It was rare that he managed to make the trip home these days, and this was the first time without Stiles or even Scott by his side. Okay sure Scott was going to come down in a day but still, for another seventeen hours it was just him and his mom. Which is something it hadn't been in a long time.
It should be pleasant, instead he was distracted with thoughts of his father in law. Derek had called his husband before bed last night, just to check in but was shaken to hear the reluctant retelling of the phone conversation Derek had forced him to have. Ever since then he had been wracked with guilt.
It felt like Stiles and his father were standing on a precipice and Derek had just come along and pushed them off for no good reason. Stiles of course resolutely denied the accusation but Derek couldn’t stop the dark thoughts from stealing in. Not to mention the bombardments of ‘maybe the Sheriff is right’ they carried with them.
“Whats taking up all your focus darling?” His mom asks, ever the knowing mother. She leans over the car to pat his knee.
“Nothing, just thinking.” he mutters and ignores his mothers sigh.
“How’s Stiles then, and Scott?” She asks instead. He knows it’s a tactic. She’s always been smarter than him, but he can’t just ignore her.
“Good,” he mumbles unenthusiastically, “Scotts started seeing this girl from work.” His mother perks up with interest and a little displeasure.
“Really? He didn't tell me.” She grumbles. Derek knows she expects secrets from him, but Scott has always been an open book. He doubts there is a thing that goes on in his younger brothers life that he doesn’t immediately rely to his parents. Derek doesn’t get it. The thought of making himself so vulnerable like that makes him cringe. He barely manages open communication in his marriage.
“I wouldn’t worry too much,” he soothes not wanting to get his brother in trouble. Although honestly he assumed his mother already knew. “He was probably going to tell you on this trip. It’s pretty new.” Derek struggled to monitor his reaction. He could feel the crease forming in-between his eyebrows and the look on his mothers face indicated that she longed to reach over and smooth it out. Truth was Allison wasn’t exactly his favourite topic. She was new to the team. Kind and gentle, although like most of the women Derek knew he wouldn’t want to be on her bad side. There was just one small thing about her he couldn’t get over.
“Something tells me you’re not all together pleased with his choice,” She responds. Try as he might body language does give some emotions away, and she is his mother for crying out loud. She’d spent his whole life learning to read between the lines.
“I don’t dislike her,” he tries diplomatically, “she's a good agent. Smart, quick thinking, she’s really been an asset to the team.”
“But…” She probes.
Derek doesn’t even try to pretend there isn’t something holding him back, “She’s an Argent” he admits and watches his moms eyebrows disappear underneath her bangs.
“As in-”
“Kate’s niece, Gerard’s granddaughter.” Derek growls looking determinedly out the window of the car at the passing scenery. Anything to not see the way his mother’s face shifts into one of pity. “It's actually the main reason she’s in the BAU, Gerard put her there to spy on me.”
“Well no wonder you don’t trust her.” Melissa mutters and now Derek feels bad. Allison hadn’t actually done anything wrong.
“It’s not that though. She’s proved that she's not like them. Yes the position was handed to her, but she probably could have made it on her own, and I don't think Scott would date her if she were trading in secrets it’s just…”
“She's an Argent.” Melissa offers when he gets stuck, and she can clearly see the guilt enveloping him. “Darling it's okay to be hesitant about this girl. Especially if Gerard is her grandfather. It doesn't make you a bad person.”
“Are you sure, cause I feel like one,” He mumbles becoming insecure.
“Of course I’m sure. That man has it out for you,” She starts to gain volume. Her protective mom voice gaining power the more she sits on the topic. Derek should distract her from it but he can’t help but indulge in her unconditional support. Even just for a moment. “Vowing to ruin you’re life like that. Childish is what it is.” She hisses. Derek goes to talk her down but then she says something that sucks the breath right out of him. “And being hesitant does not make you the same as the Sheriff!” She declares.
Derek’s head snaps to attention, turning to face his mother, mouth agape, before huffing out a laugh and shaking his head.
“Should have known I couldn’t keep a secret from you.” He breathes mid laugh and she joins in.
“Thats a lie. We all know that there is plenty that you don't tell me.” She responds pointedly and Derek blushes looking away again. He had just felt wrong telling his parents about getting married, and not Stiles father. She would never forgive him for it either.
Derek ignores it. Not having anything decent to defend himself with, but it does make him think. She’s his mom, and clearly Scott thinks there’s something to be said for sharing with her. Plus she managed to get straight to the crux of his reservations about his brothers new girlfriend. Maybe it was worth giving it a go.
There was something that had been troubling him for sometime now. Something that the Sheriff had managed to dredge back up in his most recent campaign for divorce, and it was something he couldn’t ask Stiles for obvious reasons.
“Have you ever spoken to dad… since he left I mean?” He asks before he can talk himself out of it. He tries not to notice the stutter in his mothers breathing, or her shoulders tensing, but after eight years in the FBI, studying behaviour wasn’t really a thing he could turn off.
“No, never,” She utters resolutely, without any fluctuations, and Derek knows it’s the truth. “But I know you have,” She adds.
Derek already knew this. He had told her in passing before but they had never really acknowledged it until now.
“Why-” Derek cuts himself off wondering if he should really follow this line of questioning, and then determines he’s already gotten this far. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Why did you marry him?” he couldn’t help but wince at his mothers sharp intake of breath.
She looks contemplative, like she wants to question his questions, but answers anyway. “Well, when we first met, he was…charming,” she was obviously thinking very hard about every word she chose and he was determined to let her finish. “and I thought I loved him, and he loved me, or at least he believed he did. In retrospect I think he was more interested in possessing me.”
“You were really young though. How did you know you really loved him?” Derek tread carefully. Aware that he was close to giving away some of his darkest thoughts.
“I was sixteen,” she says giving him a knowing look, and he knows he’s been busted. “Same age as Stiles when you two got together,”
“Yeah,” Derek didn’t even try to look surprised this time.
“Look honey, I know you’re scared that the Sheriff is going to one day get through to Stiles and convince him to leave you, but you and I both know that will never happen. That boy is so loyal he would follow you to the grave.” She affirmed giving his knee a squeeze and Derek couldn’t help but smile. It was his Stiles smile. The one he got whenever he thought about just how much he loved the little fucker. “I know you look at your father’s and my relationship as a comparison, but you have to stop, because we had a completely different partnership than you guys.”
“How?” Derek asks suddenly and with passion, all his insecurities pounding at the door, begging to be let out. “You were sixteen and a kid when you hooked up with dad, and you always said that you thought you loved him but you were young and stupid and didn't really know what it meant.” He says facing her properly once more, “How is that different to Stiles and I?”
“Far out Derek you are not your father!” She growls annoyed, “Okay yes I was young and stupid alright, but me and your father never would have lasted as long as we did if it weren’t for outside factors in our relationship.”
“You mean Laura and I?” He grumbles dejectedly. Nothing like being reminded you were the cause of your mothers misery for three full years.
“No, not just you two,” She sighs once more growing weary with this line of questioning, “you have to understand Derek when I was young there was still a lot of stigma on unwed mothers. My parents, your Fathers parents, societies expectations, all of these were issues. But what you and Stiles have is so strong and inspiring because you two fought to keep it in spite of these things. Your father and I were forced to keep it, and look how that turned out.” she stops the car and Derek looks out the window to see that they have indeed arrived at their destination. The rolling hills behind wrought iron fences and bordered by thick tree lines behind, a painfully familiar sight. “Do you want me to come with you? I already saw her yesterday morning but I’m always happy to see my baby.” His mom offers.
Derek shakes his head. “No, I think I want to see her alone.” He answers quietly opening the door and half out before her turns around again. “Don’t wait up, I think I want to walk home, clear my head.” he smiles in an attempt to reassure her but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Then again not many of his smiles do.
“If you’re sure,” she smiles back sadly.
He hesitates letting go of the car door and eventually just bite the bullet, “…I love you mom.” He mumbles not waiting for a reply before he is out of the car and halfway across the cemetery.
“Be careful Derek, it will be dark soon!” He hears her shout out the open window before driving off and he’s thankful she didn’t make a big deal out of it.
He swallows thickly, pushing down everything he just let bubble up and faces towards a well worn desire path, beginning the good ten minute trek to Lauras final resting place.
He finds that he rather enjoys the quiet a graveyard gives you. It may be a morbid thought but people tend to respect your privacy when you’re here. The only acknowledgement he gets is a slight head tilt from Mrs Prior. The Manger.
He made the briefest of motions in return and then quickened his pace to move past her. She had always creeped him out.
When he reached Lauras grave he took a second to look around. See her view. There wasn’t much to see. The trees were fairly overbearing and besides a dark haired girl standing roughly fifty feet to the right with tears streaking down her face they were all alone.
Derek closed his eyes and breathed in deeply a few times.
This was it. Twelve years since she had passed away and Derek was now married and working and Laura was forever twenty years old. His soul ached at the thought she never got to experience the good life had to offer that he had found. In Stiles, in Scott, in his team. His family.
She could have been a part of that, and he let her down.
He opened his eyes, still dry as a bone, and leaned forward to place a hand of her headstone. He refused to cry during these times. It took a lot to pull a tear from him but in moments like these it was about being close to her, not mourning her.
“Hey L.” He mumbled fondly, “How’ve you been?”
“What do we have?” The Sheriff shouts as he wonders through the woods he grew up in, that his son grew up in, now forever changed after the gruesome act that was performed here mere hours ago. It wasn't often he had to deal with this part of the job but that didn't make it any easier.
“Name’s Caitlin Spencer, twenty two, found dead about two hours ago.” The young male, one of the newer deputies, held up a wallet and drivers licence with blood covering it in a plastic evidence bag. Noah held back his sigh of derision. It was clear this kid was trying to prove he was all that because he showed little to no emotion. It was silly. To pretend that the murder of a young woman with her whole life ahead of her wasn’t tragic to appear manly. Still Noah could see it in his eyes. This image would stay with him for a long time.
“Who found her?” He asked pushing those thoughts away.
“Bunch of kids, they were on a school excursion this morning, biology, identifying plants.” The young deputy answered and his composure dropped slightly, a bit of disgust dripping into his tone. Noah didn't blame him for that small break in his solid exterior. He preferred it in fact.
“Any idea what happened to her?” He directed this question to the friendly medical examiner, something Deaton he believes, bent over her. He didn’t know his first name because, honestly, they never really had occasion for him. Apart from the odd animal attack.
“She was tied up.” He starts straight off the bat, pointing to her feet, “ligature marks around the ankles. Similar ones around her wrists but not as severe suggests she was hung upside down.” He lists it off carelessly as though he’s seen a thousand of these, and he probably has. The man got the job after having enough of it in Sacramento. “She sustained no defensive marks. Means she was probably unconscious for most of it, thats good at least,” the doctor muttered the last part mostly to himself but Noah couldn’t help but snort in agreement.
“Any idea about cause and time of death?” the young deputy beside him asks, eager to show his worth.
“Well cause of death was exsanguination-”
“Ah” Noah cuts off him off, “In english please?” he requests, one hand on his hip the other out in front of him palm facing upward in am almost pleading gesture. The last time he used that his son was explaining the dynamics of human behaviour and various factors that contribute to its something or whatever.
“Blood loss,” Deaton offers standing up to face the sheriff properly, “she bleed out from a series of cuts made to select major arteries, deep enough to cause death, shallow enough for it to take a good few hours.” The sheriff shook his head angry. “Means she wasn't killed here though, nowhere near enough blood.”
“Who could do this?” he growled, and he was largely ignored and the ME continued as though he hadn’t heard him. Probably for lack of an answer.
“As for time of death, I would put it pretty close to around 6:47 last night.”
“That specific?” He asks shocked. It was rare in such a small town to get a time of death within hours let alone minutes. He didn't even think it was possible outside of a hospital.
“Well actually there in lies your salvation Sheriff, found this under her heel,” he says handing over and evidence bag with a broken watch inside it, glass smashed and hands stuck on the time 6:47. “Bodies not old enough for that to be later then yesterday afternoon and position of the watch and lack of blood leads us to believe that she was killed somewhere else and dumped here. watch probably fell off and broke when he dropped her. And that’s not even the best part.”
“There’s a best part?” the Sheriff asks in disbelief.
“Turn it over,” the man orders, and so he does, and slowly a dark humourless grin spreads across his face.
“I knew it!” he growled turning around and rushing to his car. “Isaac I want an arrest warrant waiting for me by the time I pull up to the house!” Noah yells tossing the watch to a different deputy leaning against his car and sipping his coffee.
“For who?” he calls back looking down at the watch also before almost dropping it as his eyes widen in shock. Noah doesn’t blame him. No one but him had seen it coming for the longest time, but there it was, hard proof inscribed elegant lettering on the back of the watch…
Happy 30th Derek,
Love Stiles.
Noah knew it was poor taste to leave a murder scene with such a smug grin in place but he couldn’t help it. Vindication tasted too damn sweet.