Take my heart (and put it somewhere safe)

by not_carrying_on

Summary:

The one where Theo reluctantly helps the pack capture Monroe, deals with the aftermath of his upbringing with the Dread Doctors, saves the lives of not so few people (despite the will to deny it until his dying breath), practically adopts Alec and pulls his head out of his ass.

☽◯☾

(*In the middle of yet another edit as of Sept 2024. Will not alter the storyline, just clean up the writing the tiniest bit.)

Chapter 1: These feet have walked over a few graves

Notes:

This was born when I kept on thinking about Theo getting shot by Gabe in The hospital scene (you know the one) and how our boy would try to take care of said bullets piercing him by himself. Then it took a turn when I tried envisioning him helping the pack catch Monroe, since that's the quintessence of all the Thiam fics I've been reading, along with his and Liam's developing relationship slash denial game and I want to give it a go, too.

The chapter starts off really dark but fret not - there will be fun, wholesome parts, too! Along with explicit sex scenes later on in the story. (And yes, I did change the summary)

WARNING: explicit depictions of suicidal ideation, violence and gory scenes, typical to the show itself. I'll put more details in the notes at the end of the chapter for any unsure souls.

Title is from "Post Malone - Take my heart" because that part of the lyrics is just too fitting.

Hope you enjoy!

 

*Sept 2024 edit stamp - I'll put these in the beginning of each chapter as I edit the fic, since it'll take me some time, undoubtedly. Just in case anybody is reading while I'm sweeping in the background, and the style change is absolutely obvious when you jump to a chapter with no '2024 edit' stamp lol. This edit will not effect the plot. I just realized I'm not overly content with some of the stylistic details as I wrote this some time ago, don't mind me.

Theo can't stop looking at Gabe's slack, cold body. Corpse, the clinical part of his brain corrects. Because Gabe is dead, not asleep. 

Even when the Sheriff, Parrish and Agent McCall enter the premises to detain the rest of the assailants who don't even put up a fight with Monroe now gone, he can’t look away. Scott and Co relayed that the Anuk-Ite is dead, and with its demise the debilitating fear of the past weeks has rendered every inhabitant of Beacon Hills somber with the stark lack of it.

No more excuses to hide behind. 

Theo keeps stealing glances at Gabe, wholly detached from the dozens of ongoing conversations. He still feels the phantom twinge in his veins from his body absorbing Gabe’s pain. It’d been like a jolt of quivery static, at first. Unexpected. The wolf, or more so its version at the forefront of Theo's mind, keeps its head cocked, intrigued but underneath it all more than a little startled - it'd been taken off guard. The coyote, a part he’d beaten and essentially mutilated into submission years ago, annoying if most helpful when the need to blend in with people arises, had yipped. Dumbfounded. A child-like fascination swimming in a shallow pool of fear. It's possible that the synchronized dissonance between both of the animals is making it this noteworthy. 

He had to pick which one to keep as a dominating figure, years and years and years ago, and which one to block almost completely out. One with as much freedom as Theo allows it, and the other with scarcely any. It hadn't really been a choice. Wolves are more methodical. They think more before they attack and most importantly, has the ability to be patient when it is required. The coyote under his skin possesses none of those characteristics, rendering it the more unneeded of the two. So Theo shunned it, permitted it to surface when he needed to be quick, when he had to fuck with people's heads in a way that doesn't let on that he is. The wolf is his main source of input.

Theo blinks, the there and gone again of the faint imagery alteration having an effect not unlike a backup generator whirring back to life. He was in his mind, alone, and now he's surrounded by people.

He can leave. Forget about this wretched city with its memories that plague his ever-present nightmares. Go somewhere else, go anywhere else, on the other side of the country where there are no reminders present. Apart from the glaring ones in his head, but he can pretend they're not there. He can't pretend Liam, of flesh and blood and anger, with maybe even with too much blood outside of him and absolutely no fucks for it, is not right in front of him and very much alive. Him Theo can't escape.

Liam—as if tuning in on Theo's inner monologue—appears at his side like he's jumped through a wormhole from his previous place to Theo's vicinity, but Theo’s attempt to force himself to look away from Gabe is null. A small, vulnerable (and quite honestly very much pathetic) side of him doesn't want to know how Liam's observation of him is going, rejoices in the ticking seconds where it remains in blessed oblivion. 

"You're going to leave, aren't you?" Liam asks, scalding and accusing, no attempts to soften it. But also: quiet, yet still impactful in his hyper-emotional state. He reeks of barely contained fury - at Monroe's escape and any casualties that have been left unavenged, at his inability to prevent  Brett and Lori’s deaths, or accept them as such, as dead. 

Theo doesn't answer, blinks, transfixed by the pooled blood around Gabe's corpse. The flickering lights above them reflect in it. It's still relatively fresh, like a gruesome, monochrome Christmas decoration.

Liam yanks his arm, hand tightly locked around Theo's biceps, physically compelling Theo to acknowledge him. Theo falters a step or two in the process, sneakers squeaking on the floor as he inevitably removed some of the distance between them to regain his balance. 

He finally catches Liam's compelling eyes, the blue in them stormy and close to gray. 

Theo remains silent; whatever Liam reads on his expression makes him lose some of the edge. He feels Corey and Mason's attention on them, now.

Too many people. He should have left already.

"You're not leaving." Liam orders with finality, and Theo almost breaks character. Can he really read him that well? "Not until we find her." Liam's irises take on their more pronounced golden hue, flaring in a direct challenge, the color further saturating until they're glowing lanterns in this slightly dimmed part of the corridor. 

Theo's wolf would have reacted at that, would have had him snarl a few barb-wired words if Liam's hand on him didn't shake so noticeably. If his claws weren't digging into Theo's skin through the shirt, digging small holes where they'd gone through the material. 

"Calm down." is what Theo says instead, sweeping a quick glance through the cacophony around them. "Liam, calm down." 

Liam's jaw clenches, muscles there protruding. Theo doesn't need him to open his mouth to know his fangs have descended. A tell-tale snarl, vibrating deep within Liam's chest, alerts him as to how far off Liam truly is. Fear, anger, helplessness, lack of sleep, all of it culminating in him slipping the leash off the wolf, letting it howl its way to the surface.

Theo catches Corey and Mason's alert eyes when they try to step in, shakes his head once in a cut off move. He hears Ms. McCall stop a few feet away, ready to intervene, and behind her is Liam's step-dad talking to the Sheriff, completely unaware of the carefully balanced scales that are in the middle of choosing which direction they will tip into.

"Unless you want your family to find out about your little lycanthropy problem right the fuck now, you're gonna have to calm down." 

It takes Liam three long seconds to understand Theo through his blood-lust. When he does he shivers and recoils, almost faces Dr. Geyer in the process if not for Theo's hand around one of his elbows to keep him in place. 

"Calm down." he repeats, like it's so simple. 

Liam presses his lips together tightly in a lupine growl, closes his eyes. Instead of taking deep breaths to even out his heart rate, his chest heaves. His pulse jumps in manic little swoops and along with the stench of anger another scent makes itself present, overly familiar to Theo over the past nightmarish weeks in Beacon Hell.

Fear. 

"The Anuk-Ite is dead. Beacon Hills is secure. She got away, but for now we're safe." Liam inhales at the words. "One problem at a time, Liam. You can't chase her on blood loss, no sleep and no food. So quit it." Liam tilts his head, to crack his neck, teeth bared with his fangs overlapping, heedless of Theo's warning of the potential audience. "She can run, but she can't hide. She's too ambitious. One way or another she'll slip and we'll catch her. Right now? You can only help the process by calming the fuck down." with the last words Theo gets a hold of Liam’s other elbow, pressing both thumbs hard into the sensitive delve where upper arm meets forearm.

Liam lists forward and grasps Theo’s bare forearms, in reaction to the grounding touch Theo guesses. When that too doesn’t work fast enough, Theo starts drumming his thumbs to the beat of his own—Tara’s—heart, in the hopes that when Liam can both feel it and hear it, it’ll be marginally easier for him to concentrate on the beat. 

And it works. Liam’s forehead drops to Theo’s shoulder shortly after, still tightly gripping his arms, but his pulse levels out. He's twitching in place with his effort, swallowing loud with his teeth clicking as he grinds his molars together.

Something in the background makes Theo unhand him, makes him push Liam him away while taking a large step back. The Sheriff and Dr. Geyer have concluded their conversation, he realizes. Dr. Geyer spots Liam immediately, heads their way a millisecond later. Liam is confused for all but a moment, staring up at Theo in incomprehension at the sudden aloofness, before his step-father is there to take Theo's place. He goes through the same confused-why did you do that-oh, that's why sequence Theo himself had had.

Theo uses the opportunity to blend in with the background. Almost successfully. Mason takes a step in his direction. The Sheriff beats him to it—and Theo finds himself glad of it honestly—coughs to gets Theo's attention; once Theo looks his way he nods to the side, hands on his hips close to the gun and his sheriff badge, expression hard and with not even a single ounce of warmth for Theo as a person. Theo is a threat to him.

Mason retreats, having lost his free slot.

"Sheriff." Theo says when they're face to face, an ingrained courtesy. 

Sheriff Stilinski sighs, runs a hand over his forehead in a Stiles-like manner, and a part of his stoic act splinters. "You are entirely aware that we're not letting you leave, right, Theo?" 

"Liam made that as clear as day, yes."

At that, the Sheriff seems to conduct another assessment, ultimately choosing not to comment on the selected wording. "Yeah, well. We'll have this conversation later. For now, I want you to drive the lot of them to the McCall house." he tips his chin in Liam, Corey and Mason's direction. "We're meeting up there. No detours. Absolutely none, you hear me?" 

He's all authority now, but it's just as 'Stilinski', not as the 'Sheriff'. Theo is not let off the hook, as much as he may like to be. This is just a means to an end - he has a car that can fit a lot of people and it's a convenient measure to guarantee he can't flee the scene when he’ll have to go against an exceedingly unstable and compromised Liam, and an invisible Corey. They're both aware of the fact. 

But what they both also know is that currently, wounded or not, Theo has the upper hand of his peculiarities on his side. He can take them down if needed. It's a game of extremely reluctant trust, backed up by subtle threats.

Theo nods, accepts the condictions. "The others?" 

"They'll get there when they get there."

Deliberate withholding of information. Rude. Understandable considering, well, everything Theo has done upon the McCall pack. Considering he almost permanently killed Scott, put Lydia in Eichen, played Liam like a puppet, left Malia at the mercy of the Desert Wolf and then some. But still rude. 

Theo nods again, accepts the cards. In his peripheral vision he catches a loitering Nolan, just a few steps behind Mason and Corey like a panicky kid in a supermarket. Unable to decide whether he should stay or go by the looks of it, reeking of sickly bitter guilt. 

"And Nolan?" 

The Sheriff takes one look at Nolan, pinches his mouth together while pulling a face. "Him as well."

"Roger that." Theo offers a half-assed salute.

And he walks his way up to Mason and Corey. He lifts an index finger to point at Nolan, making the poor sucker jump, hooks it in a come-here manner. They have plenty of time while they wait for Liam to finish his quiet conversation with Dr. Geyer, he can might as well shepherd them in advance. Nolan is about ready to jump outta his skin to be quite frank, just one more surprise and he's a goner.

The ride itself is tense, Liam silently brooding in the seat next to Theo, the trio in the back just as stagnant. Nolan's shoulders are up to his ears, his guilt as poignant as when they were in the hospital. Until Mason reaches from his place in the middle of the back seat to swat Liam over the head, earning an offended squawk. Theo grips the wheel in reaction to the almost-there collision of Liam's left arm and his own face.

"The hell?" Liam whirls around to face Mason, then pulling his head back a little at the stare Theo gives him for the personal space breach.

"Not tonight." Mason supplies. "We won and we're alive. Do the Batman brood impression tomorrow."

Liam shifts enough to crane his neck some more and via best friend telepathy with Mason they seem to settle on an understanding. Liam snorts, turns back forward with a shake to his head. 

"You're just trying to ruin my origin story."

The thick tension disperses after that. Liam, Mason and Corey start a comic book conversation regarding Marvel and DC, a benign topic Theo can and does tune out. Nolan is just as mute as him, most likely trying to not bring attention to himself, unaware that his chemo signals more than make up for his silence.

They quickly pile out once at the McCall house, all but Corey. He throws himself in Liam's vacated seat, slamming the door after himself. Theo feels his gaze drill holes into his head, feels him pull back layers of dermis, dismantle his skull to get to the parts of Theo's brain where Tracy and Josh lay. People never did give Corey enough credit. He might not be that vocal but he's overly observant and opinionated.

"Why did you help Liam?" he doesn't specify. They both know he really means, why did you save Liam?

So Theo answers the question to benefit himself instead. "Because his step-dad was ten feet from him and my ears are too tired for another scene."

Corey's upper lip curls a little before he swallows down the sour comment at Theo's attitude, changes his tactics. "Why do you care?"

Theo can't answer. This seems to be another part his punishment. His inability to do things that is, the simplest things that should come naturally, once the fists are thrown. Useless out of a fight. Theo just tightens his right hand on the wheel. 

"Did you even care about Josh and Tracy? At all?"

There it is. The pointed arrow Corey had been diligently biding his time to shoot. But it's also a genuine question, he truly wants or possibly even needs to know if Theo has ever cared about anybody but himself.

Theo holds his eyes then. Because there is nothing lingering of the soft guy Corey is with Mason and Liam. That's the only version of him that Theo can talk to.

Theo reaches for the free space in front of the gear shift, for his basic-ass wallet, and holds it out to Corey. Corey frowns, hesitates before he takes it and turns it over in his hands. He notes it's old, some of the leather is missing in matches. He finally opens it. There, in the transparent laminate slot where people tend to keep photos of their loved ones stare back the faces of Josh and Tracy. And Tara. All of them smiling at whoever too their photos.

The photos themselves are beyond worn, after how many times Theo has smoothed them over with shaking fingers after some very particular brands of nasty nightmares. There's dried blood at the lower half of Tara's photo and it's fitting, really. Josh and Tracy's fare a hair better. He'd dropped all three of them onto his chest in accident after he'd sliced it open with his claws in a hasty attempt to prove to himself that there was no hole there, despite the phantom and achy emptiness telling him otherwise. He'd just wanted to remind himself why he deserved the punishment and managed to almost ruin the photos in the process.

Corey analyses all the data he has at his disposal. He's probably determined that the blood is Theo's, that it's also not fresh. That Theo's held onto the photos for quite some time, and it is not just a craftily fabricated well of sentimentality in the form of an action he could have potentially predicted Corey would make. Corey's chemo signals are like a fizzling bottle containing too many flavors, a rapid-fire Theo can't accurately pin down. The little Theo does get is: grief, anger and above all, the most pronounced being, confusion. Corey tugs out the biggest photo nestled under the others ones, the most tattered and fragile one, where Theo, Tara and their parents are. It's a miracle that it's survived so long, honestly. Theo had crossed his own eyes out in gagged little X's with a permanent marker, alongside the rest of his body, in a fit of self-hatred fueled by three days of zero sleep and profoundly disturbing hallucinations of Tara crawling towards him in the gas station, in the supermarket, in the park, upside down on the inside of the ceiling of his truck. He's a wispy poltergeist on that photo, and also the realest Theo. The last time he was 'Theo' before any interventions.

Corey gently taps it back in place, traces a fingertip over the laminate to touch Josh and Tracy's photos one last time before flipping the wallet shut, carefully. He hands it back to Theo the same way Theo had handed it to him and leaves the truck without a word, apparently having answered enough of his own questions to settle the interrogation for now. 

He doesn't slam the truck's door this time around.

Theo opens the wallet by reflex, flips it closed to place it back in the space in front of the gear shift. After swallowing a heavy sheen of metal coating his mouth, he gets out of the truck, too. 

The others get there not long after Theo has washed his hands at the kitchen sink, trying and failing to eliminate the feeling of Gabe's cooling arm off his skin. Nolan almost loses his shit when he catches the state of Scott, with the rivers of blood down his cheeks from where he'd tried to claw his own eyes out. You can't even pretend he didn't, can possibly imagine it was somebody else.

More pressing is the cramping knowledge that Theo has no place here. Even Nolan has one more than he does. But Nolan is too busy looking at the bullet holes riddling the walls, starting to shake from the all too evident fruits of his actions in the war. Theo snaps his fingers, certain that nobody else will notice the sound apart from Nolan himself. And nobody but Nolan does, indeed, catch the exchange. He hastily makes his way to Theo, possibly too overwhelmed by the warm welcome back's and the 'didn't-think-I'll-see-you-again's to be scared of Theo paying him attention. Especially when the Sheriff and Argent are so close and where there's little room to hide from them. At least Parrish is at the school with Agent McCall, small miracles.

Theo takes a wild guess where the cups are, doesn't know what to thank when he gets it on the first try and takes out two. He pours Nolan water, hands it out to him. Nolan looks from the water to Theo and back, guzzles it down at an admittedly alarming pace. 

Theo's not being nice. And he didn't lie to Corey when he said he couldn't take another scene. This is just avoiding Nolan's impending mental breakdown for as long as possible.

The thanks gets lodged in Nolan's throat by the looks of it, not due to indignation, more so bitter guilt. Theo hears it nonetheless, nods at him to dignify him with an equally nonverbal response. 

Soon after, the rest start a debate which pizza place to order from, then if any pizza place is actually working despite the shit show that went down.  

"Dora is gonna be open." he hears himself say, a little bewildered himself when the words leave his mouth. He gives nobody the chance to comment and texts Liam the number to Dora's store nonetheless. "Tell her I gave you the number, she'll hand you a discount."

They all face him, blinking almost in unison with a quick once-over. Theo only shrugs, fills himself another glass of water. 

Dora is a truly sweet and kind soul in her fifties. The rare people who are a complete match what how they portray themselves on the outside. She first saw Theo in the parking lot of her establishment one morning, after he'd been woken up by two separate deputies that same night and had given up on sleep. She immediately gathered his situation, ultimately gazed at him with sad eyes that understood too much and ushered him in, to a hot cup of coffee and the tastiest special breakfast bagel with a side of eggs, hash browns and bacon he's ever had. It was all on the house. That was well over five months ago. She sometimes calls to see if he's free to help her out (and pay him for it, of course; Theo oftentimes doesn't even want to accept it, it doesn’t feel like a job or a debt). Not once has she asked him of his past or pitied him, and she lets him pay for his meal only once a week, which is an insignificant income to her business considering he has breakfast there almost every day.

“One day, when you’re farin’ a lil bit better, darlin’. Now eat your goddamn bagel, you need to grow, young man!” is what she always tells him without fail.

Liam takes him up on it, phone already out. The bellowing of random orders begins, making Liam throw frantic looks from one person to another and most likely unsuccessfully trying to remember the orders. Theo takes a breath, very slowly goes up to Melissa, almost at a crawl's pace, for his own sake and as a precaution against Argent who hasn't lost him from his sight since he entered the house. 

"Um." his eloquence is trashed after the adrenaline has left him, it seems. "Can I use the bathroom?" 

Melissa's pulse jumps when she takes sight of him, having not spotted him despite his sloth imitation of entering the scene. He deliberately put four feet between them, with her being out of his range. His shoulders and spine aren't ramrod straight like he naturally tends to keep them. Just to maintain the illusion. They all know what he's capable of. Nevertheless, he doesn't want to impose when he's in her home.

Jesus, ever since Liam brought him back it’s a weird experience feeling genuine guilt, supported by its costar need to accommodate people from Scott's pack without an actual motive. The last part might be debatable, entirely dependent on his toleration threshold for the day. It’s a partial motive to not get on Argent’s bad side further than he already has, seeing as he's the one with the most lethal contacts and who can orchestrate a neat little witch hunt for him. But it’s mostly fueled by palpable remorse for his actions.

Melissa takes one look at him, lips pulling into a shaky smile, but she still nods. "Second floor, first door to the right." then, astonishingly, with a deep breath she erases almost all the distance between them to land a warm palm on his shoulder before jumping back to her conversation with Scott.

Theo makes damn well sure he catches exactly nobody's eye, much less Scott's. With Melissa's attention elsewhere he makes himself scarce after a muted thanks and thuds up the stairs. 

He grimaces at the sight of the clean bathroom. White sink worn throughout the years with use, but with an undoubted sheen of glittering cleanliness. It's not going to be clean for long. 

Taking out the bullets still lodged into his shoulder and thigh is a hassle but nothing he's unused to. Or, at least, not unused to the pain of it. Almost a decade with the Doctors ensured his tolerance is monstrous, what with unpredictable interventions and unannounced testings of his limits, that had gone on and on, and the past few years or so he wasn't even surprised when he'd an order to lie still on an operating table in the middle of the night. 

At least the wound from his grazed shoulder has healed.

Theo carefully unsheathes the claws of his right index finger and thumb after taking his shirt off. His body has already started healing around the bullets, meaning he has to pinpoint their exact location through memory alone, also with his sense of feeling out of whack, and make a precise incision. He positions himself over the sink, hip bones flush against the porcelain to keep whatever blood trickles down in the sink.

He drags his index finger horizontally for the first round, a few centimeters under his clavicle, and blood immediately seeps out in rivets. He delves his claws in, to tug out bullet number one with his teeth bared in a silent, pained snarl. 

A sharp clink and it's in the sink. 

By that time the edge of his jeans has caught a good amount of the blood, the material starting to feel uncomfortably wet and sticky. It gets worse when he has to repeat the process after a few seconds. The wound has closed successfully. 

So he does it again. This time he has to dig in further, compelling his lungs to sustain an absolutely steady rhythm while he uses the mirror over the sink as a guide. After twenty painful seconds, his claws losing their brittle hold of the bullet time and time again, he finally managed to snag it out. 

A second clink in the sink.

The next pest is the one that'd made breathing a bitch for the past half an hour - the one that had somehow managed to lodge itself into his sixth rib—which, how the ever living fuck; ricochet? An absurd one. Arguably, this precise little situation should have been his first priority, but the day is fucked and it wasn't because he gaslit himself that he's fine until he really did forget about the bullet in his rib. He has to open a large vertical incision, three times bigger than the previous one, sneak two fingers in and break the rib in a sickening twist to free the bullet, and set it back correctly so it doesn't heal fucking weird. 

A third clink in the sink.

Theo braces his bloody hands on the edge of the porcelain, head hanging between his heavy and hunched shoulders. There's blood dripping from his right elbow, where it'd slid down while he'd re-enacted a gruesome Body Parts game. 

Next is his leg, he muses in an alarming lack of unease at how easy it is to tear himself apart just like Doctors used to. Then he starts thinking about how frail, exactly, everybody is.

Only Liam bursts in before he can even get back into the operating zone. Liam freezes akin to a meerkat on a very noteworthy watch, mid opening his mouth to relay whatever information he'd come to tell Theo. He can only see Theo's side. It's the shish-kebabed one.

Theo straightens, leaves one hand on the cold ceramic to keep himself braced and turns around with raised brows, spits out a "Yes?"

Liam tracks the gaping skin, with the flesh around the bared sixth rib still knitting itself back together. From how he pales further and how abruptly his scent dips and sours, Theo bets said white rib being visible looks way worse to Liam than it is in actuality. At least he hadn't barged in when it was actively broken, after Theo had to break it. Then again, most people haven’t been exposed to human insides since the tender age of nine. He finally catches Theo's gaze, eyes flaring in response to Theo's own golden ones, and then they both call off their shift.

Liam swallows, containing his reaction.

"Liam," Theo forces out, on the brink of starting a yelling match, because fucking choose - enter the room or leave, Liam, what the fuck. "What?"

Liam narrows his eyes, "Why didn't you say something, you asshole?" he hisses, closing the door behind himself, minimizing the distance quickly. 

The slam is like a mocking yowl to the intended privacy initially motivating the action. Liam extends a hand, seemingly in an uncontrolled need to touch, thinks better of it and keeps his hand to himself. That decision doesn’t stop his fingers from shaking and curling in on themselves, distress seeping out of him in fervent waves. Too many emotions in such an enclosed space leave Theo reacting to Liam’s anxiety and fear by reflex, by the instinct he’d developed while shadowing him.

Liam exhales shakily, having noticed the entire scene of blood and bullets, since Theo had given him leeway to look by turning towards him. Blue eyes go progressively stormier as they take blood splatters on the floor, rivets going down his chest, the sink, along with the three stray bullets cluttered together at the bottom of it. “Oh my fucking—”

The door is ripped open again, this time with Scott, Derek and Melissa on the other side. Whatever they’d been expecting, it’s not this. They freeze, like the backup meerkat colony, taking in the stark red on the tiles, in and around the sink, on Theo.

Melissa is the first one to notice Theo’s still bared rib, the healing lagging with the infrequent meals, disastrous nights with little to no sleep and the accumulated stress from Monroe and the Anuk-Ite.

“Jesus.” she whispers, prompting Scott and Derek to put the picture and the meaning together soon after.

Now, instead of dealing only with an appalled Liam, he has four aghast and notably bullheaded members of the McCall pack (hell, the majority of them are bullheaded, it has to be a part of the requirement forms Scott makes them fill out) that are stalling his progress.

“Do you have a self-retaining retractor here?” 

Theo aims it at Melissa, finally unable to deal with the uncomfortable feeling of his body trying to heal around the bullet to the point where pride is absolutely nothing anymore. Especially considering—yeah, it’s a nasty onet hat shatters upon entering the victim and it’s one actually containing wolfsbane. He’d left it for last - it's gonna take out all his energy when he’s done with it. Apparently, Gabe loaded both normal and laced bullets. The only saving grace being that it’s not a strain deadly to Theo, just makes him a lil' nauseous. Aconitum lamarckii, or Northern wolfsbane. How that bitch Monroe got her covetous hands on such a strong European strain is beyond him, but in this case he’s partially grateful. It’s particularly agonizing for werewolves.

It's the part of him that keeps tabs on Liam, constantly, that is overly glad how it was Theo who got shot with it. Had it been the other way around Liam would have died in a horrifically prolonged agony, nervous system going high-ware, raw and enfeebling pain shooting up every single nerve ending. His brain wouldn’t have let him fall unconscious in his last moments, would have forced into staying awake for every single second of the torture. And even if Theo had gotten a hold of a bullet with the same strain to burn it out, it still would have taken a full day for Liam's pain to subside fully, no matter how much they try to pull it out for him. It still would have been three more days before Liam would wake up, much less be able to get up or walk. Monroe smoldered with her self-righteous vengeance and instead of dying like everybody else in this bloody town, turned out to be one cruel psychopath, a true psychopath.

Melissa dashes down the hallway, her reaction literally pulling Theo from his inner spiel to the copper-heavy bathroom. 

“Get out." he rasps, detached. He has to warn them before he continues. "This type of wolfsbane is highly poisonous to werewolves, more so than the usual variety.” 

At that Scott and Derek snap out of their stupor, Liam’s eyes glinting golden so quickly Theo wonders if his body can duck in case the do shoot damn lasers out, the color flickering in and out of existence on a loop. Liam starts controlled and slow, delirious with anger he's trying to contain, “You were shot with wolfsbane bullets," and then voice ups in octave with every word uttered until he’s all but screaming, fangs entirely elongated by the end of it. "And you didn't think you should fucking tell somebody?!"

“It's not lethal to me. Just an annoying sting and some nausea. Unless you wanna die convulsing in the most magnified type of pain you have every felt in your existence, caused by a strain that attacks your entire nervous system the second it enters your bloodstream, central and peripheral, then I suggest you get out, Liam.” Theo clicks his claws one by one in a sequenced pattern, from pinky to index finger, where his hand is still braced on the sink. It vaguely reminds him of a rattle snake, only this time while he is the danger, it's not him directly. It's a weird feeling. It's even weirder having the epiphany under three sets of eyes.

Liam bares his teeth at him, a low rumble starting from deep in his chest, the exact same one from hospital just half an hour ago when Liam ordered him to stay—Theo wonders, in a bit of a daze, whether he’ll feel the reverberation travel along his skin as strongly as he thinks he will if he rests his palm on Liam’s sternum—his now shifted eyes flickering down to the last remnants of exposed millimeters of bone, fixate there. Scott and Derek seem to come to the same conclusion, that Liam is waiting to see the wound close with his own eyes, because they wait alongside him. Before Derek yanks Liam out of the bathroom by the collar of his shirt in such an expert move and with such a trained sway to his hips that Theo almost commends him for it. Just in time for Melissa to patter back with a hefty-looking first-aid kit in her arms. She pays no mind to Liam’s posturing growls, incessant swearing and flailing limbs that try and fail to get Derek off him. 

Argent slithers into the midst of the clusterfuck. Unlike everybody else his reactions, if he has any when he takes in the scene, are internal. The only thing Theo gets from him is shock, which quickly diminishes as his trained mind plasters on the professional mask he wears like an ordinary man would a cologne. Effortlessly slotted into place, not one screw out of its place.

“He said the last one has wolfsbane.” Melissa tips Argent in while she closes the toilet lid and opens the window behind it. Then, she props the first aid kit on the side of the sink and even manages to balance it, heedless of the blood, and opens it. It’s way more advanced than what Theo expected, he'll admit - almost every surgical instrument a doctor would need during an extensive surgery is in there, along with not so few wolfsbane strains in glass vials, for burning purposes.  

Argent turns to Theo, but Theo shakes his head. “Not lethal to me. Aconitum lamarckii.“ the new scrap of information makes Argent grow visibly pale, stricken, even if his scowl deepens. He's undoubtedly the only one as intimately familiar with the majority of the existing strains of wolfsbane as Theo is, as well as their potency, lethality and side effects. “Yeah, she upped her sadism.”

Theo rounds the sink, his back to the toilet, and feels for the bullet hole in the back of his jean clad leg, mentally locates where the exit wound would have been had the bullet indeed left his body. He nicks the jeans vertically until most of his outer thigh is bare when he splays the severed cloth open. He rips the material further, so that nothing gets in his work, and toes his sneakers off. He so doesn’t have the cash to get new ones if his only pair gets drenched in blood. The last one bid him goodbye sometime last week.

He lifts his leg, knee to the edge of the sink for a better visual with the light hitting directly over the cut, foot braced on the toilet lid. It leaves him with the door to his right, and Argent and Melissa to his left. Theo takes the scalpel Melissa had already left out—overly conscious of the protective stance Argent takes, with one arm halfway in front of Melissa, the other reaching for the gun pressed to his lower spine, tucked in the back of his pants—and after a steadying breath and not even a glance in his audience’s direction, he does the first incision. In spite of how deep it is his body immediately starts fighting against it, his vision going soft around the edges, an abrupt inability to swallow following. By memory alone he forces his trembling hand to grab the self-retaining retractor, insert it and start working it open. Melissa and Argent both take a stuttery breath, stunned. Beyond that they do nothing to intervene. 

Well, good thing he’d left this part for last. There are a few pieces he has to dig for to remove and there's sweat beading at his hairline, forehead and temples already, before he’d even begun the extraction. One of them has lodged itself into the femur, into the side of the bone. The adrenaline must prevented him from feeling any of the damage. And it's not unheard of for supernaturals with healing abilities to live a normal, healthy life with regular bullets inside them if they don't have somebody to remove them, or have an innate fear of hospitals.

Outside Derek, along with Malia and Scott, is dealing with a seething Liam who's trying to bulldozer his way back in the bathroom. 

“Let me go!” his speech mingles with the definitely not-human snarl, supplying a mildly concerning image of absolute lack of control on Liam's part.

Mason, Corey, Lydia and the Sheriff have also wrangled their collective efforts to reason with him from a distance, from the stairs if Theo has to gauge. When the door to the bathroom opens yet a-fucking-gain Theo is ready to chew that somebody out. What he doesn’t expect is for Stiles stumbling his way in with a sleek black box reeking of even more wolfsbane strains. 

Stiles almost drops the damn thing at the sight of Theo’s upper thigh gaping and held open, blood seeping out freely. Worst of all, the idiot doesn’t close the door so the mock murder scene is finally on gull display for everybody outside to witness firsthand. They all halt, comically so. Except, Liam renews his trashing against Derek and Malia’s hold abruptly enough for them to nearly lose grasp of him as he zeroes on the retractor and the gleaming blood staining Theo’s inner thigh, still trickling out in a not so comforting fashion.

Theo looks away from him to take out the shard closest to the surface. “Somebody close the door. The fumes are dangerous to them.” he says to nobody in particular, methodical in his scheme of numbering shards by priority.

Melissa kicks the door shut with a swift strike of her foot. Stiles tries to say whatever exclamation of how sick he’s gonna be, complexion going a little green. “Oh my God.” he whines instead, handing the black box to Argent like it’s part of a hazardous contamination, unable to look away from Theo's working process. Surprisingly he keeps any and all commentary to himself.

Liam is going berserk by the sound of all the thumps on various walls, accompanied by Scott’s further softened murmur and Derek and Malia’s grunts of strain.  

“It’s not poisonous for him, you heard Theo himself say it.” Scott reasons, but Liam won't or doesn't want to listen. ”But it is for us. If you go in there now, it’ll just stop him from taking care of himself.” 

Argent, in the meantime, has crouched and placed the box on the clean portion of the floor—because of course he's above dirtying his neat belongings, the pedantic fuck—to slide the clasps open and reveal a truly stunning, as well as terrifying, collection of wolfsbane strains. There’s over a hundred, given the little levels splaying on each side, unravelling the further he pulls it open. Neat rows upon rows of wolfsbane.

Theo shudders, both at that sight and the sensation of his successful hunt, dropping shard number six in the sink. “That’s last. I’m gonna faint when I put the ashes in there.”

He tunes out the house afterwards. He can’t afford to have anything but his undivided attention on the wound. The amount of adrenaline in his system has upped considerably, but the inevitable crash due to him fervently trying to calm himself down is going to knock him off his feet. Most likely in the literal sense of the words. Unfortunately, that’s the only method he can currently utilize to do the job expeditiously and with maximum efficiency. Hypovolemia is not a condition he’s overly fond of when his body is fatigued to this extent. He's lucky he didn't have to open up his inner thigh or any big arteries, or he'd have mere minutes to avoid aforementioned hypovolemic shock.

It’s already taking a toll on him, forcing him to stop halfway lest he wants to black out on the spot. 

“Can I help?” Melissa promptly asks when it's obvious he's not focused. 

Theo shakes his head. “Think it’s better if you all step back. I’m close to the deeper shards and when I get to the one in my femur I might lose control.” he catches Argent’s eye, mouths gun, so the others outside can’t hear. 

A beat of silence from behind the door, and:

“Did he just—in his femur?!” whatever progress Scott accomplished with Liam swiftly goes down the drain as evident by Liam’s uncoiled roar. A shiver runs down Theo's spine from the sheer force of it.

Argent levels Theo with a heavy stare, the confused and highly suspicious sides of him warring with one another. Both born out of the question floating in his head - why would Theo willingly ask Argent to pull a gun on him when he’s at his most vulnerable, therefore putting an insane amount of trust in him to not land a bullet in Theo’s head at the slightest provocation? 

It’s not a hard equation. It’s a necessary precaution, given Theo is at wit’s end. If something happens, loud enough to startle him, he's going to react by instinct alone. Which would most definitely hurt at least one human in his direct vicinity. If even a hair falls off one of their heads, any remaining hope for his freedom is lost and they’ll either chain him to this town until they see fit or let Argent ‘take care of him’. Or. They might send him back to the downstairs department, back to Tara’s cold fingers in his chest cavity.

Yeah, he doesn't want the last one. Definitely not the last one.

It’s only a matter of self-preservation through gathered data of people’s actions and reactions given certain circumstances. Theo wants to live his life. Whatever that is and however he's allowed. And if he hates it, fuck it, he'll leave permanently. He can’t see if he hates it if he lashes out and lands a hit. And, in the end, better be dead than sign his own slave contract or his permanent residence with Tara. Simple as that.

In the end Argent does pull the gun out, causing Stiles to crash into the nearby wall in sputtering and flabbergasted shock. Even Melissa is taken aback, brown eyes dinner plate-wide. It’s kind of a dick move; they can’t say anything unless they want the disaster in the hallway to blow out of even bigger proportions.

Argent keeps the gun it pointed down, aimed at the tiles. He’s astounded to a degree where he can’t camouflage his scent. Only when Theo nods does he lift it, a finger on the safety, his opposite hand steadying the weapon and another finger tucked over the trigger. If he pulls the safety now Scott might barge in himself. People like him don’t understand the sometimes brutal but necessary precautions that need to be fixated in place, in order to forestall the situation from becoming an actual tragedy.

“What’s going on?” Liam asks, having apparently caught the shift of the scents in the bathroom. Scott keeps on talking away, voice low and soothing, the Sheriff tuning, too.

Theo takes the surgical pliers, braces himself. Six more to go. 

Inhale, hold for five seconds to shut down every other task in his brain but the one at hand. Exhale for five more to make sure nothing will get in the way of his concentration. And he’s rearin’ up to go.

The deeper he has to dig, the more trouble his brain has holding the alarm pacified, the more he feels the wound and the fucking movement of the instruments shifting inside him. The less he can channel the forced apathy and acceptance he’d developed after he realized the Doctors weren’t ever going to use an anesthetic despite how deep they kept going. 

And after a few more minutes of calculated plucking of bullet shards, the last one remaining is the motherfucker in his femur he’d left for dessert.

He heaves, cold sweat dripping down his face, neck, front and back. The intact parts of jeans are plastered on him like a second skin. Theo grits his teeth, hears his molars grind together. He has to pull it out, but it’s not coming out. It’s not.

Fear trickles in, quickly stomped down by the ingrained defense mechanism of partial dissociation. Melissa tries to take a step forward, her professional inclinations activating her own deeply fixed decisiveness to help those in need.

“Melissa.” Argent warns, low but pleading. An unexpected cloud of aggravation forms and clings to her. She doesn't intervene, after having received the reminder.

“We should really let one of the others—I mean, if he can’t pull it out, it’s—there’s a lotta blood is all I’m sayin’.” Stiles tries to articulate himself with his arms flinging up, and misses by a long shot. Argent must have signaled something to him; he shuts up.

Argent is firm, if with a gentle tone, when he tells them, “No.” he’s not going to be swayed.

Good.

“Liam, no.” Scott echoes him, the rumble of true alpha permeating the two words. “Theo?”

Theo halts, wasting precious time while his infrastructure is actively collapsing in on itself. “Just one more.” his voice is deliberately confident, to alleviate Scott’s situation and to hopefully convince Liam to pipe the fuck down.

When he gets a hold of the last shard with the pliers he feels the tug in his bone. At this point he can't fool himself into the argument that he's seen worse shit than a splayed open thigh and that he’s had to take care of numerous mutilated carcasses. It's different when it's his own leg he's digging into, when he's the one doing the reshaping. 

Theo pulls, almost loses balance, growling when it still doesn't come out. Argent takes a breath. With the situation at hand he can't ask for verbal confirmation that Theo is on the surface and not the caged animals.

Theo waves his free hand, in an affirmative, then runs it through his hair with how little fucks he has to spare of the blood. He looks at Argent, holds up the same hand he'd waved with and retracts his claws. He re-extends them again and looks away, slowly placing them under the thigh of his gaping leg, to show he's coherent despite the shift. He tunes everybody out, and he digs them through jeans and flesh, like hooks, a last attempt to anchor himself physically and throw his remaining strength into the last pull.

"Jesus fuck." he catches Stiles finally cover his eyes with his palm cupped over them. 

Theo pulls.

The sound is sick, not even loud, but jarring. Maybe he's biased, what with being able to feel it come free from his bone and all. 

Theo throws it, long and alarmingly blade-like, along with the pliers straight into the sink with a loud clatter. He nudges the scalpel in there for good measure and extracts the claws from his hamstring with a slick snick of a sound. He's on the floor soon after, on his back, unable to even reach for the retractor.

Melissa is at his side, burning the wolfsbane from one of the glass vials in a small metal bowl, pouring the ashes directly into the wound. Immediately after she removes the retractor so he can finally heal. He barely feels it, the burn of the ashes hurt more than usual due to the severity of the wound, or the strength of the strain. 

It's Mason and Corey who enter the bathroom when he starts experiencing minor convulsions. All the werewolves are unable to enter until the wolfsbane is properly burned, and preferably aired out.

"Mase?" Liam bangs the door, most likely hoping his best friend won't keep him out of the loop like everybody else is.

Theo is too incoherent to monitor Mason and Corey's reactions, only picks up the stinging horror in their scents, hadn't noticed he'd closed his eyes until he tries to use them and can't. Fuck it, his nose is enough. Screw sight and hearing for the moment. 

His claws haven't retracted. At one point between Melissa pouring the ashes and Mason and Corey barging in his other hand has extended the remaining claws as well. He digs them into the tiles, determined to stay conscious and track the healing process of the incision through feeling alone. 

Even when another person enters the cramped bathroom Theo doesn't extend his senses to them. A decision he wouldn't have made if coherent. Argent has a gun pointed at him, he's alone around people who would rather him drop dead, preferably permanently sent back to rot in the skinwalker prison. How low he's slumped, to not even give a damn about it. 

Theo from before wouldn't have closed his eyes on them, would have crawled to a corner to shove his back against a wall for a full visual of all exits and people in the room, would have watched them like a descending hawk for any sign of movement, no matter the pain and how tired his body felt.

Theo from the present just can't be bothered. He's too weak to fight either way. Might only put on a show just so he gets a bullet between the eyes instead of handing them ample time to reassemble Kira's sword. Can they send a corpse down there. It might be possible to lock a soul, if he has one, in that nightmarish purgatory. But that too is a back thought that is far removed from him, along with the rest of his self-preservation instincts, akin to a trance. 

Then there's a cacophony of sounds he can't seem to screen with ease anymore.

"I thought he said just nausea. Why isn't he healing?" Melissa. That's Melissa.

A wham against the door. Scott, Liam, Malia and Derek arguing, shouting and snapping, more animal than human. 

Unimportant, he filters it out.

"Uh, given how far he had to pumpkin carve himself I think any type of body, supernatural or not, would go into shock. And am I the only one seeing all the blood? Look at that puddle. There’s at least two pints in here. Outside. Not in his body, might I add." Stiles. And by the swooshing sounds, he’s manically waving his arms about. "Don't look at me like that, dad! You didn't see—"

"Not now, Stiles." ah, so the newcomer is the Sheriff. 

Corey, Mason and Argent are awfully silent. Might be the gun. Might be the lack of fucks to give. Might be the morals fighting whether they should let the psycho who wronged them so much just die already or not. Knowing Theo's luck, it's the second one. All his senses apart from hearing and feeling have fled the ship, a scary realization that should have rattled him enough into at least opening his eyes. 

"He won't stop bleeding." Melissa mutters, firmly presses what feels like a towel to his gaping wound. 

The ongoing conversations do nothing to aid the situation outside. That grates on his nerves more than his inability to heal. Liam's anger impacted him from the get-go of the amateur surgery, stalled Theo's progress enough to force him into autopilot regime, which landed him here, with his body forcibly enduring too much in a too short period of time. He knows it’s the IED taking grip of Liam's brain, doesn’t blame him for that, for something out of his control. But it always pissed him off how Liam doesn’t try even enough to find a stable anchor. Not to say he doesn’t try at all. Just not insistently, not as much of the potential will in it, sometimes too cocky that there'll always be somebody from his pack to lend a shoulder or a diversion. He has few considerations of the consequences. Then shit like this happens and he has to be contained. He's afraid of his actions, yet doesn’t extend the same amount of energy to instill a new form of grounding when, fucking evidently, nothing prior to that works anymore.

Though, that's not quite true, is it?

One thing.

One thing does work and it shouldn’t. It shouldn’t work and yet here they are, staring at the proof time and time again. The zoo, Gabe at the locker room, really any time Liam couldn't subjugate his manically careening wrath. And none of the little cretins that are his pack are doing anything to separate Liam from Theo, so he has to do it by his own will and effort.

But he's just Theo, the flashy science experiment nobody trusts because he forced them not to by himself, served his own plate of freshly plucked loathing even. Except for Liam. At least on a subconscious level. It's why Theo has separate them. He will always remain a manipulative bastard with an ulterior motive. It's the only thing he truly knows down to its core, the only outcome he's ever had to seek out, and the one art of life he's mastered. And in his current state he can't trust himself on the best of days, much less the dark and desolate ones, which presently are the predominant mood.

What if he defects again? What if he twists that instinctual trust Liam has for him and ruins him for it? What if he uses it for his own gain and destroys what makes Liam uniquely Liam? 

He tried. He can't. He can't separate them. Liam is the thing helping his ruptured seems hold against the pressure of what feels like his imminent insanity. It's not even using him as a tool to his survival. It's the child holding on and refusing to let go. And so his hands refused to sever the string. They don't want to heed his commands anymore. 

Theo's throat closes up for just a second, and he takes a sharp breath. He'd sunk too deep into his mind. He'd almost slipped under.

And he's lost time. It's less loud now. Still loud, but tolerable maybe.

His brain rebels against the noise nonetheless, smiting him with cutting pain in his ears and a nasty recollection of where he left off in his rant. He bites into his inner cheek. So meticulously structured by his desperation and enforced self-control it loathes the chaos surrounding him, currently and in general, liked it only when it benefited him while he was decimating Scott’s pack. Theo with the human emotions, unlike his brain, struggled to rein the part of him that cares all too much about Liam, almost too weak to stop it from reaching out and lending a teaching hand. Then he caved and he did. He kept on lending it. And those absolute cretins did jack shit to prevent it from happening while also doing nothing to de-escalate it. So now his ears hurt from a fucking pissing match between Liam and whoever is in his way, because his goddamn anchor's life is at stake. All because of everybody, either as a result of cretin syndrome or Theo's now poor Liam-impulse control.

There we go.

The pissed off cycle in his head should have infinite fuel, and its fumes he will emit as snark and snide comments outwardly if he can wrangle himself back online.

He can almost think. A little more spite, then.

Did he mention the McCall's pack affinity to cretinism? No? He wants to accentuate it in a neat reminder and mount it as a warning sign right in front of the cheery 'Welcome to Beacon Hills' one. He'll make it ugly, too. Just because he can.

And,

He can breathe.

It's a pathetic and lonely realization, that he has to resort to anger born out of absurd monologues for an ounce of will to live.

"Liam, shut up." he hisses out in a wrung out whisper, his fingers fully human, and incapable of latching onto the tiles with how close eternal sleep he is.

Eternal sleep sounds good, actually.

Wait. Ounce of will to live. He had that. In his hand. 

Hold, the wolf rumbles. Theo does, he holds onto it.

Miracle of miracles: quiet.

Until, "But—"

"Shut up." Theo repeats, almost inaudible. There isn't even power or command behind it, in spite of the opted words. It's a plea. He hopes Liam actually hears is, the little hand keeping that string is sure of its success.

A heart beat.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Silence.

He did hear.

Theo swallows and turns his head, cheek pressing into the cold tile in search of some solace from the fire raking havoc in his veins, from the vivid, all-consuming pain. It's kind of comforting, in a fucked up way. He's familiar with it. But with his mental walls down, the fail safes he'd developed—single-handedly constructed and nurtured year after year so he could extend his phantasm existence in this sadistic world—just collapse into charred, black dust. It's a foul reminder how little control he has over anything in his life.

In a final attempt to jump start his body he warns, "Step back. I’m gonna shift." the last part is more a warning to Argent. He’s no idea if the gun is still on him or not, better safe than sorry.

Theo shakily and with barely any remnants of vivacity turns on his side. His jeans are ruined either way, so he releases his wolf with no guilt to the lost material, no thoughts of where he’ll have to steal from again. Just instinct in its purest form.

Somebody gasps in the background as the shift takes over, the wolf crawling up to the surface to shatter the over-analyzing human's monologue and leave him with only basal senses. With that everything else can filter in, including the suffocating sounds. Theo remains curled, his wounded leg the only part of his body to stay extended, his snout almost in contact with it with how firmly he's woven into himself. 

There. 

Now he can breathe, can just be. The memories linger in the periphery, with the heinous ghosts in wait to steal his carefully conserved sanity finally shoved aside. He doesn't have to relive anything behind his eyes, doesn't have to think. There is nothing. He is practically nothing.

The wolf reacts before he even knows what's happening, baring its teeth at whoever tries to near them. 

"Yeah, nope, let's not do that." Stiles shoots out, high-pitched, and all hell breaks loose when Argent pulls the safety. 

Theo's eyes flare open and is up on his paws a moment later. The injured leg gives under him, but he has enough leverage to slam himself against the cabinet and drawers under the sink to cover his back. While in his canine form his heart rate is naturally higher, so it means that when it's thudding with the pain, the threat and the tension, it provokes the not-his heart to accelerate further and make the ache worse. Then also have him bleed faster as a result of it all. 

His ears are pinned back and flat against his skull, lying still in wait for Argent's next move. Or for his own demise at this point. Just one regular bullet and it's over, Theo is over.

The thought shouldn't make it feel like a liberation of sorts, yet does just that. 

He's started relaxing into the cabinet doors in pained and tired surrender when Scott bellows from the hallway: "Chris, wait!"

Upon a quick inspection his chemo signals are positively chaotic. He did a stellar job of keeping them at bay for the entire duration of the play and now it's come to bite him back. It's wasteful energy. Theo doesn't mind this outcome anymore. 

Not a single ounce left.

Liam must have bided his time and must have stripped himself free of all his titan keepers. He enters—barges into, more like—the bathroom. Technically, Melissa neutralizing the wolfsbane has counteracted any traces of the strain in the air that could have potentially affected the rest, it's not like there's a possibility of death, other than Theo who looks like the literal animal (monster, abomination, freak) they unanimously think he is.

Theo makes one last attempt to live and chooses that moment to lunge himself at the tub, uncovered by the curtain that's partially drawn from whoever had used the space last. Argent won't have time to shoot him and keep an eye on the unveloping drama to maintain his ground control position at the same time. He emits a high hurt noise upon impact with the inside of the tub, his jump successful even if he had to go past Corey and Mason to get there. 

Once he’s secure he coils himself tighter, the cold of the white porcelain a mild amenity to his exerted and overheated body. He pants, leg spasming with the incision having torn open further at the sudden unadvised movement. The pain has increased tenfold, not unlike acid meticulously poured on his bared muscles and flesh. He still curls it stiffly, tail poorly covering it so it's as far out of sight as it can be, in hopes that it starts healing properly. 

Silence. Complete silence. Only multiple heartbeats and scents betray the presence of the others. 

He growls, needing a little time to put together that it's Liam who took the herculean task of nearing the feral supernatural, Liam who is less than a foot away from the tub. The wolf is convinced it doesn't matter. Nowhere is safe, nobody is a friend. He's alone and more vulnerable than a child, can't even run, and it's not like it would have mattered if he could. He can't get past this room, isn't sure he'll be able to get up either. They might not give him an opportunity to find out. He can't see Argent or the Sheriff but he just fucking knows they're having a ferocious but silent argument where to position themselves for the kill shots and who gets dibs. If it was Theo he’d go for the skull, preferably one in the forehead, one through the temple just in case.

Liam remains stock still, golden eyes observing him from above and his chest rapidly going up and down with how hard he's breathing. His parted mouth reveals his sharp fangs. 

The wolf remains unrelenting in its lack of trust. While it's true that Liam might be, quite possibly, the only good thing in his forlorn reality, might be the sole person able to bring out the softer side—admittedly one Theo thought was cauterized beyond any recognition and repair that day on the bridge—of him, he's still part of the pack that sent him to what was a pure form of hell.

So what if he brought us back, the wolf reasons, he's not on our side when we're not useful.

And,

The sword was disassembled, not destroyed, it reminds him insistently.

Theo makes himself forget; the wolf never will, nor will it forgive. True, it was a deserved punishment at the time. But the reason he was brought back was to be used as what he's best at. Being a weapon with field experience, is what they'd needed at the time. And they got it. Look at him now, slumped in a bathtub filling with his own blood. Who's to say they won't open the door to Tara's lovely doom hotel any second? It's the same arguments the wolf keeps on hurling at him day after day, in different variations depending on the situation, reluctant of the weakness in the form of the one and only Liam Dunbar. It's terrified of that kid for how deep he'd dug his claws into Theo, because it's Theo who operates the body and has the biggest amount of control over it. The comedic punch is that Liam most likely isn't even aware of the immense, close to infinite, power he has over Theo.

And Theo can't get him out. Oh, he had plenty of signs. Plenty. He took none. He was stupid, just as much of a cretin as the others.

By the time he finally dedicated effort to do something about it he was already slipping in his own mental prison, and the coyote, ever cunning, had steadfastly stated its blood-lust once Theo was incapable of stopping it from vigorously pinging online. But when Theo realized it hadn't meant 'blood-lust' in the widest sense of the word, he'd known it was too late, drenched in cold sweat one night in the back of his truck with the loud ring of the consequence - the coyote wanted to sink its teeth in Liam's willingly bared throat.

To possess and be possessed.

Blood for blood, blood of a bond, not of a kill as it had initially started. One between beloveds, because no sane supernatural creature would submit the most guarded part of its body to anything but that. The cherry on top was the night after the zoo, when the wolf resonated with the same need that scantly protruded from its burial site patrolled by the inherent instinct to lash and protect from the very risk Liam posed to their safety. 

It was why Theo hauled his ass to the hospital when Scott called and asked him to. He begged. The single reason behind that act would have been Liam's, at the time, very possibly inevitable death. So Theo went.

He had his elevator moment, the downright perfect two to fuck knows how many hunters, and they took them. They took all of them. It's just a mirage, though. 

Liam won't be as trusting to do it again.

Liam is a—

Threat threat threat threat threat, the wolf's chant fragments his thoughts. Rightfully so.

"Theo?" Liam speaks with his human teeth catching the light, fangs gone. 

Theo maintains his growl. His nails clack against the tub as he tries to simultaneously become one with it and further hide his leg. It's a mistake. A spasm forces the limb to fully extend again, bringing it to Liam's attention. Golden eyes widen in slow motion, already pale face further losing all of its color. 

Liam adopts a determined look, with his brows lax and his lips pinched tight, akin to the elevator hours back when he'd said, But I will... fight with you.

Threat, he's a threat, don't let him fucking near you, the wolf frantically dictates. No other threat now means he's fighting against you. Not with. Against. You're the threat to him and his. So he's our threat.

Liam pulls at the curtain, just barely, to—

Theo clicks his teeth together. Stay away, is what he means to convey. 

Mason and Corey simultaneously exclaim, "Liam, wai—"

Liam gets in either way, starts sliding into the opposite side of the tub. 

"Oh my God." 

"Stiles, shut up." Derek hisses, also possibly the one who whacks him. 

Liam speaks no further, ever so slowly maneuvers himself inside foot by foot, even gives Theo his back for the two seconds it takes him to fully turn to face him. He brings his knees up, not to his chest, only halfway there, rests his elbows on them to loosely thread his fingers together. 

After that the only movement is from his chest and the blinks of his still-flared eyes. Their gazes stay locked but Theo makes no novice misstep and keeps his attention on everybody in the house. 

One by one, they filter out of the bathroom. 

The wolf is confused, hackles rising further. Unexpected developments rarely bring good outcomes with themselves. It's a calculated retreat to make him lose his edge, to further weaken him. Like hell he's falling for it.

Question is, why not just shoot him and get it over with so they can have their gigantic pack dinner and forget about the world, about Monroe, if for a night? Theo isn't a part of it either way.

Theo shifts his head enough to keep an eye Liam and track Scott who closes the door to leave the three of them alone. Scott sits on the closed toilet lid, mimicking Liam's position to the T, such an eerie behavior given he can't see Liam behind the shower curtain. It makes Theo question whether there's some form of telepathy between a true alpha and their first bitten beta, even though he knows there isn't because what the Doctors knew, he knows as well.

"Theo, it's okay." Scott uses the same brand of soothing intonation he'd applied to Liam just minutes ago. Theo's no imbecile. Malia, Derek, Argent and the Sheriff are outside, ready to interfere at any given moment. "Can you understand me?"

Theo ponders the pros and cons of confirming. If he does, they'll talk him into sleep with goody two-shoes speeches. If he doesn't, they'll treat him like a feral and foaming at the mouth dog they have to subdue before they tie the collar, or noose, around its neck. It's a lose-lose situation. Somehow, being irritated to death sounds better.

Theo nods his head, catching the twin sighs of relief in response to it. However, his awareness of the situation is not an equal to the clinical side Theo manages to maintain while around them. He’s still more feral than human.

"I know you shifted to help accelerate the healing process. Derek told me before, that full shift helps to lock out the loud human thoughts. So it's okay. You can stay that way as long as you need." Scott carries on, and Theo finally slants him a look.

He receives a threadbare and tired, but genuine, smile for his effort, with dimples and all. Then Scott's face goes pinched when he inevitably takes in the bloodied sink and floor, a somewhat lost and troubled expression slotting in place the more he pieces the scene to put together a better formed picture. Eh, Theo’s had worse than that, has practically seen most of his internal organs. This is nothing.

Theo tries to curl his leg once more. It seizes, forcing the muscles to grow taut and keep it straight. He tries three more times with an identical result before he ferociously digs his teeth into the fur near the incision, in silent canine outrage. Being in his wolf form makes it hard to contain such primordial demeanor, resulting in his sometimes childish eruptions.

“Hey, quit that!” Liam’s voice is firm and distressed, his palm slotting under Theo’s lower jaw to tug his head up and stop the self-destructive behavior. 

They both realize the act at the same time - Liam hauls his hand back just in time to avoid Theo’s teeth closing around the space it vacated in a powerful clack. He snarls, manages to somehow fold further into himself. Liam’s grimace is one of regret. 

“He’s burning up.” Liam states, tugging the curtain away to look at Scott. “Wolves don’t sweat, do they?”

Scott straightens up a bit, focusing on his mental resources. “No, they don’t.” he confirms. They turn to look at Theo, then at the faucet directly over Theo, and to the shower head above it. “The plug is still in the drain.” Scott adds as an afterthought, intention clear.

Theo snaps, chest thundering with the oscillation of a renewed growl. He tries to back up further, nails rattling on the porcelain bottom with his ears flush to his skull. 

Liam takes a deep breath, in an attempt to even out his scent like Scott has. He begins to lower himself on his knees, as slow and careful as a cat running from a confrontation, then braces his hands to leave most of his weight on his legs folded underneath him. He extends one arm, in the same sluggish motion. Theo tracks it, gradually shifting to the right side of the tub where the wall is. He refuses to acknowledge this might have been a deliberate manipulation of positioning on Liam’s side, to let Theo have a simultaneous view of Liam, his offending limb and Scott. 

Liam swallows, throat clicking. “I’m gonna turn on the faucet, okay? Just the faucet.” he informs Theo. He’s close now. Too close. His hand still can't reach the faucet. "Might be a little cold.” he nervously chuckles the more distance he erases. The jittery energy doesn’t extend to his limbs.

Theo’s impressed by the display of fixed and unwavering restraint, not that he’ll admit it like he did at the zoo with Mykonos.

Liam stops all of a sudden, golden eyes flickering out and back to blue, as if he’d forgotten he’d kept them flared the entire time. He catches Theo’s gaze and while maintaining it, surely offers his inner right forearm. When Theo does nothing he shakes it in his face, brings it in even more palpable proximity to Theo’s snout. It presses Theo to curl his upper lip, feeling it dimple and wrinkle as he uncovers his teeth. Liam stays, eyes intense, intending to convey a message Theo apparently doesn’t get.

“Here.” he murmurs, unimposing. “If I do something you don’t like, you just have to bite down. Alright?” 

Theo glances at Scott who hasn’t moved an inch from his seat on the toilet lid. He just shrugs, suspiciously uninvolved. 

Theo’s jaws automatically part once Liam presses his arm to his mouth, teeth clasping around soft, bare skin. Vulnerable. Neither Liam, nor Scott shout out in dismay. 

“See?” Liam gently shifts his captive arm up and down, Theo’s head moving along with it, to reiterate that he can’t get free. Theo’s fangs haven’t pierced it but the flesh under them is white from the firm pressure. “If I do anything you don’t like, you just bite down.”

Like it’s that simple. Theo feels like he’s missed pages upon pages of plot.

Liam then proceeds his journey to the faucet, with that same fucking arm. The wolf is further baffled. Heavily wounded or not, he can still tear Liam’s forearm off, even if Liam is the stronger one between the two of them. Only, Theo has an abundance of experience, cultivated from years of fights, lore examination and various physical enhancements. 

Liam is also keeping his weight on his knees and his other hand, still braced on the bottom of the tub, with no leverage. One pull from Theo and he’ll lose the balance, resulting in him falling headfirst, leaving his throat at Theo’s mercy. The other fact is, his neck is already in an exposed and defenseless position with how he has to reach over Theo to pull the faucet. Just because Theo has something between his teeth doesn’t mean he’s not swift enough to strike at it. Where Liam has the strength, Theo compensates for that weakness with speed and agility. And all of the people in this room are painfully conscious of it, from very personal and hard to forget form of experience. So this, what can only be described as trust that Liam is handing over freely, is more than a little mystifying and earth-shattering. 

Theo lurches when cold water hits his fur. 

“Shit, sorry, sorry.” Liam amends, corrects the temperature to cool. 

The noise from the falling water is too close, too loud, enough to cover up any small sounds of the house. That in itself ups his apprehension. The tub filling with crisp water mildly eats away at it, a refreshing sensation zinging up and down his spine, spreading to the rest of his fur in a shiver. He wasn’t even aware of how suffocating the heat was up until this moment. 

Once the tub is filled to whatever invisible limit Liam had set he cuts the water off. Theo’s wounded leg is above it, incision not in contact with it. Half of his coat is soaked with how the faucet had dripped directly onto it; it’d thickened recently and it’ll be a bitch to dry later. The revitalization is worth it. His hold on Liam’s forearm loosens. It’s part of the mute communication bubble - he doesn’t let go but Liam can retract it if he truly wants to, without getting it ripped apart.

With no new anxiety-inducing development his body continues the healing process seamlessly, restoring tissues muscle group by muscle group, incision and his own deep claw marks alike. Liam flaps at the accumulated water with his free palm to get his attention, nodding at his injury.

“We need to get the blood out, clean you up.” 

“Liam.” Scott steps in before Theo can show his dissatisfaction at the topic. 

“But—”

“Don’t push it.” is what Scott reminds him, not unkindly. 

And he's right. Theo won't permit touch in this state, nor will the wolf. What Liam doesn’t know is that had it been different circumstances it wouldn’t be a problem, Theo would be all too pathetically on board having that same hand in his coat.

He also finally realizes that Scott isn't here as a 'just in case Theo does lunge at them' fail safe like what they're all probably thinking. He's here to observe Liam and make sure he won't do something stupid by not reading the situation accordingly. Scott is more proficient with supernatural know-how than Liam when it comes to body language and finer chemo signals you need to be watching for in order to efficiently catch. Theo would scoff at the notion even, if every action since it's been the three of them hadn't suggested otherwise.

It's another tick in the what the fuck column in Theo's head.

Liam grumbles under his breath and settles in the tub so he’s sitting in it now, jeans soaked through and with his back to Scott. He’s not even attempting to dislodge Theo’s jaws from his right arm. He then focuses on the steadily closing cut, observing it with the same intensity he'd had for the one at Theo’s ribs, when the fiasco had started. 

Theo extends his hearing. Argent, the Sheriff, Derek and Malia are dead silent, still outside. Mason and Corey are explaining the situation to Lydia and Nolan while Melissa is trying to make Stiles shut up (ha).

“I mean it’s good you guys got rid of that bathroom rug, ‘cuz it’d be a murder-esque rug now.” Stiles continues. “How is he even—wait, is the blood gonna stain the tile grout? Oh God, I hope not. Wait, bleach! We’ll use bleach! Or hydrogen peroxide, whatever.”

“Stiles.” Melissa sighs, tired of what seems to be the end of a tirade. “Stop it.”

Theo further stretches his ears, to the birds outside. There’s the rev of engines, the lingering smell of pie from the house three blocks down, the heavy perfume the grandma on the same block uses. 

Once he’s regained some of his equilibrium he lets go of Liam’s forearm, noses his own injury whilst splaying in the tub freely, to soak more of his fur in water. He rests his jaw on the lip of the tub, stares out the window next to Scott. 

His pulse is as steady as it can get, eyelids drooping. Scott and Liam's have evened out as well. About damn time, there's finally no more worry to clog Theo's sinuses. 

He flicks an ear in the window's direction, at the sound of the approaching vehicle. The scent of freshly baked goods means it's the delivery of whatever they ordered. Dora never disappoints. 

Liam looks over his shoulder, at Scott, leaving the expanse of his throat bare right next to Theo's fucking face, the little prick. In moments like these Theo wonders if Liam truly is that dense and unaware. Being a werewolf has deepened his instincts in every sense; familial, platonic and sexual displays are altered permanently. He can't be this negligent, he's not stupid for fuck's sake.

"Liam." Scott lifts his brows expectantly. "Theo needs to change, food is here."

Liam's lips twitch. With one last glance to Theo he extracts himself from the tub, careful to not cross any boundaries. Still, a finger drags over one of Theo's perked ears, earning him a half-hearted nip. Liam snorts, but when he sees the sink the easy atmosphere melts away. His jaw works, the careful way he has to sidetrack the blood and the puddles further seems to make him tick. He yanks the door open, stomps down the hallway and stairs.

Scott uncurls himself, "There's food downstairs, if you want, and there's spare clothes in the drawer here." he taps the second pull-out drawer under the sink, on a part that isn’t soiled.

Theo nods when it becomes evident Scott is waiting for his response. Scott nods at him too, smiles and closes the door when he leaves. 

None of them talk on the way down. Theo blinks exhaustion out of his vision, shuts down his conscious supernatural hearing, entrusting it to his wolf to warn him if anything in the background goes south. 

The room being in disarray is a hell of an understatement. He sighs, waits for the wound to become pink scar tissue and shifts back into human form. There's still internal damage healing, he has to be careful with how he moves. His shower is quick and clinical, to get the dirt, grime and multiple stenches off him. 

Theo doesn't bother putting clothes on yet, takes the detachable shower head and starts cleaning the blood. It's dried up in some places, the puddle at the sink having coagulated in the appearance of nasty slime. The damn opened window has accelerated the process with the chilly air. There's a drain between the tub and the middle of the bathroom, at least. With that shit out of the way, he digs out the cleaning supplies to disinfect and erase any lingering traces of blood. 

His nose doesn't protest, in need to abolish the coating of iron on his tongue and in his nostrils. The synthetic orange fragrance covers every crevice, extinguishing the coppery stench. He abundantly sprays the tub, the tiles around the sink, the sink itself and the doors of the cabinet and the pull-out drawers. Next he scrubs all sprayed surfaces diligently, leaving the inside of the sink for last. 

Theo cleans the used steel surgical instruments, rearranges them back in their place in the first-aid kit and places it on top of the window sill. The bullets and bullet shards he props next to it, on a thick wad of toilet paper, so he can scrub the inside of the sink along with the faucet. 

The rinsing part is his favorite, watching the foam travel down the drain, leaving behind the glinting white surfaces spotless once more. Pristine. Like he was never there to soil it.

Next are the clothes and a towel to dry himself off from the second pull-out drawer - gray sweatpants, black socks and a black thermal shirt. They're a little tight on him, but he'll deal. Just before he pulls the sweatpants all the way up, he investigates the scar tissue to find it's nearly gone. The impromptu therapy session in the form of the bathroom scrub down has helped as he'd hoped it would in restoring his calm and diminishing his stress levels. 

His ripped clothes he gathers into a plastic back scavenged from one of the drawers, after he fishes his car keys out of the jean pocket and deposits them in his sweatpants pocket, ties it tight.

Theo debates throwing himself out of the window to make a hasty escape at the face of trotting downstairs and being subjected to the staring and more than possible comments. He can survive without dinner, no matter the fact that he hasn't eaten anything but the stray bagel that morning. 

Three heartbeats edge close. Scott, Argent and Melissa. 

A polite knock. 

With his plan sullied Theo opens the door. He gets to relive the instant shock from an hour ago. Only Argent hides how taken aback he is at the spotless bathroom, previously a countess Bathory's slaughterhouse wannabe-imitation. 

"Theo." Scott is admonishing, scandalized even, as though Theo taking care of his own mess is a bad thing. "Why did—you didn't have to do that!"

Theo lifts a shoulder. "I made the mess," so it's fair he cleans it. 

Melissa blows out a rough exhale, snaps her fingers at him with one hand on her hip and points in the direction of the hallway. "You, downstairs. You need to eat. Now. Nuh-uh-uh, I don't wanna hear it. Go." she points at the hallway again, brows lifting and daring him to negate her. 

Theo slips past them to see Liam close to the top of the stairs, waiting. He perks up when he catches sight of Theo, eyes narrowing as he takes him in, straying to his clothed thigh when Theo nears him. He halts a step before Liam, staring down at him. Liam seems to understand he's back to being normal. He doesn't try any cheeky shit, or to jab a joke, just turns around to lead him to the kitchen area. 

They have to go through the living room first. Theo does his best to not pay attention to any other person there. He still takes in the tense atmosphere, the suspense and watchfulness, neither one of them certain they know the Theo currently walking among them. The fact that neither Malia nor Stiles make malicious commentary is telling enough, with how much justified hatred they harbor for him. Parrish is here. Theo must have been too zoned out to notice his arrival. Not ideal. 

Once in the kitchen Liam hands him a still hot box of a whole pizza that has somehow managed to survive the ravenous horde, ham and cheese, and leans his back on the counter. 

"You do know you're not my bodyguard." Theo murmurs, blows on his pizza slice and bites in, careful not to display his zealous hunger while he's being dissected. He'd hoped there would be some of Dora's infamous bagels with three types of cheese, eggs and ham left, but alas.

"You do know you're supposed to tell a professional when you have bullets in you, especially if one is full of wolfsbane and has shattered upon impact." Liam counters with a stony voice, bears no room for reason. 

Theo catches his eyes when he swallows, ticks up a brow. It seems to aggravate him more. Liam pauses all of a sudden, glancing up, then back at Theo in a fast sequence before he pulls a face.

"Fuck's sake, Theo." Liam groans and runs a hand through his bird's nest hair. "You cleaned? Instead of, I dunno, getting something to eat before you fainted outta this life?" 

So the loyal little beta is developing a rebellious streak and listening in on his alpha upstairs. That's gonna be fun to witness when it gets worse. Any gloat dies soon after, upon realizing it's because of Theo that this issue has arisen, him and his habit to stir shit up even when there’s no need to. The prominently twisted side of him still relishes at the thought that he also has an effect on Liam.

Theo's silence gives Mason time to enter the kitchen, gaping like a fish out of water with his index finger in the air, signalling a time out. "Wait just a second here. I promise I wasn't deliberately listening in, but there’s no door here, which is not the point." he takes a large gulp of air after the word-vomit. "I'm sorry, you cleaned that massacre scene? All of it?"

Theo nods slowly, staring and casually chewing his pizza. What's the big deal anyway? Like they’ve never had to do that when one of them gets wounded. It gets crusty if it’s left for too long. What a bunch of drama queens. He’d thought only Stiles had that keen note of extensive exaggeration.

"All of it. You're not joking." here, Mason desperately seeks out Liam and points at Theo, astounded and ready to flip his lid. "Dude, he's not joking."

"Mase." 

"I'm going, I'm going." 

And Mason does leave but everybody else heard what he said. Fuck this house for not having a kitchen door.

"Let me get this straight." Stiles starts from the living room, claps his palms together just as Liam opens his mouth. "He performs literal surgery on himself, so extensive that an actual puddle of blood formed around him, and practically half of the space there was dripping with said blood, and he cleaned it. All of it?” a pause. ”All of it. This is, uh. This is, yeah, uh—I don't even know what to say." the last part is muttered in a tone suggesting he's shaking his head, eyes focused on something in the distance.

"Stiles." the Sheriff grumbles, effectively shutting him up.

Liam tilts his head back fully, hands gripping the counter so hard his knuckles go white, a wave of intense exasperation mingled with irritation flowing out of him. Theo can’t help himself, peers up through heavy lids at the prominent carotid artery that’s bulged in Liam’s ire. He takes a large swallow from his iced water, unable to swivel his sight to another point in the kitchen. He rubs the knuckle of his thumb between his brows, forcing his eyes to close.

“You still in pain?” Liam whispers so lowly that a human wouldn’t even be able to hear it, in a semblance of privacy. 

Theo licks his upper teeth, then his lips and takes another swig of water. “Nah.” 

A way Theo had figured out to lie and get away with it, as long as he's not too stressed out and relatively coherent so that his thought process isn't jumbled up, is rephrasing the words in his head and answering that question instead of the original one. He's technically responding with truth. In this case he answered, Are you still in a lot of pain?

Liam must have waited for him to let go of the glass because the moment Theo sets it down there’s a hot palm on his forearm, leading him to jump in his chair and flare his eyes. Gold meets gold, difference being that Liam is doing it intentionally. An exceedingly anemic shade of black, closer to gray really, courses up Liam’s veins for a brief four seconds. 

He’d leaned forward, one hand braced on the table, leaving them way too close for comfort, like he wants to start a dispute. “Sorry if I’m not up to believing your word for it right now.” he tells Theo in the same quiet pitch.  

“I’ve had worse.” but Theo doesn’t jerk his arm back. He does know that look on Liam’s mug, though. “Start growling and I’ll pour the ice water, along with the ice cubes in it, down your fucking pants, Liam.” his saccharine smile spreads when Liam sputters, still gold on gold.

Malia enters the kitchen, drops her usual glare to where their arms are connected and away, fleeting with the action like it’s nothing abnormal. It’s electric blue against two sets of gold for a moment, a habit more than a deliberate statement unlike Liam's eyes. She stands still, statue-like during her inspection of Theo, from his socked feet to his face. She then proceed to steals a slice of his pizza and leaves with no word in-between.

Theo and Liam share a look and Theo dislodges his arm so he can eat his pizza before somebody else decides to steal more of it. Liam is oddly still and calm, taking out his phone to text somebody. He remains with his hip propped against the sturdy table, facing Theo with his whole body. 

The overly loose body language is up to par with the majority of their interactions lately. Theo writes it up to the situation, doesn’t look into it. He’s not going to let himself slip into expecting certain behavior just because he wants its connotation to be true. 

So he eats his food at an even pace, stares through the pizza box the entire remainder of his meal. He doesn't listen in on the conversations, be it on this floor or the ones above. Not because he's trying to be a better person, fuck no. He needs to figure out a safe space to park and sleep. 

The Preserve is a good option generally, when he doesn't need to be that close to the center of the town. In this case it's not advisable. Who knows where Monroe's lunatics are hiding. He can't risk it as of yet, maybe after a couple of days, to wait and see if there's attacks on her side. She won't, he knows, she's not an imbecile even on top of having severe psychopathic tendencies. She'll run and hide, lay low for a bare minimum of a week to recuperate and feed her army more of her exquisite poison in order to help bring back the foam around their mouths. Theo's just playing it safe, needs to get proper sleep to help his body heal and return to its full strength.

"Hey." Liam taps him on the shoulder. "You're with me."

Theo blinks once, twice. "What?" 

"Sleeping arrangements." he waves his phone, the buzzing group chat on display. Mason has already given suggestions with Scott backing them up. 

Scott's with Malia in his bedroom. Melissa and Argent in the master bedroom. Stiles, Derek and Lydia in the guest room that has a bed and the old pull-out couch (with Lydia having firmly stated the bed is hers: you can take the floor, or Derek might pull his back). Mason and Corey are in the basement on one of the spare air mattresses, after winning a battle with Liam who’d wanted to be there first. Joke's on them - if it's the same ancient air mattress Theo thinks it is—and it is, Melissa addressed it the same way she did back when Theo was still a human in body and soul—then they'll regret their choice very soon. Nolan is on the couch in the living room. Which leaves Liam and Theo on the new air mattress they have to decide where to situate.

Theo frowns, the equation having not caught up with him. Why is he in there? Liam seems to misinterpret his confusion and comically frowns back at him.

"What? You have a better idea? Unless you wanna share with Nolan it's your best bet." it's not exactly sharp or hostile, there's just something lurking in the edges of Liam's words. Theo isn't in the right headspace to find out what that is. 

Next best thing is to shove the information in a mental drawer for tomorrow's imminent analysis and surmise it's Liam's annoyance at having had to choose which metaphorical evil to share the bed with - Theo or Nolan. Well, in Theo's case, actual evil. It might be that they've had to collaborate quite often lately, meaning he could stand Theo, whereas Nolan had tried to get him killed until very recently.

Theo shrugs, shoves the last bites of pizza in his mouth and looks at his empty box. He's still hungry. This is also his biggest dinner in months, he won't bitch about it.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot." Liam zooms to the right, grabs a medium cardboard box among the pile of empty ones. "Here." 

Theo knows before he opens it, the delicious scent giving it away. It's the bagel special. 

"Uh, Dora said it's just for you and that if anybody touches it she'll know and make sure none of us ever get any of her food ever again? And I sure as hell want more of that heaven, so." 

Theo huffs a laugh, more breathy than loud. "She would say that." 

He opens the box, takes his divine bagel and bites in like he didn't just polish off an entire big pizza almost all by himself, sans the one slice Malia kidnapped. He's well aware his happiness is all too prominent, doesn't have it in him to cover it up.

"Huh." Liam whispers, in all likelihood intending to keep it internal. Whatever cogs are turning in his head, Theo is genuinely too preoccupied to check it out. 

Liam's pack starts filtering in and out of the bathrooms, to clean themselves and get ready for bed. Theo works with the Sheriff and Parrish to inflate the air mattresses, in surprisingly good coordination. The topic of Theo's gory painting session is not breached but both men regard him in a different way now than they did before, like Theo's a grey area they hadn't taken into account while going over logistics.

Theo decides on putting his and Liam's mattress between the kitchen and the living room, it'll leave space for venturing in and out of both areas if needed, without having to roll your ankle or landing face first on the floor in the process. Nolan will have to deal with silent tiptoeing if he needs to use the toilet, although it might not even be necessary with the whistling coming from all the bullet holes and the broken window when the wind picks up. 

Theo observes, from his place where he's leaned on the wall half separating the kitchen and living area, how Nolan watches the swooshing evidence of his involvement with Monroe. The one that nearly killed the woman permitting him to sleep safely in her home, the same home he indirectly helped be desecrated. Nolan keeps tugging anxiously at his sleeves, counting the holes again and again and again.  And again. If his twitchy behavior is anything to go by, and by how pale and hunched in he is, he's envisioning any and every way the people in the house at the time could have been murdered. 

It's only because they're alone on this floor of the house that Theo speaks Liam, Mason and Corey are in the basement, taking turns in the small bathroom there. They'd all refused to step foot in the one Theo had used, forgoing Scott's offer when they'd learned of the one downstairs. The others are in various rooms on the upper floor, the Sheriff and Parrish having left ten minutes ago with the deal to come back in the morning. 

"Counting them won't change that it happened."  

Nolan's head snaps in his direction, expression torn open with raw remorse. He averts his eyes soon after, "I know." 

And he does know. It's why Nolan's tormented by it. Nothing can undo the actions that led to this point. Only thing he can do is earn trust by proving he's not his past mistakes, that he's not going to let that happen again. The parallels between them keep digging at Theo, leaving a bitter coating on his tongue. Then again, Nolan didn't kill Scott or manipulate every single member of his pack, now, did he?

When Liam departs from Mason and Corey he almost comments on the mutually assigned stale silence between Theo and Nolan. He keeps it to himself as he walks over to the mattress and settles down. Nolan follows his lead and lies down on the couch, bundled up in the thick blanket with his back to them. 

Liam huffs, stares at Theo upside down from his place, waving a hand in a vague the fuck are you waiting for? manner when Theo doesn't take his place next to him. He's post shower soft, the clothes obviously his as they fit him perfectly, meaning he has spares here. As do most of his pack. 

Once he's repeated it to himself a few times, in need of a psychological line between him and all of them, he takes the left side of the mattress. They stay on their backs for all of a minute before Liam turns on his side, facing the other way. Nolan is already asleep, no supernatural organism to stall his exhaustion from knocking him out. 

Theo keeps his heart and scent balanced, not keen on alerting Liam to what he plans on doing. The car keys in his pocket hadn't jiggled loud enough to betray him and Liam isn't as skilled at keeping all his senses on the ready at all times, at will. The keys sear a hole into his thigh whilst he mentally ticks off everybody under the roof. 

He can be patient. Liam is halfway asleep, the malodour of worry, rage and violence prevalent to him is the best pointer. The more indiscernible it gets, the closer he is to dreaming. He'd found that out after the zoo. 

Shortly after it's only Mason, Argent and Derek he has to wait out, then an additional half an hour to cement every person's sleep state and make his escape. He doesn't count on Liam stirring when Theo gets to his elbows, landing on his back but thankfully still asleep. When Theo sits up, a painstakingly slow progress, Liam's head shuffles on his pillow to face him. 

He wasn't aware of how deep the anchor went. At this rate, by the time Theo is on his feet and at the door Liam would wake up with how attuned he is to him. 

As is, Theo is resolute in one thing - he can't sleep here. It's fifty-fifty whether he'll have a nightmare and it's not up for debate whether he wants to risk it. He needs just one instance to get a taste of what it feels like to tumble into la-la-land in a home that smells like pack. Not his pack, logic says. But has the wolf ever listened to that? Not really. It just keeps on criss-crossing on quick paws between the lines of they're a danger and this feels like home because the heart wants what it wants and all that. 

He doesn't really have the right to want anything of that caliber. Especially with how unattainable it is. He belongs nowhere. He can't give in. If he does, recovering from it, the false sense of hope and diving into a pool labeled as 'belonging', will crumble him entirely. Resilience is his second nature when he can detach himself, not when it's both human and animal lamenting lost chances. Only one can get that luxury, and it isn't Theo. After all the pain he's put the animal through, he can give them that.

Theo does manage to slip out of the house on nimble feet, following Liam's sleep cycle on the way in case he needs to pause. He'd never planned on leaving, it wasn't in the cards. His freedom rests on his future actions and gunning it would demolish it completely. 

He gets in his truck to strip out of the clothes that hold Scott's scent and shifts into his wolf form. A leap down and he noses the door until it's almost closed, slightly ajar. A slam will wake them all up and it's not like nobody can steal his truck; he'll be awake before they even near it.

After a quick stretch he crawls under the car and curls up in a ball to fend off the cold, snout under his tail. Finally, he can rest.

Notes:

*SPOILER, for the scenes with suicidal ideation, violence and gore - Theo removes bullets deeply lodged into his body by himself, in the form of self-surgery. It's a long scene that also alludes to the torture he's endured under the Dread Doctors' hands. Lots of descriptions of the wounds, along with the bloody state of the surrounding space. The scene is heavy on him to the point where he considers giving up and letting the wound take its toll on him.

Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated!

And here's the link for the moodboard if anybody wants to reblog or just to scream about Thiam with me.

Chapter 2: In your eyes, there's a heavy blue

Notes:

I have to say that I'm blown away by the way this was received and I am so grateful for each comment and kudos! You guys are the reason I kept on writing despite having some trouble with this chapter ;_;

Did I also make moodboards to procrastinate? Yes (you're not hallucinating if you've read the first chapter before this one was up and suddenly - BAM, moodboard in the beginning of it).

WARNING: more explicit depictions of gore and wounds, along with mentions of mental deterioration, self-harm and circumstantial suicide! Please stay safe!

Chapter title from the song "Selena Gomez - Wolves", highly recommend the slowed up version.

Anyway, here's the new chapter and I hope you enjoy!

---

*March 2025 edit stamp

Theo wakes up to the sound of Liam's echoing whispers of his name. 

At first he chalks it up to a trick of his mind until he hears it again, this time hissed out. Queasy, and tense.

His senses automatically extend, catching the rabbit-fast pulse less than two feet from him. It's only thanks to his upbringing that he stops himself from reacting. Upon opening his eyes he's met with blazing gold. Liam is on his hands and knees by the truck, watching him with his mouth pinched. 

"The fuck, dude? We thought you—" Liam cuts off with a deep breath, biting into his lower lip harshly as a rough hand drags over the top of his head to faintly grip his own hair, before he lets go. 

It goes unsaid, whatever his finished thought was. Could have been anything along the lines of: we thought you left, we thought you were caught, we thought you’re an ass trying to play tricks, we thought you up and died. Guess Theo will never know.

Nolan is by the opened front door, along with Melissa, Argent, Scott and Malia. Their constipated faces are mildly entertaining, all their hearts beating at a higher than normal pace. What, they thought he'd left without his truck? Or that he got abducted while in a house full of werewolves? The astonishing lack of logic on them sometimes is teeth-gritting levels of aggravating.

Theo blinks at Liam, tail still covering his muzzle, still tired with his restless nightmare-fueled sleep, still nowhere near mentally stable to shift back. He closes his eyes, coils tighter against the chill.

"Theo?" if it wasn't for Liam's souring scent he'd have studiously ignored him. He's rumbling before Liam can make contact with his fur, shifting only so he's further under the car and out of Liam's direct reach unless he lies down on the dirty pavement.

A sudden commotion in the morning quiet alerts him to what's to come. Various hiss-whispered exclamations of Malia's name and soon after there's another canine smell other than his own hitting his senses, too close to his little territory that is his truck, his only home. He growls, not even sparing her a glance or unfastening from his tight circle.

He just wants to sleep. 

"Theo? Hey, c'mon, what's going on?" Liam's anxiety is so tangible that Scott abandons his position at the door to check things out himself. 

Scott crouches next to him, Malia follows and throws herself forward with a huff, so close to the ground she’s almost flat on her belly. 

"He's… not emitting anything."

"Exactly! It's just his scent, nothing else. No emotions, no nothing. Not even when I tried to touch him. I mean he had a reaction, just not one I could smell." 

Scott keeps silent for half a minute. Theo hears one of his hands landing on Liam's shoulder, the soft and sheer sound of human skin on fabric.

"Theo." it's not quite as effortless staying unresponsive when Scott uses his alpha voice. Red meets gold when Theo slants his eyes open. "Is something wrong?" Scott is careful with the wording, as well as the inflection. 

Theo chuffs faintly, muted by his tail covering half his face. The red dissolves out of Scott's irises. Theo's pale gold ones, their shift not even fully out, fading away shorty after. 

"D'you wanna come back inside?" Theo gives a short grumble; not a threat, just a negation to the question. 

Malia crawls halfway under the truck, keenly observing him with her head bent to the left, careening to the right when that angle doesn’t seem to suit her. Theo can barely focus his eyes to pay attention. God, it's still dark outside. It's not even dawn yet. Four hours? Maybe five since he curled up. 

Not enough.

"I think he just wants to sleep." Scott concludes with an underlying meaning. Did Liam wake them up for the Theo sweep? Figures. "Like we do." he adds, definitely aimed at Liam who stews in his soup of embarrassment, mutinous but willing to accept that it might not have been a bright idea at all. "Theo, anytime you want to come back in - door's open."

Theo huffs in reply. They better leave him alone. 

"Liam, come on." a pause. "Tomorrow, okay? Or, well, today. In a few hours. He needs to rest and if that's how he prefers it - that's okay. It's his choice."

Malia is the last to leave, ominously quiet for the entire ordeal. Not her style in the slightest. Under normal circumstances she would have, at the very least, lashed out for being awoken at this time of the morning, or invaded Theo's space and provoked him until he'd acknowledged her. 

When the front door to the McCall house closes he's already halfway asleep again. 

*

The next time he comes to it’s molasses slow, an almost pleasurable slide into reality. He’s tempted to stretch his limbs and back, opts not to with how little space there is between the ground and the underside of the truck with how the upper part of his fur brushes the latter. His right leg is entirely healed now, no niggling sensation of internal damage prickling at his nerves. Yesterday was such a long day he feels like he hasn’t had this type of restful serenity in a decade, the fact that he’s still tired and in need of more sleep notwithstanding.

That first part might be more true than he’d care to admit.

The soft thump in the grass in front of him whisks the illusion away. Liam is lying on a picnic blanket and propped on his elbows, legs crossed at the ankles as he scrolls through his phone with one hand. It must have been his mug held in his opposite palm coming in contact with the ground that produced the sound. He doesn’t move apart from shooting his blue eyes in Theo’s direction, face unreadable. Judging by his scent he’s mulling thought after thought, curious and cautious of whatever revelations are going on in the middle of his turbulent mind. Or he's wondering if he is now, unlike last night, allowed to throw a punch in Theo's direction.

Inside mostly everybody is awake, with the exception of Stiles and Malia. The breeze wafts the aroma of eggs, bacon, sausages and buttered toast in his face, tempting him enough to crawl approximately two thirds out from under the truck and scent the air in depth. 

“You’re not off the hook, just so you know.” Liam informs him, stubborn and firm in his statement. One lungful confirms there’s a lingering layer of anxiety on him, clinging to his clothes. “C’mon.”

Liam gets up, takes his mug along with him. Then he whirls the truck’s door fully open, curls into the backseat and snatches Theo’s clothes before Theo puts two and two together. He bites at Liam’s ankle, swats his shin with a big paw in hopes that Liam loses balance and drops the items in his arms. The little fucker just hugs them closer to his chest.

“I don’t fucking trust you!” he hollers, translating to: I don’t trust you to not put your clothes on and scram within the same breath.

Liam runs the rest of the way to the house, just barely avoiding smashing his face in the grass three times in a row after he bolts like it’s an Apocalypse now type of calamity. Had it not involved Theo it would be the perfect comical situation to start the day, watching him nearly break his neck on even ground as his sneakers skid on the dew-covered grass whilst trying to keep the contents of his mug in said mug.

Theo trots behind him at a slow pace, stretching beforehand upon crawling the rest of the way out. Argent will shoot him on sight if he barges in at high speed. He bumps the front door of the McCall house closed with his nose after himself. Everybody is in one shape or another eating breakfast in the living room, either on the couch or the floor, amused by the theatrics. Even Nolan appears to be faring a hair better in the morning light. Theo follows Liam unenthusiastically at a snail’s pace into the kitchen area, avoiding the mattress he didn't sleep on. Would have been a comfortable hour before he got into a nightmare. Sleeping alone helped more, he's not sorry for fleeing temporarily.

He bites at Liam’s ankle again when they're out of sight, the intention not being to harm or for him to draw blood, just admonishment that will ensure Liam won’t think he can get away with shit.

Liam squawks, “Fine, fine, Jesus. Here.” he leaves Theo’s clothes on the closest counter, turns his back on him with one arm crossed over his chest, the other occupied with whatever hasn’t spilled out of his mug.    

Audacious asshole.

Theo gets back up on his human legs and stretches again, basking in the pull of his healed muscles, takes his sweet time just to be a dick. Until he zeroes in on Liam’s red nape. The sight forces him ward off the ensuing need to cover the few steps between them, lean in and nip it, place a fleeting mark. The healing would get rid of it a second. He freezes, shuddering from the swelling craving, and puts his clothes on. He’s way too in sync with the wolf. Generally, such Neanderthal thoughts are kept under wraps fairly easily with an annoyed eye roll. Giving the wolf a carte blanche for just twelve hours has burned half of that bridge, inducing a further animalistic perception of his surroundings. 

Fuck.

He needs to create more space, preferably now. Before his carnal appetite takes him in a chokehold stronger than the one it already has him in. 

Theo shakes his head, goes to fill a glass of water. He hasn't had a sip since last night, it'll also give him something to do. Liam goes to the oven to tug out a bowl covered with tinfoil, keeping the contents warm.

"There weren't any more plates." he offers as he sets it on the table, pressing it with the tips of his index and middle fingers in Theo's direction. Like it's something monumental, or like Theo will care what shape of porcelain the food is going to be on.

"I like bowls better either way." Theo glances at the wall separating them from the living room, then at the table.

He choses this: every supernatural ear, rather than every pair of eyes. It's easier to pretend when he can't see their eyes. Taking his glass of water with him, he sits at the table and pulls the tinfoil off. It's a mix of everything he'd caught in the air earlier - eggs, bacon and sausages. Liam hands over a plate of toast, slathered with a thick layer of butter. Theo's mouth waters.

He eats while Liam makes another batch of coffee. He's half tempted to give instructions so he can at lest enjoy his coffee a tiny increment, but he's still so groggy he can't force himself into giving too much of a damn. He’s down for even a strong shot of heart-attack inducing mud so long as it shocks his body into wakefulness. At this point it’s psychosomatic, fast metabolism and all that jazz. He refuses to concede to it.

Liam takes a gulp of his fresh coffee while he sets Theo’s respective cup on the table, blanches and chokes with his shoulders jumping up to his ears. Theo snorts, swallows his own highly vile concoction in three consecutive swigs, just barely managing to not pull a face.

“I think I’m gonna puke.” Liam whimpers, words muffled with a palm firmly covering his mouth. This one is not him being melodramatic, then.

Later Theo will deem the scene an anomaly, a malfunction pardoned due to his still jaded and drained state. He extends a hand without waiting for Liam to respond as he draws the totter-inducing queasiness from him, lines going up his arm in a cobalt grey. Liam has entered his meerkat impression with his back straightening, eyes fixating in rapt focus on Theo with a noticeable shiver spreading over him. For Theo it’s barely anything. He can munch through the short time it’s needed for him to take all the sickness from Liam. The only way it does influence him is with the relief that Gabe wasn’t a fluke, and at the same time with dread of what that ability signifies. He unhands Liam the precise moment he’s done with the questionable need to aid him.

“I thought… ” 

Theo lifts a shoulder. “You can take away pretty much anything.”

“Even emotions?” Liam sits down next to him, back to the entrance of the kitchen.

“That’s tricky. It has a negative effect the more prolonged the action is in time, fucks with your perception. It’s generally inadvisable to put it in use often and consequently rarely practiced.”

Liam stares at the same arm that until recently had Theo's palm on it, wiggles his fingers, clenches and loosens them a few times to test them out.

"He's right." Derek chimes in from the living room, in a highly exasperated and discouraging tone. Then he adds, "Don't even think about it." 

The exasperation can be aimed at anybody in the near vicinity, though Theo has a suspicion the main targets are Scott and Liam. Possibly Stiles, too.

Liam seems skeptical, slants Theo a look. Theo kicks him under the table.

"You've no idea how many werewolves have gone insane while doing that shit. It's dangerous for a reason. Not to mention the lethal chemical imbalances in the brain it leads to. I'm talking healthy, happy individuals developing manic depression in the span of a week type of imbalances." he doesn't mean for it come out so jagged, but with Liam's constant inclinations to lend a helping hand it could lead to a fatal outcome. The IED is enough of a problem for Liam to manage, the literal last thing he needs is the fear of being unable to distinguish what his own bullshit is and what isn't.

Scott sits up from the floor by the sound of it, takes the five steps to the kitchen to lean against the wall separating the two rooms, just so he's visible to Theo and Liam.

"But how?" 

Theo takes a pointed bite from his sausage, speaks when it's evident Scott won't turn away. 

"I am the failed science experiment, Derek on the other hand is the born wolf. He probably knows more than I do on this topic." it's a clear dismissal as any, not one either Scott or Liam take. 

There's a loud silence stretching and pulling but he's not gonna abandon his food for it. Who knows when he'll be able to have a homemade meal again. His priorities are fixed in a way where they form a slightly different different pyramid in comparison to theirs. 

He also can not say he's seen it—how it looks when a werewolf loses their identity after one too many times of playing nurse—with his own eyes.

They'd start questioning him on the spot. He was thirteen when he had to infiltrate the Amadio pack in Stockton. An alleged beta wolf was very allegedly able to see the dead, an alleged ability she kept after she'd gotten the bite. Theo could never prove it, so the Doctors moved on. They kept tabs on Monica Patton ever since. What they did witness was a deteriorating newly bitten kid, Ryan Mills, who'd been entirely unaware of the damaging side effects of emotions-drawing. He'd done it to help his heavily schizophrenic mother, who, after multiple such sessions, improved to such a degree that her psychiatrist lowered the high dose of her medication. For a price. Even her son's supernatural body couldn't handle the mental changes, became withdrawn until he reached a catatonic state he didn't get out of until his final day. When he did wake up for the last time, he suffered a major episode and slashed his own throat shortly after.

His pack wasn't even aware of it, unable to determine whether the shifty behaviour was due to him being a 'newborn' having yet to experience his first full moon, or not. He was just good at hiding everything bothering him. Too good at it, in the end.

The Doctors took Ryan while he was in the middle stages of his condition, just out of twisted and convoluted fascination. The conclusion was a break of his mind - healthy up until he started helping his mother, at the expense of his own life. And sanity. He'd drawn his mother's emotions for so long and so extensively that his brain could no longer filter what his own state was, and what was hers. Theo had lurked in the shadows of the operating theater that day,  had only looked at the paranoia-filled boy who was startlingly accomodating to his captors. The Doctors didn't even do anything invasive to Ryan, only strapped him down to conduct the most benign, for them, close-up examination on him. Ryan's last days of coherence were spent in mania and mental breakdowns, with little control over his shift concluding into self-harming tendencies. All in the span of a meager month and without either Theo's, or the Doctors' hands steering him.

The Amadio pack were too late with their realization. They couldn't warn him of the severe consequences, couldn't even attempt to save him. Too late, it'd just been too late.

Ryan had woken out of his comatose state on his very first full moon, ironically, and fled the hospital. That was his last day. Plagued by severe hallucinations he'd ripped his own carotid arteries multiple times, succeeded in mangling himself until he'd bled out a tremendous amount. His body couldn't replenish the lost blood. 

Lucia Amadio forbade such practices in her pack after that incident, even dire situations were rarely an exception. Several packs across various states implemented it in use until it became an unwritten rule.

"You've seen it." Liam whispers with his blue eyes intense, almost crystal-like. He wants to know everything, is the energy Theo gets from him.

Theo sighs and swallows his buttered toast. When Derek appears next to Scott their gazes meet.

"The newly bitten kid of the Amadio pack, a few years ago." he states, and Theo nods. 

"There was a rumor the first beta could see the dead, an ability she supposedly retained from her human life. The Doctors stayed longer to see what would happen to Ryan instead."

"Which was?" Liam crosses his arms, gaze still intent on Theo. Liam can't decide if Theo is a part of the problematic side of the story or not, and whatever he views Theo as is too important for him to be evil anymore. He's grilling Theo like Theo can undo actions from years ago at the snap of Liam's fingers.

"Ryan kept taking his schizophrenic mother's emotions every day. Her fear and terror to be precise, up to multiple times a day, thinking his status as a werewolf would neuter any bad side effects. And died a month in. Went mad, in the literal sense. He was too sure of himself. He didn't bring it up with his alpha, Lucia Amadio. Neither she, nor any of her pack found out until he was nearing a neurosis. Then he killed himself." Theo stabs his eggs, shoves a too large mouthful between his lips and chews. 

He omits how the mother died of a heart attack that same night, upon learning that her only child, her last remaining family, was dead. Derek's shoulders tense, grim with that same knowledge. Despite not having fought together and having formally met just last night, and despite Derek being rightfully weary of him, they reach a silent consensus to not mention that part. 

"Were you—" Liam stops himself by taking in a sharp breath. An uneasy air forms around him. "Did you—"

"Have anything to go with it? No, surprisingly, I didn't have to. The kid was so off the wagon he didn't even notice me trail him left and right. When I figured it out he'd already been doing it for two weeks. The Doctors took interest. They only probed, never did a single intervention, had a vague idea of how his state would progress but kept their distance while they—" Theo swallows, scowls at his empty mug with residue drops of coffee. "While we watched it finish him."

Hey, he knows his sins. All of them. Pretending he wasn't a bystander would do him no good. And they'd all, Scott's pack, become more lenient. Theo isn't a fan. He'd rather be on the receiving end of their cold shoulders, maintain the neat line between him and them. Theo doesn't belong in the we of the pack and would rather be reminded of his status than forge an illusion. 

The wolf, with its violent mood swings, would beg to have a place there despite the parading certainty that Theo is safer without them.  As of right now, though, it's in time out. Until Theo can get his uga-buga instincts under fucking control.

He suspects this is the persistence of his punishment. He'd earned it, after all, it's the fruit of his own wrongdoings. His mind trots back to Tara, Tracy and Josh's photos, along with that family photo under theirs, safe in his truck.

"Could you have done something about it? When you found out." Scott's voice breaks him out of his musing.

Ah, this is an assessment thing. Only it's veiled with Scott's usual trademarked puppy dog face. Filled with the childish naivety that actually doesn't want the answer to the question, but knows he has to ask it. 

Theo and Derek answer at the same time: "No." 

They all look at Derek - Theo taken aback, the rest for an elaboration. He explains, "When it's that advanced of a mental deterioration it's too late to do anything. Unless the individual is extremely balanced it's rarely reversible."

Theo spits out the rest of the beans, might as well get it out of the way.

"That, and the fact that even lycanthropy can't fix a scrambled brain. Not entirely. When it's the consciousness the problem and not a nervous system malfunction, well. He essentially took his mother's terror of the hallucinations and made it his own, subsequently developing a heavy form of paranoia. His pack thought he was just an anxious pup; too concerned of the hunters or of his own power. And by the time I figured it out, the 'no return' point had been crossed." 

There's now an overbearing aura of apprehension. Knowing how much you don't know can be terrifying. 

Theo has his last few bites of the buttered toast, eyes focused on the middle of the table. It’s only now that he notices it - Malia and Stiles had woken up sometime in the middle of the conversation, have been in the living room for some time now. 

"Can you teach us?" 

It's Scott who asks the question, causing a collective jump in multiple people's heartbeats.

"Things like that." he adds to clarify, "Things we don't know, but should know. Can you teach us?"

Theo blatantly catches Scott's eye, shifts his gaze to Derek right next to his shoulder in a pointed emphasis and a raised brow - you have him, the born wolf, so why me?

Derek shakes his head, reading between the lines. "You've seen a lot of supernatural phenomena first-hand, while I've only heard about most of it in passing. There's a difference."

Liam hasn't lost the rigid back since Theo went down memory lane with Ryan's case. He's barely looked away from Theo the entire time, still close enough for Theo to feel his furnace warmth. He almost wants to reach out and—

Theo leans back in his chair and heaves a resigned sigh to sever the thought as he drags a rough hand over his own face. Then he looks at Scott, whose eyes have gone a little wary in the lapse of silence and Theo's lack of answer. It's not like he has a choice. 

"Okay." Theo tells him.

Liam's knee presses against Theo's under the table, holds for a few seconds before retreating, there and gone again.

*

They set up a movie in the early afternoon, much to Theo’s bafflement. Monroe is out on the loose with them having not even a single whiff of her whereabouts and they’re going to watch a fucking movie. Theo glances at the adults sat around the kitchen table. They’re conversing among themselves in hushed tones, all leaning forward unconsciously with a cup of strong coffee between every pair of hands.

Theo sits on the floor, trying to keep a distance before Liam yanks him next to himself, Mason and Corey—who still observe like a closer inspection of Theo’s face and body language will give them the hidden secrets of the goddamn universe—and now he’s stuck. He has to tolerate sudden smacks to the arm and shoulder when quite literally anything happens on the screen.

The touching is fucking with him big time. Not certain how to proceed he just doesn’t react to it. Which just serves to make the multiple examining eyes triple their efforts. The neon pink elephant in the room stays unmentioned - yesterday’s catastrophe, which they’re all burning to ask questions about. Theo won’t lie and say he’s not having a little fun as he continues to studiously disregard the dumpster fire while they itch to get closer to it.

He zones out not even fifteen minutes into the action movie, eyes locked onto one corner of the room while he thinks over how he should proceed. Liam said Theo can't leave until Monroe is caught, the Sheriff backed that sentiment and it's more plausible for Argent to wear a sparkly, cyclamen tutu next time he has to shoot somebody before he lets Theo out of his sight. He has only one road thus far and that includes formulating a strategy. Or a hundred. 

Monroe will have fled California by now, away from Scott and Co, as well as one of the largest packs in the west - the Amadio pack. Funny how it'd pinged on his radar twice in the span of an hour when he forcibly shuns any connotation with the Doctors from his consciousness. Maybe it's a sign that he has to delve into it. His mind, despite being a fickle bitch, doesn’t bring up shit just because. There's something working in the background, Theo just can't put a finger on it yet. 

Lucia wasn't exactly welcoming to him, wasn't hostile either. She had a healthy dose of weariness aimed his way, more out of general caution towards newcomers than any other factor. In the end, he hadn’t even harmed her pack in any way, it was one of the rare instances of wrong time, wrong place. They’d left soon after Ryan’s death, which is more incriminating than he’d like. There’s few ways he can prove he wasn’t responsible for the calamity. Theo still has some vague belief that she’s as level-headed as she’d appeared the first time around and will be able to react without letting any emotional compromisation seep into her final judgement. If they have to ally themselves with her, to capture Monroe, the outcome depends on it.

A sudden change of light on the TV screen grabs his attention by force, a flash dull blue and green with neon variations of both colors. If Theo hadn’t mastered the art of covering his scent at all times, no matter where or who he's with, he would have alerted every person with a supernatural nose or sixth sense of the creeping shadows in his mind. It juggles multiple memories stacked one over the other like overlapping film rolls, emptying the depths of his recollections in the hopes that whatever is causing the prickling feeling in the back of his neck will show itself.

An icy shudder down his spinal cord. 

Then: flashes of multiple operating theaters all over the country, each as cold and dead as the previous one. Decay, corpses, screams, begging, acceptance, terror, gleaming red, sticky black, pearly and poisonous silver—

It clicks.

Theo has to apply more effort into maintain his apathy and hold his pulse and chemo signals steady than he'd like to admit. He peeks at Scott, who conveniently has his phone in one hand while he argues with Stiles about how plausible the quick death on screen is. Theo takes out his own phone, dims the screen to a level Liam will have difficulty peeking through unless he wants to make it blatantly obvious he’s snooping, quickly types out the texts.

To: Scott

< Don’t react

< We need to talk, just the both of us and Argent

He only has to wait until Scott gets into the good-natured quarrel and turn his phone on to fact check. To his credit, Scott shows no outward response to seeing Theo’s text. The reason Theo knows he’s caught sight of it to begin with is because of how Scott’s brows try to pull together for a fraction of a second, smoothing out when he types in his response lightning quick.

From: Scott

> ???

> ok we’re going to the store for popcorn then 

He’s quick with locating his answer to secure his victory and bellows it out in a hoot. Stiles slaps his hands over his own face. Theo grimaces at the forlorn scream of “Noooooo!” that could rival Lydia’s own.

He makes to get to his feet, is intercepted within a breath by Liam’s sweltering palm fastening itself just above his elbow. The fact that his reaction is so seamless, so instantaneous, means he’s been tracking Theo’s body movements at the very least. Blue eyes, having taken on an almost luminous hue with the paused TV reflecting in them, fixate on him, unyielding in their evaluation.

Theo blinks in an unperturbed manner, if with his lips pursed. “Do I need you to sign my permission slip to go on the field trip to the bathroom?” 

Their exchange mostly goes unnoticed when Scott and Stiles are now on the floor in a playful tangle of limbs, emitting battle cries and reenacting a war for Sparta’s honor. 

Liam doesn’t take the bait, already too used to Theo’s method of shifting topics with a well-aimed sarcastic nudge to take away the importance of the event unfolding. His eyes twitch, and he scarcely avoids squinting them when he lets go of Theo. Nonetheless, Theo feels them on his back on the trek to the stairs and bathroom. 

He leaves it to Scott to make a diversion. Anything coming from Theo will raise brows, there’s no going around it. And they don’t really trust him, so. If they hadn’t stated they want to keep a close eye on him, under the guise of him helping catch Monroe, he’d be more than a little bewildered at being let into Scott’s home and permitted to spend time with his pack. Outsiders generally aren’t welcome - they create a grating disharmony everybody can feel and is forced to ignore. The consolation is that at least it’s not just him who’s uncomfortable.

The wolf and the suddenly opinionated coyote have no fucking say in this. His human side, the logical and relevant side, is uncomfortable and that’s that. No lamentable whining or snarled frustration is going to alter his opinion. Theo is an interloper. Always has been, always will be.

Sometimes you gotta stick it even to your own instincts.

“Theo!” Scott calls out his name when he’s halfway down the stairs on his way back. They’re all looking at him. “We’re going for popcorn.” he says with a grin.

So they’re playing the full on theatrics, huh? Theo sighs, falls into his role as a tortured soul who has no say in it. “Liam has my keys hostage.”

Liam blows a raspberry, dangles the truck keys in the air with an obnoxious clicking sound from the metal on metal, then throws them above his head and catches them with one last taunting wiggle Theo’s way. He pockets them, just as pompous in what he thinks is leverage over Theo.

“I’ll see if Chris is willing to help out.” Scott aims for the kitchen, not seeing how all the glee tumbles off of Liam’s face upon the mention of Argent’s name in the blink of an eye. Mason and Corey catch onto his mood fast, with the trio being in each other’s pockets and all that, and get ready to pull down a puffed up Liam who’s close to going from zero to sixty. 

In the end, Liam has no say in it. If anybody else has a sneaking suspicion of how weird the combo of Theo, Scott and Argent is, they don’t comment on it. Even Malia, although her gaze is just as heavy as Liam’s on them when they leave.

“Scotty, my boy, get me some nachos, will ya? And you,” Stiles waves in Theo’s general direction. “I won’t say no to you never coming back. Like, ever. Here, or anywhere in California for that matter. You know what, Canada is nice this time of the year, why don’t you—GAH! ” Liam knocks him down with a pillow thrown full force in his face.

Theo gets the text dump when inside Argent’s car.

From: Liam

> u fucking planned this!!

> istg you're such an asshole

> i still have your keys

> don't forget that

> [angry emoji] [fist emoji]

Theo sends him a single middle finger emoji, debates on whether he should also send a blue heart (spiteful and mocking, nothing amicable or kind to it, more so a reminder of what Theo's true colours are) and a passive-aggressive smiley face to add more insult to the injury. Why the fuck would he do that in the first place, is what stops him. He's not some sniveling rom-com character. He doesn’t send anything else, blames the coyote for the impulsivity.

He’s riding shotgun in the front with Argent, Scott in the back, courtesy of Argent’s arrangement. That way they don’t have to give Theo their backs and have him where they can keep him boxed in. It’s hilarious to an extent. Not unwarranted, though.

“I have to fully deactivate the rest of the operating theaters.” he says when they’re six blocks away from the McCall house. Argent’s hands twitch violently, forcing him to pull the steering wheel to the left and make the car pivot from it’s straight line for a second.

“Oh. You had a memory triggered?” Scott leans forward, hands braced on the sides of both Argent and Theo’s seats. Theo whips his head to face him. Scott gives an apologetic, albeit strained smile. “I think only Liam noticed you stiffen up a bit, too.”

“Remembering about the Amadio pack helped.” Theo mutters, turns to the front. “I’m only certain of eight theaters. Don’t know if they didn’t leave something else in here,” he taps a temple. “But I guess I’ll find out.”

Scott opens his mouth, closes it, before he settles on, “What do you mean ‘leave something else’?”

“They altered your memories. Right?” Argent is concentrated on the road but is thickly immersed into the conversation. “As a sure-fire.”

“Pretty much.” 

“I don’t trust you.” Argent lifts his right hand up from the wheel, to silence Scott. “But if I know I have a way to keep an eye on you, I’ll be willing to look into it.”

Theo snorts, looks out the window, swallowing down the urge to bare his teeth in a threat. He never expected less from Argent, is nowhere near stupefied over the fact that he wants to leash Theo in a form of metaphorical domestication, to chain him in the front yard with a cord long enough for him to sniff out the border separating his luxurious prison and his freedom.

“No.” Scott says, firmly. He locks eyes briefly with Argent in the rear-view mirror. 

“I’m not agreeing to this otherwise. You forget all the people he’s murdered, Scott. We can’t just let him leave. If he goes on a spree again - it’s on us.”

Scott chooses his words wisely. “Why exactly do you think I called him to help Liam?”

Argent’s mouth snaps shut, jaw clenching tight with his scent giving a peppery tint to the air. Theo’s nose itches the more pronounced it gets. “We have no guarantee he’ll actually come back and I trust him even less with another person going along with him. You’ll, what? Let him go on his merry way, believing he’ll keep in contact and hand over trustworthy information instead of pledging an alliance with Monroe? Don’t be naive, Scott.”

Theo laughs, a shrill bell in the car, before the confrontation can go on further. 

“If you think that psycho bitch, more psycho than I ever was might I add, will ally herself with anything supernatural, especially something of my origin, you’re outta your mind, Argent.” he leans an elbow at the window, chin propped on his hand as he chuckles without any mirth, frost cold. “People like her are so afraid they’ll obliterate anything making them experience that kind of fright and helplessness. Why do you think she was so susceptible to your father, huh? Anuk-Ite or no, she’ll willingly carve her singed little heart out before she takes me as her accomplice.”

His words ring, too much of a reality slap perhaps. Recalling that the human—more monster than the monsters—who almost destroyed the entire supernatural population of Beacon Hills, who sweet talked anybody with even a drop of fear in their blood to act in her stead, who killed so many, is still fucking free burns more than Theo’s presence must have, after Liam pulled him out of the skinwalker prison. 

“Then he can wait with the deactivation for when we’ve captured Monroe.” 

Only Theo isn't willing to let this go, “How much did your dear father actually know?”

Argent breathes out steadily, pepper amplifying to further burn Theo's sinuses. 

“The Doctors were always careful with their steps, but nobody is perfect. Did Gerard know anybody who could have an idea of even a single theater? Or even obscure coordinates of one? Because let me tell you one thing - the reason I know which type of wolfsbane I’m immune and susceptible to, or certain I’ll die from, is because they had every strain known to man. They kept most of them in multiple operating theaters, just in case they needed a quick escape and a well stocked reserve. And what the fuck do you think happens if she finds out?  No resources have to be wasted for her to get her poison, just the weapons she needs to shoot it with. And she'll possess the perfect labs needed to mix it and experiment, away from the population and secure from anything with a supernatural nose."

Dread fills the air. Scott is frozen in place, goosebumps having emerged on the visible part of his skin. A pungent smell overthrows the pepper.

"Also, riddle me this: what are you gonna do if she starts mixing random wolfsbane strains and decides to go whack-a-werewolf with them? What if she starts combining them to make her own? Here's a hint: she used Aconitum lamarckii, one of the most pain-inducing and nerve-wrecking types, on kids.”

Years of harshly ingrained self-control are the only thing standing between Theo and yelling. But oh, he knows just how more impactful a composed verbal strike can be, how hurtful and effective it always is in comparison to a heated outburst.

The search for popcorn in the local store is a silent experience between Theo and Argent, with Scott trying to awkwardly start conversations. Argent takes a bottle of Beefeater gin and a Grant’s whiskey.

He doesn’t even look Theo’s way when he tells him, “You’ll destroy them one by one, in correspondence to her whereabouts. If she goes south, you take care of any theater there. And if you dare betray our trust, you better pray I won’t find you, Theo.” his voice is a low rumble that surely would have mingled with a subvocal growl had he been a wolf.

Theo slaps a packet of M&Ms insolently over Argent’s bottles of alcohol, holding his grey, stormy eyes with his chin tipped up. ”And a pack of Marlboro black.” then he looks out the automatic doors.

He's not a big fan of smoking as a whole. On the days where it gets too much he just needs to drown out every single scent and focalize himself. So far nothing else, legal that is, has proven itself to be a better candidate for the job. While the illegal shit was not something he'd consented to ingesting.

Scott remains fidgety next to them. He deposits the multiple packs of popcorn and other snacks onto the belt, arranging them neatly. The ride back must hurt him even more. He manages to start a flimsy conversation with Argent regarding dinner while Theo mentally connects all the theaters he’s aware of currently, index finger stroking along the sharp edges of the cellophane-covered cigarette box. He fills in the gaps with speculations, scanning the drawer in his head he operates as a storage of landscapes structured in little maps, garnished with a diversity of exits he can take. Places he can hide in, coupled with voices, resounds of engines and walking patterns he should avoid at all cost. He’s figured out which routes to take for five of the eight theaters by the time they’re back.

But Argent doesn’t stop the car, nor does he get out. “Scott, take the keys from Liam. I’m going to have a little chat with Theo while we make a circle around the neighborhood in the meantime.”

Scott is terribly reluctant. He takes his sweet time to tug the groceries with him on his way out, looking between Theo and Argent the entire time. It's a matter of luck that he doesn't break the gin bottle when he accidentally slams it against the inner side of the door. Even he can't stall his departure for so long.

Argent dashes away the moment the backdoor shuts closed.

“Walk me through it.” He means the schemes Theo has designed as of yet.

So Theo does.

“Apart from Stockton, they have another theater in Glendale.”

“Why Glendale? That’s too close to Beverly Hills.”

“Yeah, but it's also less than an hour from Franklin Canyon park.”

Argent tips his head to the side, then nods. “For easy victims. Popular destination with enough forestation to act quickly. And for you to shift.” here he pauses. “You’re not a small wolf and I doubt you could pass as a dog.”

Theo mulls it over. If he reveals this bit of data he’s losing a valuable ace up his sleeve. If he doesn’t give it up and they find out, he’ll be in deep shit for not mentioning it. “I could shift into a coyote back then.”

An abrupt jolt of surprise from Argent, then masked with a nosy type of wonder. “Only back then?” 

Theo has no idea why he’s even asking a question of such essence when he so clearly doesn’t trust Theo, more so than anybody from the McCall pack, by which logic he won't even consider his answer to be truthful. 

“I had to choose only one. The coyote was too loud. Impulsive and in the way. Wolf’s more methodical.” Theo clears his throat. “There’s other theaters in Utah, Colorado, Michigan and Massachusetts. One in each state. Two in Iowa.”

Holy fuck, baring such personal shit is exhausting to his nerves. And it's just words to which he gets very scant reactions. Argent can do anything with this information, can even demand that Theo shifts into his coyote form as proof and shoot him like that. Nobody’s going to question it. He can say it was self-defense to the authorities, and to the pack - that Theo escaped or went rogue, or simply tried to attack him. A seasoned hunter like him can keep his pulse in control if he’s prepared himself for the lie. 

“I’m almost entirely sure the one in Ames, Iowa is the most well-stocked. I just can’t remember if there's any weapons I should be wary of.” 

“Ones designed to kill a chimera?”

“Prolonged exposure to certain elements or temperatures can alter the nature of the chemical components and lead to a reaction. The Doctors had scheduled visits of all available theaters at least once every three months to keep an eye on their stock and its condition, in case they lost everything. Which was unacceptable. Anything can be lethal at this point.” 

“So. Stockton or Glendale? By the looks on your face, I highly doubt you’re be excited to be on Lucia Amadio’s territory.” while Argent isn’t exactly gleeful when he says it, there’s still an underlying amusement at Theo’s suffering. “And why three theaters in California? What’s so special about it?”

Theo snorts, rubs the knuckle of his thumb under his lower lip. “What does California have that the entire continent doesn’t?”

Argent straightens in his seat, his grip on the steering wheel tightening and making the leather groan from the added pressure. “The Nemeton.”

“Whoop-dee-doo. That and the Amadio pack. I'm sure you know they’re the third most powerful pack in the US. The Doctors were obsessed with Lucia’s second in command, Monica Patton, and her supposed ability to still see the dead. There’s never been a record of a werewolf capable of it. Witches, humans, even a few wendigos, but not werewolves. Or were-anything for that matter.”

That all seems to be news to Argent. He’s heard of Lucia’s pack and its influence, but apparently apart from the Doctors and possibly a few other ‘specialists’, the rumor regarding Monica must not have carried. It does sound laughable. A werewolf as a would-be ghost-whisperer.

"Glendale." he answers Argent's initial question. "And I'll go to Stockton on the way back. Might as well get it over with in one go. It's going to take me three days, I think. Four, if there's complications in Stockton, or any of the theaters."

Argent nods, thoughtful. "Open the glove box." 

Theo reaches for it, doubts there'll be any harm waiting for him. Argent wouldn't let Scott in the car if there was anything lethal for non-humans. And he's right, it's just five burner phones. 

"Pick one. It'll be how we communicate. And I mean updates every few hours. I don't hear from you for more than seven, the max limit because we can't allow mistakes due to sleep deprivation, I'm sending out a red alert. Which means I'm contacting other hunters. Max limit is allowed once per twenty-four hours, of which you will notify me via a message. The rest of the time it's two to three hours between check-ins. If anything goes wrong you send a text so I know not to expect anything for a while."

Instructions at least are easy. Theo can deal with that. Better be in correspondence with the self-appointed drill Sergeant than give the wolf and coyote ample ammunition and chips to bargain in the form of spending time with Scott's pack.  

"And contact with the others?" 

"Kept to a bare minimum. None, if possible. I'll update Scott, should be enough." meaning Scott will be the carrier pigeon between Argent and Liam and Co. And the others don't particularly give a fuck, win-win.

Good. He needs to clear his head from all of them. 

"Then guess I'll head out when we get back."

Argent seems doubtful. "Don't you need to stop wherever you live to stock up?"

"Nah. Have everything I need in the truck." yeah, everything he owns. Nobody needs to know that. It's a funny joke in a fucked up kind of way, one that he even gets to keep to himself and has to swallow back a laugh for, or maybe he's just too fucked up and finds it funny all the same.

They're five blocks away from the McCall house when they stop talking. There's no need for further exchange. The plan is in motion. 

What they don't take into account is one fuming Liam sitting on the hood of Theo's truck, arms crossed with the keys glinting and dangling from his fingers. Perched on it like he belongs there and has all the right to be acting like a lividly screeching and puffed-up crow. Scott is reasoning with him with his hip leaned on the truck when Argent parks in front of it. Theo automatically seeks out Liam's eyes through the windshield, so rapidly he can't step on the urgency. 

Liam is wearing a face identical to the one in the zoo, hard and unwavering in its acrimony. 

Theo pockets his cigarettes and gets out. "Get off my car." Liam's upper lip curls into a snarl. "Keys." Theo extends his hand, calm and unruffled versus with Liam's rising anger. "The fucking keys, Liam."

Liam makes the mistake of waving out the hand holding Theo's keys hostage when he tries to speak. Theo grips the outer side of his wrist with one palm, digs his thumb into the middle of the thin skin of the inner side with not even remotely human strength. He grabs the keys with his free hand when Liam's fingers spasm at the natural nerve stimulation. Theo side-steps the truck to get to the driver's side. 

"Get back here, you dick! I told you you're not leaving until—" 

"Until we've captured Monroe. I remember, I was there. There's this thing called multitasking, you should try it." Liam's mouth drops open. "It's what I'm doing and it's way more productive than your spitting match." 

Liam jumps off the hood when Theo opens his door. He pauses. It's a staring contest now, flickers of gold coming and going in both sets of eyes. Argent and Scott wisely don't say shit. The population of the house with super hearing is as silent and as passive as them. 

Liam finally breaks the contact to refocus his ire and glare at Argent from over his own shoulder. Argent crosses his arms, eyes going half-lidded and amused. Liam chose the wrong fucker to antagonize for answers, there's no way Argent will budge. 

"I'll be back in a few days. Stop acting like it's the end of the world." Theo sits in the driver's seat and pulls the door shut but lowers the window on his side. "Do you honestly think Argent is gonna let me leave if I don't check in every two hours? I'm not risking him sending all his hunter buddies after me." he waves the burner phone long enough for Liam to gather what it is.

The last part has an alleviating effect. Confirmation that Theo will be accounted for seems to be the trick needed for Liam to swallow back his emotions and think: Theo won't risk being on Argent's most wanted list and he's cooperating with his demands.

Liam doesn't stand in Theo's way again.

Theo is out of Beacon Hills ten minutes later. 

*

He is relatively free.

But relative freedom is still freedom.

The road is void and open, beckoning his face to split wide into an unruly grin while his lungs fill with shallow breaths. The elation takes him by surprise the first time he whoops. There's  no thought behind the action. He just lets his body do, lets it choose whichever way it wants to express the hormone-storm in his head. He lowers all the windows, blasts whatever music on the radio doesn't get on his nerves.

"Fuck yeah!" he bellows, reckless, not keeping all his attention on the road, but he's alone with no car in sight, and he's not demented enough to swerve the wheel. 

Euphoria fills every cell of his body, a high so powerful he's unable to breathe properly around it. Has he ever been this free? Has he ever felt like it? Has his life always been one glamorous cage the Doctors forged around him, surrounding him with the illusion that he had freedom as long as he was successful in whatever they wanted him to do? 

The feeling smooths over as the minutes pass, his brain returning back to its normal function. There's tiny shudders going along his limbs and back, in the remaining aftershock of whatever just took him over. Fuck enough sleep - if he can experience this sort of placid calm, aligned with himself and the wolf and the coyote, he's willing to sacrifice a lot. 

He's pretty sure that if he takes a blood test or an MRI scan to see the health of his brain, supernatural genes notwithstanding, it'll all be in absolutely stellar form after this little moment of unadulterated tranquility. 

This might pose a problem. As is, it's a problem his future self will deal with. Now, he just drives and just breathes. And he just feels.

*

Liam calls him six hours into the drive, when he's maybe an hour away from Glendale. Argent said contact kept to a bare minimum with the others. He almost doesn't answer, lets his phone ring in the passenger seat for a full thirty seconds before he picks up.

"Fucking finally."

"Liam, what do you want?" Theo's tone is way more mellow than his words suggest. 

Having time to himself has done wonders. Maybe it's the culmination of the hunt in Beacon Hills, the way it took a toll on him more than the Ghost Riders did, that is making him react this way. He'd even done a fifteen minute run in his wolf form two hours ago, despite his previous plan to not do that, when he'd been restless after sitting for so long. He'd realized there wasn't anybody here telling him he shouldn't do exactly what he wants, that he doesn’t have to take anything into account. The liberation would have knocked him off his feet had he been standing. The wolf was ecstatic too, zig-zagging in a secluded field in a non-stop sprint, jumping after birds and rabbits, terrorizing the general animal population of the area with no intention of spilling actual blood. Almost like an overactive dog. When his alarm, that he'd set up because he knew he wouldn't leave otherwise, rang he'd needed five minutes doing circles in one place to shift back. 

It wasn't just the wolf who didn't want to leave. 

“What’s going on?”

“Apart from the road and the break a few hours ago?”

“Pfff. Ass. Why aren’t you calling? I thought you were supposed to check in.” had there not been an underlying uncertainty in the waver of Liam’s voice, Theo would have fucked with him for his statement.

“I do. Just not with you. Not to rain on your parade, but it’s Argent who can sic all his hunter buddies on me with one conference call.” Theo mentally checks in with his own map, to gather which turn off the highway he should take. 

“They’re not letting us do anything.” Liam quietly confides after a minute of compatible silence. “Say we have school to worry about. What a load of fucking bullshit.” the last sentence is spit out with a hint of a lupine snarl.

Baby management time it is, then.

“First off, all that shit ended just yesterday. Second, the plans will keep changing for at least a week before they settle on something concrete and create a web of intel they’ll build their offense around. And third, a word of advice to get anywhere with Argent and Scott - if you want to help, if you want them to let you help, you can’t continue acting like an unpredictable child. Mason and Corey can’t be your only foundation. Find an actual anchor that helps you manage the IED. That’s the only way you’ll have an in on the operation.” blessedly, Liam interrupts him an astonishing zero times, though not in petulant silence.

“I think I already—” Liam cuts himself off with a sharp breath, continuing only after he’s slowly exhaled it. “I’ll work on it.”

Theo’s next words are a bit too soft when he tells him, “That’s a start.” and it is. 

It’s about goddamn time Liam focuses on discovering an anchor that can withstand any allegorical ocean storm. 

Something, anything, that isn’t Theo. Theo is too malignant, too acidic for Liam to survive him without any lasting damage to his virtuous nature.

*

Finding the operating theater proves to be harder work than he’d initially anticipated it to be. Most of the trails he’d taken before are overgrown presently. He’s too wary of shifting with how long it took him wrapping the wolf in words of reason for Theo to climb back into his own human skin. Not worth the risk. He texts Argent that he might be out of service in a bit and that he’ll get to him in an hour. Hopefully.

He wastes too much time finding the entrance, has to go back until he has service to call Argent lest he wants a Theo-hunt to occur, and then has to walk to the damn theater yet again. Thankfully, it hasn't become a natural hazard. Theo steels himself for the upcoming memories, checks over any valuable files and ingredients. It's so tempting to nick half of the shit in here, along with some of the research. 

He already knows what he could potentially do with it. He runs his eyes over the items and makes no move to take them.

Theo destroys almost everything. Any physical document he takes is to incinerate it later, in a small campfire in the canyon park, after he's read the specific contents that concern him. He also takes wolfsbane strains, ones Argent didn't have, plus some of the regular type for burning purposes. It's never bad to have it on him if he gets shot. At one point he starts laughing, this disturbing and frightened thing crawling out of his throat. He's smashing and tearing the place to shreds, claws digging anywhere they can sink into. It's not the same euphoria as eight hours ago. It's mania wrapped in that little kid's fear, the one who'd grit his newly grown permanent teeth in the face of having his front carved into with a sharp scalpel, forced down by impersonal and cruel gloved hands so they could check how his lungs were faring after an experiment gone wrong. 

He remembers that fucking metal table. He kicks it into the wall, then grabs it and pulls until ominous creaks start and his clawed fingers pull further, further. 

Crack.

There we go, he thinks. And he hurls the pieces away from himself.

A wham followed by screeching clatter.

And finally: silence.

Theo is on the floor with his back to a wall when he comes to a few minutes later. With quivering hands he sets an alarm to go off in half an hour and curls into himself, still human. The animals in him are both dead quiet, two fur balls more than anything.

He doesn't know what he's feeling. He isn't even sure he's got the right to be throwing a fit. It's cold. And it hurts his stomach, a lot, whatever it is.

He digs claws into the meat of his palms in an attempt to stop the tremors. His fangs keep tearing the inside of his mouth time and time again, the copper slathered onto his tongue making him gag.

It feels like only five minutes have passed when the alarm rings. 

Theo gets up, takes a dirty sheet in the vicinity to wipe the blood off his hands and slaps his palms over himself to dispel the dust on his clothes. He has work to do.

He finishes demolishing the theater with as little personal sentiment as he can. He can't afford to lose hold of his emotions: first when he left Beacon Hills, now this. It's easy to convince himself it's temporary until he's truly incapable of separating what makes sense and is admittedly the not so pleasant decision, from what he feels. So he focuses on nothing, moves his eye sight when another memory strikes him to dislodge it, and finishes the job.

He triple checks that nothing can or ever will work again and takes the paper files under one arm and the wolfsbane bottles under the other. The entrance he seals off with nature. Giant, heavy rocks no human can remove unless they can somehow drag a wrecking ball through the dense vegetation of the area. He covers his tracks, rearranges plants and bushes to seem like nothing has passed here for years. 

Once in service, he rings up Argent to relay that the current job is done, that yes, he's taken care of trails and shattered any future attempts of anybody entering the theater. 

He won't sleep tonight, but takes his seven allotted hours of radio silence to think and recuperate. Only thing able to help him is himself. Sound logic, along with psychological tricks he's acquired along the way. Every single piece of paper-form information he'd taken out with him is now black ash, stored in his mind for however long it lasts.

Theo does peek. More than that, he reads every page, spends the most of his night going over discoveries or failed theories, in a form of exposure therapy. A reminder of what he's helped kill and torture, who—what he is. He has at least seven more theaters to go through. If he can't handle one of the most abandoned ones, what of the fresh memory-input from the more recent ones? 

He's alone. Likely always will be. It's a mantra he's ingrained into himself since he'd started marching amongst the living again. High hopes are solely the rope around his throat curling tighter.

Theo Raeken is a walking catastrophe, an anomaly to be feared, but also a forsaken beast.

Abandoned. Alone.

(Lonely.)

And it was all of his own making. 

*

Something hovering in the air bothers him on the way back. It's another gut feeling, steadying him for whatever fucking tempest is rearing to jump him this time around. There's no music to accompany him. He's in a bit of a fragile and weakened state, needs the silence to focus and organize his thoughts. 

He doesn't know what possesses him to venture into the woods, what calls out to his senses and makes the wolf stand on full alert, or has the coyote bare its teeth and click them together in a feral display of attitude. They share the uncontested urgency that Theo has to be cautious of every buzz or oddity in his surroundings. 

He smells it not five minutes later. 

Panic, dread, fear... acrid pain.

Not human. Werewolf.

And wolfsbane.

Theo stops the truck so abruptly he lurches forward, only stopped by the abrasive seat-belt from making a collision with the windshield. Fuck it, he's gonna drive into the forest to hide the truck, then inspect this on foot. 

He also almost turns back.

It's plain none of his business, for one thing. He got tortured by Monroe once, he doesn't want a repeater when she's legitimately thirsty to spill supernatural blood no matter the cost for no other reason than to tame her own hatred born out of fear and inadequacy. In addition, he has his own problems to deal with, too, even more so evident after his little stint last night. If he inches closer he's risking getting caught with how indisposed he is.

There's also nobody within a few kilometers of him, not even car engines. That doesn't mean the hunters can't have a planned ambush in stock for him. 

He doesn't have anybody but himself. So he settles on recon for now.

It's not long before he stumbles upon tire tracks, an SUVs if he has to gauge, and finds the deserted house when he follows them. It's dark and gloomy and grimy, also not quite in place smack in the middle of the woods. It could be an even more sinister and twisted Hansel and Gretel than the original version.

It's decided then, he'll be stupid today.

The stench of blood hits him square in the face when he gets out of the truck. Not just that, but the start of decay, something having died not so long ago. Four, possibly five dead. Theo circles the premises a few times, scents the area for any lingering traces of wolfsbane apart from the ones coming from the dead. There's only one left alive. 

They must have heard Theo approaching. 

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no." a guy, done with puberty from the voice. He's muttering in the basement of the abandoned house. 

The rattle of chains, grunts of exhaustion and desperation. A high whine, followed by more rattling.

"Come on, come on," the clink of dragging metal on the stone floor of the basement, the echoing sound of it disturbing. "Come on." 

Theo enters, eyes flared and going over every available surface. No trace of poison or traps. No clicking of a bomb. But in the midst of all the foreign scents he catches it: Monroe was definitely here. 

A potent shiver envelops him, raising goosebumps that are almost painful in its wake, and makes the inadequate feeling rise up in his chest again. He can't be sure she won't be back. But first. 

Theo dashes for the stairs of the basement, his stomach turning from the foul odor. He's heavily multitasking with monitoring the sounds, the scents and the way he moves.

Death-poison-death-poison-terror-tears-blood—

Five corpses - young adults and one teenager that can't be older than fourteen. All of them filled with bullet holes. The grim thing is, they'd been shot for torture - no major arteries were at stake. It was the poison that killed them, not the multiple wounds. Some injuries are older than others, like she'd given them tiny doses of ashes to counteract part of the poisoning, but not all of it. To keep them alive for the agony.

In the very corner of the dark space sits a boy with his knees up to his face, one arm dislocated from his shoulder and the other draped around his middle in a protective stance. 

"Hey." Theo carefully side-steps one body, hands poised up where they can be seen. "Kid, come on, we need to get out of here." 

Theo has to take the chains off him, drag him to the truck and burn the wolfsbane out of his system. Then and only then can he call Argent and give him the thunder from a clear sky.

The guy peeks up at him, face swimming in blood from what are possible multiple head injuries. He's about Theo's age, newly bitten. Very much so. There's no balance between wolf and human in him. His claws remain extended, eyes going golden at random intervals of time. They settle on brown, widen at the sight of Theo's own glimmering ones and flare once more in instinctual response. He's overly confused, glancing back and forth between Theo's still golden eyes and his empty hands, like he expects this to be a party trick and to get another bullet for daring to assume he can escape. 

“I’m Theo. And I’m not here to hurt you. You can’t take the handcuffs off because of what’s in them. I can help.” they can have a get-to-know-each-other-slumber-party when there's no blood on either of them and when the possibility of Monroe or any of her lackeys coming back to finish the job is below zero. 

Theo slowly crouches in front of him and keeps his shoulders hunched to make himself less imposing. He takes the chains laced with mountain ash and tears them in one go. By this time the kid has decided to reluctantly trust him, unfastening himself ever so slowly from the protective coil and vibrating in place upon the prospect that Theo might actually get him out of here.

He has ten bullet holes - one in each arm, seven in his torso, one in his left leg. 

"Come on." Theo murmurs as he braces him on one shoulder, careful of the dangling dislocated arm. "Come on, that's it."

His anxiety is rubbing off on Theo and automatically his heart picks up in pace. The trek up the stairs is slow and once up, Theo catches him bridal style for quicker transportation. A high, pained whimper and tears form rapidly in the kid's eyes.

"Sorry, but we gotta be fast. Can't risk it." 

The brisk walk back to the truck is a blur, Theo has his eyes and ears peeled, body moving on autopilot. 

"What's your name, kid?" he asks when the kid's breathing starts to slow down a bit too much. "Hey, c'mon. Name."

"A… lec."

Alec's eyes have closed, black staining his mouth with a prominent rasp in his stuttering gasps. He can't even take a proper breath anymore, and the black veins have reached his throat, crawling along his neck further. 

Theo lays Alec down on the cargo bed of the truck, gets the wolfsbane from the backseat of the cab, then grabs the lighter he'd thrown on the passenger seat. 

"Alec, I'm not gonna lie. This is gonna hurt like a bitch. But I gotta burn the wolfsbane out of your system, okay?" 

No response. A glance up and—he's unconscious. Fuck.

Theo rips the soiled shirt off him, peeks into every wound to take out any bullet that hasn't exited him. The convulsing starts just as Theo burns the wolfsbane in a porcelain mug he'd stolen from a diner a few months back. 

Alec screams back into awareness when Theo pours ashes into the first wound. Theo clamps a palm over his mouth to silence him, manages to take some of his pain to alleviate the symptoms and works with one hand to take care of the rest of the wounds. Alec is too weak to fight him off and a part of Theo feels sick from it. He has to juggle all that and listen for any nearing vehicles or humans, to force himself to be methodical, not fast, to avoid fuck ups. 

The process is one of those instances where time moves too fast to process, and what he later finds out were fifteen minutes, pass as two. Alec is fully unconscious by the time Theo's done with his torso. He doesn't wake up when Theo fixes his dislocated shoulder, nor when he has to take another bullet out of one arm, nor when he pours the remaining wolfsbane in three equal doses for each arm and his one wounded leg. He has to support Alec's body when it tries to dispel some of the black contents in his stomach, watchful of every breath and how his head is positioned.

Alec's body relaxes when the last of the shaking ceases, poison completely out of him. His head lolls to one side, chest steadily rising up and down and with his heart no longer making an impression of a frenzied horse. 

Theo swiftly cleans his hands as efficiently as possible with a towel he finds shoved under the driver's seat, pours a bit of water on his hands to better clean them. He has to call Argent but his teeth are rattling. Instead, to give himself time and center his consciousness into the present, he sets to clean Alec up with the now damp towel. Then the bed of the truck.

There's red and black from Alec's blood, and as bruising from the chains that hasn't been able to heal with the stress he was under. That, at least, starts fading into indigo while Theo takes care of the outer colors marring Alec's tan skin. 

He carries Alec onto the backseat. It’s cramped, but they need to leave, now. Enough time has been wasted already and with the wind picking up in every direction, akin to a swirl, he can’t trace Monroe’s scent to make sure he’s not going in the same direction she is. He also pings his coordinates from the GPS on his phone, screenshots his exact location.

He dials Argent when he’s back on the highway, puts it on speaker and throws it on the dashboard.

Argent is a spitfire when he starts, “I said two to three hours, Theo, not—”

“Monroe was here." Theo cuts off him off before Argent can raise his voice further. "There’s five bodies, all werewolves. One kid is alive, in the back of the truck currently, unconscious. She tortured them for fun.” 

Dead silence will be broken in three, two, one.

“What’s the kid’s name?” the Sheriff grudgingly takes the relay first. 

“Alec. He blacked out before he could add anything to it. Newly bitten. Should be around my age, a little taller than me. Dark curly hair, brown eyes, thin. No noticeable accent or obvious descent. She’s had them for at least seven hours in that wreck of a house, judging from the blood stains in the basement. It’s been more than an hour since she’s been there, I don’t know if she’ll come back. Can’t even pick up her scent anymore.”

Alec chooses that moment to jolt awake with a gasp, back slamming to one of the doors. His fangs are down, eyes flared and with his clawed fingers spasming as though he wants to clench them, can’t unless he wants to pierce skin and muscle.

“Alec.” Theo says, soft and calm, eyeing the rear-view mirror to check up on him. “Alec, it’s Theo. You’re safe.”

Alec’s speech is slurred and with a lisp from the fangs. “You took—you took out the bullets. Thanks.” which sounds more like Yu fook ot the bulfets, fanks.

“You’re welcome. Listen, I’m on the phone with people who can help you. One of them is a Sheriff. Can you tell him your last name?” Alec frantically shakes his head, locks onto the phone on the dashboard. Even bone-tired the kid is still holding up with his understandable doubt and distress. “Okay. I’ll ask again later, when you’re better. Just... breathe, okay?”

“Theo?” it’s Scott. “You okay?”

Theo answers an “I’m fine” at the same time Liam snarks, “Like he’s gonna say anything other than ‘I’m fine’.” the quote is in an imitation of Theo that has nothing to do with him, sounds more like a troll waking up from a map. “I fucking told you!”

Theo huffs a quiet but irritated breath. “Well good for you. Now let the adults talk, toddler.”

There’s abrupt static, then Argent, who is walking away if the thuds of his steps are anything to go by. “What are you going to do?” 

“Find an obscure motel to sleep in. Maybe take the longer way back, in case she’s trailing me. If she is, we’ll know for sure that way. I can’t be certain this was only a coincidence because it’ll be a damn good one.”

Argent doesn’t want him to. It means Theo is unaccounted for longer than initially planned. The fact that he was supposed to go through Stockton on the way back must have played a role in Argent permitting his little road trip. He doesn’t have a choice, unless he wants to risk the death of another kid. Theo can take care of himself. Alec, however? Not a chance. His senses are too much for him to handle.

“Hours still stand.”

“Roger that. I’ll send you the location of the abandoned house.”

“You do that.” and the line goes dead.

Theo sends the screenshot, right before Liam texts him. 

From: Liam

> u better not be bleeding out currently

Should he be texting and driving? Nope. Will he? Yep. One handed, though, so it takes him quite a lot longer to respond.

To: Liam

< I’m not

< And you better be looking for an anchor

From: Liam

> workin on it 

He better be.

So long as it’s not Theo. Anything but Theo.

Notes:

Thanks for reading! If you liked it, please consider a comment!

Here's the link for the moodboard if anybody wants to like/reblog or just to scream about Thiam with me.

Chapter 3: So help me find my way, the way I came from

Notes:

I'm so sorry for the long wait! And thank you, to all of you kind folks who left me kudos and validated me with comments ❤️ This one is a little longer as a compensation for the delay.

As per usual, canon-typical violence ahead.

Title of the chapter is from "Autograf -Nobody Knows (ft. Wynne)", aka THE Thiam song lmao

Hope you enjoy!

Theo manages to calm Alec down just enough for them to hold a normal conversation, forgoes asking anything personal and lets Alec do the questioning instead. The safer he feels, the less likely it is for him to wolf out and manage to kill them both.

But there's something off about the kid. His hyper-vigilance isn't just because he's a freshly-baked werewolf. Theo's seen way too many newly created beings. Jumping from human to not even remotely human causes an effect called 'lose thy shit over the smallest of new inputs due to how loud, smelly and bright everything suddenly is'. 

He's still anxious and cautious, but beneath all that Alec is mainly... curious. The stress, from what Theo can scent, is a lingering element from Monroe's torture spa.

He keeps his head cocked when a car zooms past them on the road, or when they enter a more rural area to evade cameras. It takes Theo putting on the radio on the lowest of low volumes, on a hunch, for the pieces to align. 

Alec quite literally lights up upon hearing whatever new bubble-gum pop song is the new jam. He's—he's astonished as he leans between the front seats, almost like he can submerge himself fully into the lyrics and the beat if he edges as close as physically possible.

Oh.

It can't be that simple, right?

"You were deaf, weren't you?"

Extremely insensitive, yes, and also a byproduct of growing up in an environment that didn’t tolerate indirect questions. He'd learned the painful way that if he wanted to know something, he had to be upfront about it.

Alec looks like he’s swallowed his tongue, stupefied, and shifts away from between the front seats to the back seat as he takes the statement like one would a mean jab. To Theo’s relief he doesn’t lock himself up, nor does he appear to be offended. It resembles embarrassment more, fused in with something darker like shame or chagrin aimed at himself. 

“That obvious?”

“Not really. I just know how to observe.” 

For whatever reason, an itch to tell Alec about his past crawls to the surface and keeps biting his skin with its greed. As a form of self-punishment he’d developed after coming back from the prison. He’s kept it under wraps, nobody but his own ass is aware of this behavior. As much as it is a way to enforce a penalty on himself, it’s also, mostly, a cement foundation to not permit any false hopes to bloom. Being reminded of how unwelcome he is, why he’s so unwelcome wherever he goes - it's honestly what keeps him sane. No longing means no disappointment. No disappointment means he can steady out his needy brain faster.

Lines to not be crossed, life dictated by boundaries born of the consequences forged by his own malice. Maybe one day it'll be different. For now he does what he knows.

Alec moves the conversation to another topic. “Who were those people, on the phone? Your... pack? I mean, I gathered werewolves have packs like real wolves do.”

“No." Theo minutely bites into the inside of his cheek, lets go. "I don’t have a pack.” it stings, kind of a lot, even if it's the ultimate truth. At least he admitted it with no infliction this time, small mercies.

Alec’s head emerges in between the seats again, a dubious expression on him with his lips pursed in crystal clear skepticism. 

“You want the full R-rated horror story edition or the simplified, PG-13 version?” he snaps, with more bite than Alec deserves.

It’s a mistake on his part. A little bit of self-sabotage and a lotta bit of self-preservation. He’s on a spree. Might as well stay committed, huh?

Alec checks Theo’s face and body language, as best as he can from his position, the gold of his eyes subsiding for a second or two before it comes back again. And he chooses.

“Full R-rated horror story edition.”

After Theo turns off the radio and shoves Alec's face back, mindful to not make it too forceful, he tells him. About the Doctors, the McCall pack infiltration, just how much of their core he'd torn out in his lust for a pack and power, about Josh and Tracy. He doesn't spare a detail. 

Any sane person would lie their ass off, try to earn Alec's trust by sweet talking the kid. Theo believes himself to be intelligent, if sometimes too emotion-driven, and aims for survival. Even so, he's not quite on the sane side. He's also in a weird mood where he has to talk, specifically about this. He's just never had the opportunity to do it in a manner where he's the one controlling the narrative completely, to the last crumb. Alec doesn't know  him, hasn't been made to bleed by Theo's hands. He's impartial to everything but the information served in front of him.

Alec stays bundled up in the backseat, the swish of his claws popping back and forth, which he has no control over, among the few sounds present apart from the purr of the engine and Theo's voice. He asks no questions, makes no interruptions or comments when Theo veers off the story lane once or twice.

It's what Theo imagines therapy would be like. 

Talk, talk, talk, until you've expelled every bloody atom.

There's a few minutes of silence when he concludes the disguised sin confession, and he sits in wait for the panic, accusations and a possible outburst that would lead Alec to try and jump out of the truck. 

The first thing to come out of Alec's mouth is: 

"So I fell into the hands of one murderer and got saved by another, is what you're saying?"

Theo cackles, not meanly, but in an uncharacteristic bout of anxiety at having spilled his metaphorical guts to a guy he knows nothing of. Only to get this as a response. All in a spontaneous burst of stupidity aimed to prove—

To prove what, exactly? That he's a sociopathic nutjob? To incinerate the bridge between them before anything else has had the chance to do so? To make it happen on his own terms instead of developing sympathy for the kid, or God forbid a bond via trauma, then have Argent slap a clinical hand of salt between them and destroy Alec's formed opinion? Yeah, probably all of the above. Theo has no interest in having another well-aimed rod of steel topple him out of his just barely balanced state of mind. He'd rather be done with it now than give hope the chance to spring a bud. 

"Pretty much." he rasps out, tagging Alec's chemo signals and mentally cataloguing any and every car in the vicinity for when shit gets beyond fucking ugly.

Only Alec isn't afraid. Whatever thought sequence is going through in his head, it's helped him manage the shift and calmed his pulse. He's confused, uncertain and more than a smidge unsettled, but not fearful. 

"Then why did you save me?" 

Theo meets his eyes in the rear view mirror. Green on gold but no fangs, just an expectant eyebrow raise.

"You didn't have to. I vaguely remember where your car was. You stopped out of your way, to help. Sought out the abandoned house." Alec speaks a bit slower than considered normal, stumbling in his speech. "Probably smelled the corpses and the—what was it? Wolfsbane? You knew I was dead meat. And there was nobody to monitor you or your moral compass, what actions would be right or wrong. Nobody to witness the good deed and earn you points. Or to witness you not doing a thing to help, giving you the option to just leave. So, why?"

Theo grips the steering wheel tighter. Leather creaks and he loosens the hold. 

Of course he's landed himself another smart one. Alec being deaf for however long must have formed him into an abnormally overanalyzing person, forced to hone a razor wit to compensate for his disability. 

"See, in my world, there's a lot of shit. People, circumstances, decisions, places, obstacles - all shitty. Yeah, some humans are worse than others. Done horrific things, be it justifiable or not. I don't know why you did what you did, nor was I a victim of it. What I do know is that you saved me, healed me and didn't leave me for dead. When you had the choice to do it without repercussion."

Theo snorts. "Did you miss the part where I single-handedly manipulated the entirety of Scott's pack, physically harmed almost all of them, then killed Scott, if temporarily? Or did that detail elude you?"

"No."

"Then?"

Alec's upper lip raises a little, in an uncontained irritated twitch.

"What's your motive? If I take that you're that person—a murdering sociopath who thrives on taking everybody's power for the sole sake of personal dominion—what are you going with here? A certificate that you've reformed, via my salvation? An act aimed to come clean to me in order to earn sympathy and trust?"

Funny that it hadn't even crossed his mind. Theo before skinwalker hell would have operated on those seeds, exploited them, used them as a proof of his innocence. To hide the filth and rot of his essence.

Alec doesn't push further. The next time Theo glances back at him in the rear view mirror, he's with his eyes closed, head cocked to one side. Listening. 

Theo passes through a few small cities, searching for the most boring of the bunch. He's also facing a dilemma.

Land himself in a bigger city, with more people as potential witnesses that would deter Monroe from shooting them point blank, or an obscure one, anonymous, where they can blend in and wait out her next step. That is, if she's indeed after them and it wasn't a bizarre bout of bad luck. He's too paranoid to accept it's a coincidence. They don't exist in his book. 

He has to equally equate Alec's powerlessness when it comes to the shift into the risk assessment. If the kid wolfs out and Theo can't contain him, he's putting multiple unsuspecting and unarmed humans in harm's way. Innocent lives lost due to an impetuous miscalculation and it's bye-bye freedom.

Obscure city it is. 

Theo chooses a motel in the middle of the scale from downright disgusting, so much so that even a normal nose can smell the various odors and musty sheets, to pristine and pricey as fuck. The less stenches there are, the less overwhelmed Alec will be. A more secluded area is ideal, with a bigger number of unoccupied rooms and no nearby buildings to nitpick at Alec's self-control. Theo just hopes he's left with enough money for food and fuel. He can't play the lost tourist to pickpocket rich assholes and leave the kid alone.

God, he's a babysitter now.

Just perfect. 

The clerk at the desk barely looks away from her phone while giving him the key to the room. He books it for two nights, will pay for another if he has to, better not put that much cash to waste if they gotta duck and hide elsewhere. 

Alec is back to the fidgety, neurotic music-box doll state. For anybody else he's sticking out like a junkie gone too long without a fix. Sweaty, nervous, with a general suspicious behavior that can be attributed to hallucinations with how he randomly whips his head this way and that when there's nothing there. To a human's eye and ear, that is. 

Theo takes his duffel bag from the trunk. In it are all the essentials they need - clothes, some food, toiletries, charger, water. 

Even this middle ground motel seems to be too much for Alec. He's nearing a panic attack, pulse way too high and emanating a strong lemon scent. Not sweet like a pastry, but like the freshly squeezed juice of a very bitter lemon that stings your eyes and nose. 

"Why don't you take the first shower? I gotta call Argent either way." at Alec's frown he clarifies, "The man I talked to when we were in the car. I have to check in every two to three hours. Kinda mandatory."

Alec swallows, nods. Theo points at the duffel bag, to indicate he take whatever he needs from there and sends his location to Argent before dialing him. 

Argent picks up on the third ring. "Theo."  

"Sent you the coordinates. There's no sign we're being followed. Alec's doing okay."

Alec makes a face to show he's not convinced about the 'doing okay' part. Carefully, so as to not puncture anything with his still-present claws, he takes a long sleeved shirt and sweatpants, along with the shower gel bottle after a nod from Theo, and goes to the bathroom, the door sliding shut after him with a soft click.

"Stilinski contacted the local police department. They got the bodies and all the evidence they could, but it doesn't look like she went back in again. McCall is on his way to sort things out, might manage to get an APB on Monroe if we connect her legally to the murders."

"Good."

"Did Alec give you a second name? Or anything we can link to a missing person's report?" 

Theo can tell him Alec has been deaf for however long or let the kid decide for himself if he wants them to know. There's no way for him to pinpoint if Alec's aversion to sharing personal information is due to his want to not be found, or distrust. 

He goes with: "No. And I don't think it's a good idea pushing him when he got bit two days ago. He can't even get out of the shift yet." 

He imagines Argent will be gritting his teeth at this turn. Not only has his leash slipped out of his grasp but here's yet another factor beyond his control. There's also the possibility of Theo omitting info. Which Theo is. 

Argent sighs, "I take it you're clocking in another seven hours?" 

"Not yet. I'll try and get him to calm down first. Explain some shit before we hit the hay. I'll text you when we're done."

"Fine." and the line goes dead. 

Theo very intentionally tries to not listen in on Alec like a creep, can't help but focus a bit of his hearing again when random crashes sound, followed by hissed out shushing. The first time he registers the shushing he does a double take, on the verge of laughing at the action. Something else arises alongside it, not bad. Comfortable. Kind of warm? Hell if he knows.

He takes out the water bottles and all the protein bars, along with the jerky and M&Ms, leaving the bigger share for Alec. When it's his turn to shower he just points at the food and Alec makes no attempt to reject it. At least the water pressure is nice. He relishes in it for a few minutes, just standing under the hot spray to take in the uncommonly pure form of comfort in liquid form cascading down his skin. He hasn't had this in what feels like an eternity. 

If he ever manages to survive long enough to have a place of his own he'll invest in a nice fucking shower and never let himself half-ass a single trip there. He's learned to cherish the smallest of comforts - steaming home-made food, a clean bathroom with warm water, a space to call his own, the security that he doesn't have to go with no food after lunch if he wants to have gas in the tank, the luxury of indulging a craving for a grilled sandwich when he gets one at three in the morning. And so on. 

Small things, that's all he needs.

What he would 'spoil' himself with, hypothetically, is books. He misses the weight of a paperback in his hands, the smell of old and new editions, dragging the pad of his thumb over the lower pages when he lands on a good plot point. While it's rare, he would sometimes he stop by the bookstore just to mentally mark shit he wants to read one day, to idle in the aroma unique to the place, to sit in comfortable silence and gently touch his fingertips over fragile pages. To pretend for a little while, on his worst days when he's been going on not a wink of sleep for some time.

Today these thoughts hurt. 

They hurt bad. Like that weird and perturbing pit he gets when he thinks of Tara, the real one, when he looks at Liam and catches him already peering at him with something that holds nothing hostile, when Dora's warm hand grips his shoulder and brings him more food immediately after because not enough cushion on you, darling, you need it to protect the bones, when Scott called him to beg for Theo's help in the hospital—why would you do that? how can you let yourself even think of me as any type of resort, don't you remember? I killed you because you were in my way, and the only thing that brought you back was the unparalleled love of your mother—

Yeah, it hurts.

He can't think about it anymore if he wants to keep some illusion of dignity. And because his eyes sting - he can't force them to stop. There's a deep, pulsing ache at the base of his throat, right behind his thyroid. If it keeps on for just a little longer it's going to bruise him, isn't it? That's what it feels like. 

He closes his eyes and wells up his lungs with a powerful inhale, counting seven slow seconds. When he's at his limit, a prickling and burning starting in his chest, he takes in another soundless gasp of a breath, filling his lungs to a full hundred percent capacity. He holds in for four seconds before the burn inches on the side of too much, and he then lets all that air leave his lungs in a single, unobstructed swoosh.

No more hurtful thoughts. He's okay enough to take reality again.

Theo continues his shower, thorough with his cleaning process. The compulsive need to get rid of the grime properly instead of ducking under a gas station sink tips his hands into applying more pressure than necessary. He rubs until the shower gel is nothing but white bubbles on his flesh, thick and aggressively stripping when expanded to its full potential. It'd been a nice surprise that it was not only cheap and smelled good, but its scent stayed longer than any previous thing he's bought. It washes out the lingering signals of his useless emotional moment.

By the time he's out Alec is done with his share of the food, two thirds of his water bottle gone. He's with his back to the headboard, listening to his surroundings 'till wherever his hearing stretches to. His claws are still out. Theo can't say anything about his eyes, but seeing as his mouth is firmly closed and the skin around it is stretched Theo bets the fangs aren't hidden. 

He bites into his protein bar when Alec finally breaks the silence. "How did you learn to control it? It's—it's like I've been watching TV on low brightness, saturation and sound and all of a sudden it's all up to max." 

"Found something else to fixate on. With my attention not entirely on the compulsion to shift, it was easier to manage. Imagine it like hunger - when you're occupied with a lot of things you might not feel hungry for a long time, right? Treat it as a state of your body."

Alec crosses his legs on his bed as he wrings his hands together, then starts pulling at the sleeves of the shirt. His lips pull tight as he stares at the bed spread. He takes a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds, exhales it for just as long. But then a honk of a car startles him into a full body jerk, heart catapulting again. He gazes at Theo, pleading-looking. For what exactly Theo is uncertain. Comfort? Guidance? Silently begging him to not be scornful? 

God, this kid needs to be handled carefully. If he fucks this up he's also fucking up Alec's integration process into society. Kid obviously has discomposing trust issues rivaling Theo's but creates personal bonds at an alarming rate if shown something as simple as kindness. Theo has no walls and is at a constant bluff, hoping nobody is looking well enough to notice their absence, and he acted on impulse, then somehow that turned out to be actually helping somebody in need—that turned out to be indeed a need to help, what the fuck—so now he's questioning his every action of this part of the day and just starting to realize that... He wanted to help, and he did.

Now what?

Alec's taken a liking to his pragmatism, is trying to befriend him voluntarily, with no outer stressor forcing him. So. Now, what? Is Theo supposed to keep on talking to him him and let him become a friend? Jesus, he's genuinely straining to remember how he made friends with Scott and Stiles, and he's genuinely trying to solve friendship-creation like it's a chemical equation.

He should be careful with Alec first, he offers to himself as a bargain. Then figure it out as it happens. 

"Hey. It's okay. I know it's a lot." the words sound bleak and robotic to him,  though seem to actually do the job. He's gotten so good at summoning his social masks that when they're off, they sometimes feel like an untouched subject when he's not performing them as an act with an orchestra of lies to lean on, and with an inevitable fin of spilled blood. 

Alec leans his forearms on his inner legs. "I just. It's too much." Small tremors leave his fingers shaking uncontrollably. 

Maybe it's not just the new addition of lycanthropy. "How long have you been deaf?"

Alec shrugs, shoulders moving in a wave. "Six years. Happened when I was twelve. Out of nowhere. In the span of two months, since it started, I couldn't hear a thing. Apparently it was a genetic mutation."

The idea is just as spontaneous as confessing his sins. It's a long shot posing as a potential problem-alleviator. 

Theo plugs his charger, then his phone to it to tap a few times and land himself in his music library. Oftentimes he just uses it as background noise, same as the radio. He's used to the noise of the numerous labs he grew up in. One of his first problems, once brought back, was the lack of sound around him in his truck. That's why he opted for a little more populated regions after a few unsuccessful nights at relatively secluded areas close to the edge of the city. He still didn't get enough shuteye with random cops tapping his window, but it's easier to fall asleep with the buzz of cars, near homes, buildings. That hasn't really changed.

Theo puts on a song on the lowest volume setting, leaves the phone on the nightstand between them. Alec blinks rapidly, instantly shifting closer to the phone like he can see the sound emitting from the small speakers. The effect is just as momentary - the lemon scent starts dropping in potency, so much so that Theo can catch the lingering trace of the shower gel under it. 

"Figured you haven't had the chance to catch up." 

Alec comes out of his trance, flinches back with his spine straightening. He's embarrassed of his behavior. 

"You can go through everything tomorrow, if you want. I've got headphones, too, but I suggest you leave them be for a little while longer. It won't bode well to force such concentrated sound into your already abused ear drums."

"For a murderer, you have a surprising mother-henning streak." 

Theo lifts a brow. He doesn't know whether to be impressed by Alec's ability to joke about the blood on Theo's hands, or if he should be more careful with a kid who isn't just saying he's seen a lot of shit.

Though, Alec's not killer material, more inclined to mingle well with Scott and Liam and the natural pure intentions they possess. He's not calm because he's used to Theo's world, no. It's a defense mechanism most likely. Panic overwhelms the nervous system, and inducing that state while lacking even one of all five senses is far from ideal. Alec has had to teach himself to keep his composure no matter what, the hard way. 

Besides, Theo can smell his own kind. There's just something about bad people. Almost like an active decay of their soul. Alec isn't one of them.

"Hey, I'm just saying. If you want to faint and risk developing even a small amount of trauma from music of all things, don't do it. What you choose to do is entirely up to you. But you lose the right to bitch about it later."

Alec makes a sour expression but agrees with him, assent marked with two successive downward tips of his chin. He slants the phone a look and he's close to slipping into somewhat of a trance as he listens, eyelids dropping low, shoulders losing their tightly coiled tension. 

It gives Theo another idea. "Try to retract your claws and extend them again to the beat of the song."

Part of the doubt creeps back in the form of Alec's crossed legs twitching. 

"Just try. If it doesn't work - it doesn't work. We'll try something else. But you need to wind down before you go to bed."

If he doesn't, he won't be able to sleep and every single vibration traveling through the air will keep him on his toes the whole night. Supernatural creatures with high hearing capabilities tend to have that problem a lot before they learn how to focus the input into a light-switch they can turn on and off and sometimes, maybe even balance it in the middle like Theo's preferred state.

"Imagine them sliding back. Visualize it. If learning through watching is your forte: here." Theo lifts his own hand, clenched, before he flexes his fingers and his claws snap into existence. Then he sheathes them and repeats the entire process, each time faster than the last to where he reaches his usual speed. 

Alec peers down at his own wiggling fingers, clasps a palm around his right wrist, mindful of the claws, to hold it in place. His fingers jerk but nothing happens. No matter how many times he tries to mimic Theo, his claws stay a glaring presence. Well, conscious shift takes some time to master.

"Okay, the motion that makes them protrude in the first place is stretching your fingers in a quick, but powerful manner, yeah? Picture the same thing, but to a lesser extent. You're not straining the ligaments to force the claws out, instead you're coaxing them back. Look."

Theo waits for Alec's attention to fall on him. Extend, retract, but this time he's careful to portray the amount of force, or lack thereof, in both motions. 

Alec closes his golden eyes, chest expanding with a deep inhale. His fingers spasm a little, followed by… nothing.  Something seems to be going on in his head, though, because he doesn't panic or turn to Theo for immediate instructions. 

He's concentrating on the music, Theo realizes. Right now Theo's voice is unneeded. 

When the piano and thudding sound of the song start in a rhythmical succession Alex's fingers jerk sharply like he's just made the claws protrude. The next moment, when the beat repeats, he twitches them in a milder manner and sheathes them. As the beat progresses in the same leveled intensity, Alec uses it as a marker of speed, the sound of his claws sticking in and out of existence matching along seamlessly. 

Only when the song ends does Alec open his eyes and bare his fangs in a wide and blinding smile. There's child-like happiness in his scent, like spring sunshine. It's a little contagious. The corners of Theo's lips pull up. 

Alec's claws are nowhere in sight.

They use the same method for his eyes and fangs, with Theo slowly walking him through, how it should sound and feel above else. All in all, it takes them another hour, with the fangs taking the longest. His eyes are the most likely to act out by far, but they're also the element Alec manages to take control of the quickest.

By the end of it Alec's yawns are so big that his jaws pops one too many times from them. Theo warns him that the alarm is due in seven hours and after a message to Argent, they go to bed. Alec, dead tired from all of the monstrosities he's had to witness and the concluding adrenaline crash from them, falls asleep in less than two minutes. 

Theo, on the other hand, has visitors in the form of ghosts with sharp teeth. Destroying one of the operating theaters has shaken loose some memories, causing a part of his altered ones to regain clarity. There's phantom scalpels on his skin at times, the touch of cold leather gloves shoving his head this way and that, weird, contorted voices informing him of his status and the younger Theo from his memories hoping to anything listening that he doesn't hear the word failure.

With his hands' death grip on the bed sheets he fights to keep his pulse a steady thump, or he'll wake Alec up. He's either too cold or too overheated, then so tired he can't fall asleep, followed by a bout of alertness when a car so much as drives too close to the motel. He maybe has two and a half hours of sleep total, at best, when the alarm blares in the morning. 

Alec jumps in his bed, shift out. Being groggy has an immense effect on his control, stopping him from getting it all under wraps. Theo texts Argent, as per the deal, to tell him they're back online. There's a text from Scott asking if both Theo and Alec are doing okay, to which Theo responds with an affirmative, telling him that Alec is a fast learner—it took him five minutes to figure out how to answer, finally settling on the easier option. The demanding text from Liam, which is mostly cursing disguised as the same question Scott asked, Theo answers with yet another middle finger emoji.

Alec isn't fit for outdoor wandering, not even for staying in the car while Theo orders them breakfast from a diner. They'll have to take everything from the vending machine to actually satiate their hunger, so not an alternative either. He relents and orders most of the breakfast menu from a place online with nice reviews. 

After they eat Alec is much more stable and less likely to freak out over a bed spring creaking nine doors away. They go over the same set of exercises as last night, with music filling in the background. Theo gives guidance where necessary, lets Alec figure things out on his own. It's the most important component of his learning process - he has to do it on his own, find what works for him, what lags his progress, what benefits him and so forth. 

In the afternoon Alec has a stilted conversation with the Sheriff, Theo migrating to the bathroom in a semblance of privacy. Alec won't budge, doesn't tell the Sheriff anything and it must frustrate the man if he drops the bomb Theo has been dreading. 

"Kid, he's not keeping you against your will, is he?" it's a hushed whisper, soft and concerned. 

There's noise on both ends: Alec sharply negating the statement, as if it's a direct insult they'd even think Theo the whacko of all people is keeping him hostage, and Scott squeaking out an affronted Sheriff!, followed by Stiles cutting in I mean, it's a valid question, Scott, the only thing Theo is a poster boy for is evil. Kid has the right to know.

"Excuse me?" Liam's voice is the loudest one of the bunch, carrying through the speaker with much more clarity despite him not being the one holding the phone itself.

Theo rolls his eyes to the high heavens. He shouldn't have let Argent talk him into answering some of the Sheriff's questions concerning the scene of the murders that would inevitably lead to him wanting to also question Alec. It was a trap he practically walked into gift wrapped and all. 

"I know. Theo told me." 

Theo covers his mouth with a hand to scrub away the grin at the loud silence. This kid is most definitely something.

"I know what he did to you. All of you. In detail. He tried to warn me off yesterday while we were looking for a motel." Theo can only catch the Sheriff's abrupt inhale. "So I get your viewpoint and I'm asking you to understand mine - he's the reason I'm talking to you right now. He didn't have to do what he did, but he did it anyway." Alec lets that one ring for a while longer. "Thank you for your concern, but I'm okay with him."

Theo mutters under his breath, knowing Alec will hear him, "You have no self-preservation skills." and he snorts at Stiles' comment in the background.  

"I'm calling it, Theo is making him read from a carefully constructed script, with evil little bullet points. Or he's under hypnosis. Liam, don't even start with me, he's evil. We all know it. Evil. Repeat after m—"

Beep. 

Theo laughs with no reservation, opens the bathroom door to poke his head out. "You did not." 

Alec shrugs, gives a tiny smile and puts on a new song. "I did."

*

"So, only the alpha has red eyes. Betas and omegas have golden, but if they take the life of an innocent they turn blue. Werecoyotes, too. Hellhounds and kitsunes - orange. Uh, werejaguars - green."

It's been information overload for Alec. He'd insisted, said he prefers being in the know as quickly as Theo is willing to teach him if this is his new life now, as opposed to signing his death contract through deliberate obliviousness. And he's an astonishingly quick learner.

Theo hums, checking out the map on his phone to plan which roads they should stay clear of. 

"And let me guess, no explanation about that either."

"Pretty much. Get strapped in for a fuck ton of shit having no logic or a reasonable explanation." 

Alec throws himself on his bed and lifts his hands above his face, extends and retracts his claws smoothly. It has taken him less than twenty-four hours since Theo gave him the basics to do it consciously and he's already improving rapidly. His dedication, along with sleep and food, are only a part of the reason. Trusting his senses to guide him is natural to him, which is largely why he's such a fast learner. 

Theo catches him staring. He's been waiting all day for Alec to ask about either Monroe or more of Theo's past.

"Can you tell me about her? About Monroe."

Theo lowers the phone face down on the bed. It takes him over half an hour to tell the entire succession of events, from the start to the final moments in the hospital with Liam and the Anuk-Ite in the high school library. Alec's heart rate is unsteady the entire time, the poignant bite of lemons filling the small room and Theo has the urge to crack the window open further. 

"Agent McCall, Scott's dad, is working on making her a wanted fugitive legally as we speak, so we have more forces against her. And I'm guessing Argent will want to buddy up as many packs as possible to establish some net of communication and a sighting board to track her to our best abilities."

"Okay, but. Why are you helping them? I'd have reckoned you'd run in the cacophony and get away from Beacon Hills as soon as possible."

How is he supposed to explain that it's a selfish action? Not even a want but a need at this point, to protect Liam, something he is entirely a stranger to - he's only ever had those instincts directed at his own self. That the wolf and coyote in him alike whine at the possibility of Liam falling into Monroe's hands and dying by a bullet between his eyes. Or worse, end up chained up like a rabid animal, tortured for the barbaric sport of it and to feed a fucked up form of sadism, akin to what she'd done to Alec and the rest of the victims in the abandoned house. 

"You told me they're not your pack."

"Blew that shot months ago."

"Then why?"

Theo's bad mood turns for the worst. "Leave it, Alec."

"You could have gotten away."

"I said, leave it." the growl seeps into Theo's tone, makes it rumble lowly, eyes briefly illuminated in gold for a tiny fraction of a second, before he makes it fade away. 

Alec lists back with his shoulders nearly touching his ears, his own eyes sparking in a congenial response. 

Theo looks down to his phone only to grit his teeth. Losing his temper isn't a thing he permits himself often. It makes him stupid and impulsive the second he unscrews the latch even the tiniest bit. He takes the remote control to turn on the TV in a voiceless end to the conversation. 

He's just about to hit 'send' on the online order of their dinner when he hears it. 

"Two unidentified bodies were found near Lake Hughes earlier this afternoon. The victims were shot multiple times, bearing signs of blunt force trauma as well."

Theo's head whips toward the TV, stomach doing a terrible and uncomfortable swoop.

"Our sources say that they had also been dosed with, quote 'weird, untraceable drugs' end quote, with lethal side effects in the form of black coloring of the veins. Specialists confirm it is not a form of tissue death but indeed a side effect of the aforementioned drugs. It's advised to not consume any substances of strange or unknown origin until a full investigation has been conducted. The authorities are still searching for the perpetrators."

Dread piles up heavy in his stomach.

Oh, fuck. 

Theo almost drops his phone as he switches between apps to dial Argent, listening if the reporter adds anything to the case. Alec is like a rock, unmoving with his chest still after his initial gasp. His glowing eyes reflect in the screen of the TV, claws emitting a snick when they'd popped out in the middle of the news broadcast. 

"Alec, breathe." Theo throws his empty water bottle at him to snap him out of it. "And pack. We're leaving."

Argent picks up. "Isn't it a bit too early for—"

"There's two new victims. Found this afternoon at Lake Hughes, shot with wolfsbane."

There's rustling from the other line, "That's fifteen miles from where you and Alec are."

"I know. We're out the door the moment I hang up." Theo throws his charger in the duffel bag, snags the pillow—hey, he needs it more than the motel does—while Alec checks the bathroom for anything they might have left there. "What I don't know is whether she's aware we're onto her or not. That's a bold statement - leaving the bodies with traces of wolfsbane and stark evidence of the poisoning itself isn't a mistake."

A colorful litany of curses flows out of Argent. "She's desperate for attention." 

"Well, she has it. Are you on good terms with Lucia Amadio? I'm making a pit stop through Stockton after all."

"What for?"

There's no way Theo can waste time deactivating the operating theater there, not with Alec in tow. He's gonna accidentally kill himself in those labs if he so much as steps a foot in there and Theo doesn't have eyes on the back of his head to oversee him properly. Argent knows this. 

What he will also find out, to a much more extensive degree than what his pack witnessed pre- Theo being sent to the skinwalker prison, is that Theo can be one heavily unhinged fucker when he sets his mind to it. 

"Three guesses what I'll ask an alpha to do to help me remember the rest of the whereabouts of the Doctors' supernatural waste."

He's about to get his brains scrambled by a terrifying woman who has all the right to despise his guts.

Memory manipulation is a tactic he uses only when he's the one doing it. But if Gerard knew about the Doctors, he might have known of an alleged abandoned operating theater. Theo just can't risk that. So much shit can go wrong - from a weaponized slash experiment-friendly base at Monroe's disposal, to the birth of a successful mutant wolfsbane strain they might not be able to discern the parents of, thus altering the scenario of the war exponentially. And the weapons against supernatural creatures as a whole. Seeing as Theo is categorized as one, in spite of being more on the side of a freaky science experiment, and also seeing as he'd like to live a little bit longer, it's counterproductive to his existence that that bitch stumbles on even a single instrument from the labs. 

And now that he's over a hundred percent certain there are more operating theaters spread around the States it's a no brainer. Last night's unusually vivid nightmares confirmed it. If Monroe is on her way to one, they're so fucked that they're halfway on their knees already.

"And Alec?"

"He's coming with. And hey, if he likes it there, she can teach him a lot more than either one of us can."

"Then I'll give her a call and warn her."

Theo hangs up, pockets the phone and throws his duffel bag on one shoulder. "C'mon."

They're speeding down a no-name road when Alec asks, "You're leaving me with whoever it is we're going to?" 

There's no emotion behind it, not even accusation or anger. Like he's used to this happening, too - being abandoned. 

"Only if you want to. If you like it there. If not, I won't make you stay with her, nor will she. She's a fair alpha, respects people's wishes. She won't force you to do anything against your will."

The admittance that Theo has a history with her steers the conversation in the direction of him retelling what he'd told Scott and Co regarding emotion-pulling and Ryan. At least by the end of it Alec is back to normal, no longer so devoid of external tells. 

"If there's a possibility of her killing you, why exactly are we headed her way? Especially when you just told me her pack is one of the biggest in the west and overall in the country?"

"You remember what I did to Lydia, the banshee?"

Maybe reminding Alec what Theo truly is, underneath the helpful persona he's seen, will make him back away.

"The uh, the memory-pulling thing. The one that—" Alec swallows, throat clicking. 

"The one that practically made her comatose and led to her being tortured by a psychotic psychiatrist as a result? Yeah. That one." 

Alec shuts up after that. They spend two hours in silence. Theo thinking of ways to appeal to Lucia Amadio without actually begging for his life and Alec mulling over shit that plays with his chemo signals like he's on a roller coaster of anxiety, anger and fear. Fuck, Theo just wants to reach Lucia's fast and get his answers. If luck is on his side even a little Alec might like it there, might be taken in by a good pack that will care for him and all of that not at the expense of being bound by Beacon Hills' curse. 

"What happened to you?" 

The confusing question does an efficient job of pulling him to reality, to the inside the truck. "What?" 

"Something happened to you. Between killing Sebastien, the Beast or whatever, and those Ghost Rider things taking people."

Theo weighs his pros and cons as per usual. It's his own goddamn fault for not giving Alec enough credit that he'll align the pieces and see the cracks that stop them from fitting snugly together. 

"What makes you say that?"

"You said you convinced them they needed your help if they want to stand a chance against the Ghost Riders. That you helped, uh, Liam? Then you helped him again, with Monroe. Whereas before that you only wanted them under your control. Something happened. Something changed in the interlude."

Alec pokes his head between the front seats like he'd done so yesterday and Theo repeats his act in the scene too, smushes his head away with one palm. 

"What makes you think I didn't have an ulterior motive those times, too?"

He doesn't expect the spiked inflection, "You want me to make an adequate judgement of you as a person? I'm gonna need all the facts, maybe, don't you fucking think?" 

Theo swerves the truck a little in his surprise. 

Here it goes, then.

"Kira opened a skinwalker prison with her sword and they sent me there for a few months. Happy?" 

Just the thought of that twisted mirror to Beacon Hills Memorial makes him want to pull over and throw up the bile from his stomach. 

He hears her then, a broken record player stuck on a single, little word. 

"Theeeeoooo."

A gaping torso, ribs sticking out with blood dripping down the tiles as Tara advances towards him. Lifeless, lizard-like eyes. Chalky skin. An icy hand slips between his ribs, delves deeper, clamps around her own heart in his chest. The sickening crack of his ribs giving under the pressure when Tara rips it out from between them.

Finally hers again. 

"Theo!" Alec has leaned half his weight on Theo's seat to tilt the steering wheel right and avoid them colliding with another car. 

They're lucky they're at the edge of a forest so that Theo can quickly stop the car and shoot himself out of it, to fall on his knees and heave over the ground. 

"Theeeeoooo."

He can feel her fingers in his chest. He can—

"Theeeeoooo."

He sees her across from him, her head tilted, on all fours like him. Ready to lunge at him. 

Theo scrambles back, knocking his back into the driver's door so hard it slams closed and gives him a bruise that fades away in seconds. His—her—heart is still in his rib cage, a pat confirms. 

"Theo! Theo, stop!" Alec drops on his knees opposite of him, clawed hands pulling at the palm Theo hadn't noticed he'd kept pressed over his chest after the initial check. 

The sting of pain is the first thing that hits him. He looks down - his own claws are delved into his flesh, halfway in. Alec has managed to stop him from plunging them all the way in, gripping tightly to hold the hand in place and not worsen the wound. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry." Alec's words come out as hiccups more than anything. 

Alec's alarming panic is the second element to draw him away from the hallucination. 

"I didn't meant to—I'm so sorry." 

Theo withdraws his claws, ignoring the slick sound of them coming free from his skin. Alec flinches, golden eyes growing wider and wilder. Theo covers Alec's hands with his clean one. 

"It's okay." Theo says, hoarse and low. "It's okay." 

He doesn't know who he's trying to convince - Alec or himself. 

They waste precious time to clean their hands and Theo's front with some of the shower gel and a little water over a plastic bowl he can't remember taking from anywhere, to minimize the stench of copper. Theo has left his soiled and ruined shirt to burn next to them, upends the soapy water from their impromptu hand washing sesh onto it to prevent a wildfire and they leave only when they're sure the flames have completely died out.

By the time Theo pulls one of his last sweatshirts on, the lacerations from his claws are nothing more than pink scar tissue, also fading away. The self-inflicted ones last longer on him, like his body knows it has to actually take those and keep them.

Alec sits next to him in the passenger seat. 

"In the back."

"Nope."

Theo drags a damp hand over his eyes and lower half of his face, the rasp of stubble scratching his inner palm. "Alec, get in the damn backseat."

"I'm not a toddler."

"No, just a newly bitten werewolf that can tear my head off if he gets triggered and I can't even fight back properly because I'm driving."

Alec migrates to the backseat shortly after. 

Theo delivers a sarcastic "Thank you." 

It's when soft music fills the space that he realizes what the ploy had been. Their eyes meet in the rear view mirror, green on brown. 

Theo sighs, leaning his he'd back into the seat. "You could have just asked, you know."

"You have an awful lot of love songs." Alec counters with a bit of a playful glint in his eyes.

Theo scoffs, "Not my fault that's what most of the artists sing about." 

The song Alec chose is slow, a man's soft voice relaying his pain wrapped in a melancholic melody. Theo knows it by heart, the name fitting for him and one of his more distinguished problems: anchors.

Which reminds him. 

"You thought about possible anchors?" 

"Can't think of anything strong enough." Alec doesn't inquire what Theo's anchor is, for which Theo is more than a little grateful. And he has a feeling Alec is aware of it. 

The phone buzzes. Then again. And again. 

"It's Liam." it's voiced like a question, bemused. 

Of fucking course Liam chooses this precise moment, when this precise song is playing. Theo's life is one elaborate dark sitcom joke. 

"What does he want?" 

"To know where we're headed, what's going on and how I'm doing."

Theo runs his tongue over his upper teeth, eyes on the road. "Stockton. We'll talk to Alpha Amadio. Tell him whatever you want about your state."

Alec taps it all in, then continues the correspondence by himself. Theo doubts he'll say anything about the little hallucination-induced detour they took. He shakes off the remaining jitters, shuns his emotions away and activates his metaphorical autopilot. He steels himself to what will happen when he steps on the Amadio pack's territory, continues where he left off with the scenarios of how Lucia will greet them.

*

Not with open arms. 

They're surrounded the moment they step on her property a little out of the city's way, nestled in acres of trees and clearings. Theo makes no attempts to fight back, doesn't even snarl when Lucia charges at him with thudding steps. Her heels are near silent in the grass, her long, black dress flowing in the breeze. She's almost like a deity with her features sharp and unforgiving in the twilight, the grooves accentuated from the shadows that stay like they were painted on. The red of her eyes is freshly oxidized blood. A goddess of war, maybe. Or retribution.

Her claws dig and hook into the back of his neck so fast he doesn't have time to take a breath. 

Multiple movies play behind his eyes, in fast succession. He sees Ryan losing his mind piece by piece and feels the terrifying helplessness of his own younger self that realized he isn't even remotely powerful enough to reverse it, much less steer it in any direction. He sees Beacon Hills and all the people he conned, manipulated and had a hand in their near death, and feels his fingers sink into Scott's abdomen. He sees Sebastien, then—

Tara drags him down, into the ground. Into the morgue of the mirror-hospital. 

"Theeeeoooo."

Theo runs, gets his heart ripped out, stares into Tara's glazed lizard eyes. 

Rinse and repeat. 

Fear, denial, terror, bargaining, acceptance. His own fucked up version of the five stages of grief. 

Rinse and repeat. 

"It's okay. You don't have to stop."

Rinse and repeat. 

Then, it's over. And he's—"He's my responsibility."

Waking up in his truck at the feeling of something crawling on his skin, the spider sinking under his flesh and trying to take advantage of his mental weakness to infect and kill him, cutting the thing out only for it to disintegrate in black smoke before his own terrified eyes. Monroe. The zoo, Liam waking up in his car after, 

"I had to knock you out."

Liam grunts, rubbing his jaw with a pinched face. Pissed off, but not really angry. "Yeah, how many times?" 

"Five." Theo grins, genuine, swivels his head to look at him.

The hospital after the fight was done with, the McCall house, the bullet extraction and Theo shifting. Convincing Argent to let him deactivate the operating theaters, to prevent Monroe from creating a mass extermination with an actual bio-weapon. Finding Alec in the abandoned house. The two new murder victims.

And—

Lucia lets go of him; he staggers with a gasp, lands on his back. Alec is by his side in a moment, growling at the Amadio pack members around them, even when they're not inching a foot closer. 

The wolf howls, disoriented and shaking from the plight of remembering in crisp detail, and stumbling from the physical exertion and pain of the memory manipulation.

Theo smacks the back of his hand into Alec's side after two whole seconds of forcing his body to heed his command. "Cut that out." his speech is slurred. "We're on their territory." 

"She almost killed you!" Alec seethes, eyeing Lucia's bloody claws, crimson dripping down in the grass. 

"Memory manipulation. I've had worse." Theo swats his hand away, when he tries to help him sit up. "Calm down."

He catches the exact moment Alec gets to the conclusion that Theo knew this was going to happen all along, makes to swat Theo in return before his flared eyes settle on the blood trickling out of the back of Theo's neck. His arm drops. 

Theo faces Lucia, who, along with the rest of her pack, has been silently observing the scene. "So, will you help us catch that bitch, Alpha Amadio?" 

Lucia tips her chin up to, in the exact meaning of the phrase, look down at him. Alpha to science experiment that falls in the omega category. She regards him with a newfound something Theo can't pinpoint. And it's scarcely there, a suggestion more like, but the corners of her lips pull up just so. 

*

"I had to make sure." Lucia starts, on the trek to her house. It's as close to an apology as he's going to get.

Theo is to her right, a step behind her, with Alec to Theo's right. Their backs are to her pack, twelve of them and that's not even half of the full number of pack members. 

"Can't say I blame you."

"Your car will be safe where it is."

"Good to know."

Alec is giving him the cold shoulder currently, pissed that Theo didn't tip him in on the plan. To his own surprise, a flash of guilt sinks into Theo's middle.

"Have to be honest, I was sure you were involved in Ryan's death." her intonation is back to the calm he remembered of the first week of meeting her, years ago. The one that makes you relax before she swoops in with the claws. "Then Chris Argent of all people calls and tells me you're supposed to pass through here, gave me a brief synopsis and said you'll explain the situation in detail. Forgive the forcefulness. Patience isn't my strongest side." 

There's nothing remorseful in her tone. She saw Theo's sins. Most of them, anyway. He has to be grateful his upper and lower halves are still connected considering she's an alpha who holds treason—especially the backstabbing kind for his own merit, the kind Theo has committed—close to child murder and child abuse in magnitude of unforgivable behavior in her beliefs of pack structure and dynamics. And overall in life.

If Argent was a wolf they'd be besties and gossip about the supernaturals over a wolfsbane-spiked glass of whiskey on the rocks. Then discuss an astute plan of killing whoever has fucked with their family and loved ones to date, directly after that. Or as a pause from the trash-talking. 

Lucia slants him a look or two over her shoulder throughout the duration of their walk, sizing him up and lining every piece of information, old and new, she has of him to better formulate his profile. She's definitely disappointed to a degree, that Theo didn't in fact have anything to do with Ryan's demise, hence her being unable to kill him with a clean-cut excuse. Possibly even disappointed that current Theo is not the same Theo she knew, not even the same Theo pre-hell. Seeing his months of punishment, that would have stayed an eternity had Liam not brought him back, has infinitely thawed her own emotions to progress with the situation in a more clinical approach. 

"You still think too loud, I see." Lucia murmurs when the big house is in sight. Two floors, a big patio, cars lined up along the road leading away, to civilization. 

Alec stops dead in his tracks at the comment. Theo places a hand on his shoulder before he can add anything to insult her and destroy any type of arrangement they could potentially come to. 

"She can't read minds. Stop taking shit so literally." Theo's unfair. Alec has been through too many traumatizing events in the span of less than a few days; his suspicion of every word is entirely founded and above all else, valid. But right now he has to pretend he isn't thinking over every single word and sound and intention.

Alec flashes his eyes at him, teeth bared in a soundless snarl before he lets go of the air in his lungs and nods. The lemony scent gives his front away.

"He smells different." an unknown voice says. Theo can't pin a face to it.

Lucia's next steps are far from light in power, her heels crushing some of the hard soil. "Antonio." 

"Fine, fine. Fuck's sake. Just makin' an observation. You don't gotta be all gloom and doom." 

Seeing their alpha regain her composure and find answers they've all been in need of must have unlocked a steady stream of relief and leisure amongst the ranks. Her not hurting Theo the moment the memory manipulation was done with was indication enough of the newfound intelligence.

Theo isn't guilty. For once. 

The silence is a bit too overbearing, signalling just how little Theo will enjoy this stay. Proved innocence or not, he's still a barely tolerated guest. There's blood seeping out of the puncture marks, into the collar of his shirt, making it wet and nasty and sticky. It'll take him way longer to heal from an alpha with him in such a fatigued and stressed state. 

Once inside the house Lucia fills them two ginormous Halloween mugs of water and gives them chocolate muffins while she heats up supper. Alec devours his only when Theo has had a bite of his own, following his cues regarding the etiquette. 

Her pack is mingling in the house, none of them in their direct vicinity. There's more than five conversations going on and Theo can't put his multitasking skills to use while paying attention to Lucia, Alec and his own foggy mind and body. He puts Argent on speaker on the island Theo and Alec are currently sat at, with Lucia having perched herself on top of the counter in front of them. For someone who dresses like they're Morticia Adams' protégé, only a rock 'n roll version, and has the ability to forge her face into a gargoyle type of cold, she sure has some childish habits.

Theo briefly slants his eyes to the Halloween mugs, rubs his thumb over the protruding image of a grinning pumpkin.

Lucia is the first to speak when Argent picks up. "Argent."

"Alpha Amadio."

Alec takes a breath. Theo kicks his leg, shakes his head when Alec glares at him, mouths 'no'.

"Thank you for your assistance and hospitality. I take it Theo and Alec have clued you in."

"You can say that." Lucia's focused on Theo and his reprimand of Alec, his lack of willingness to let Argent in on what exactly the cluing in part consisted of and chooses to roll with it. "Given the erratic actions of that lunatic hunter, I suggest we inform as many packs as physically possible."

"That was our plan. We'll need all the help we can get to catch Monroe and end this war with the least amount of bloodshed."

"I'll call a meeting, then, notify of the severity of the threat. It would be best if the alpha of Beacon Hills is present for the debriefing. They'll want to hear it first hand."

Argent pauses, sighs. "Noted. I'll round up loyal hunter clans, but the ones I trust with the situation aren't that many. I can't confirm who is with us and who is against us."

Alec watches with rapt interest, the first display of raw dynamics of the supernatural world's order. As of yet, he has no idea just how involved he'll have to get with the circumstances at hand. Monroe has started a war on such a profound scale it'll be a melee at the end. Differences or not, this particular case requires team effort, an unpalatable reality they're forced to accept, supernaturals and hunters alike. There's order in this world of mysticism, one the Doctors avoided with their cunning and self-developed cheat sheet.

Monroe, however? She's just an arrogant monster wearing a human meatsuit who was bestowed with a key to a master library of information, by Gerard. You can know every theory to the last word and still fuck up the execution of the act, brazen or not. It's when she realizes it that things will get out of hand, when they'll have to think fast before she acts out her last hurrah. 

The conversation ends soon after and the looming events make Theo's skin prickle.

"I doubt you came here just to inform me what has happened, Theo."

Theo bumps his shoulder into Alec's, in reassurance when Alec grasps the heavy atmosphere. He meets Lucia's brown eyes, now a calculative burgundy, though not in display of her status or to frighten. 

"Gerard knew of the Doctors. If he had an inkling to even one operating theater, he would have told her. I need to remember the rest of their whereabouts. All of them. And I need your help for that." 

Comprehension flickers over Lucia's face, closely followed by mild shock she stocks away quickly. "You do know it won't be pleasant, right?"

Theo's smile is joyless. "I don't think that matters right now."

*

The first attempt goes poorly in the way thay they don't warn Alec in full detail of what to expect. What he'd witnessed an hour ago is a milder version of what Theo goes through the second time. 

The thing about memory manipulation is that the more prolonged the exposure is, the more it hurts. It's the mind's way to try and protect the host in the most backhanded way, make it try and fight back, a subconscious action they can't stop. What others have described it as, is like the very denouement of wolfsbane poisoning. It all stems from the brain, an encompassing agony spreading to every neuron in your body, all of them aflame with no outward tell of it—apart from screams that is—which doesn't really help with a diagnosis of the full extent of damage. Taking it away entirely is close to impossible because it's a psychosomatic response. Only when the brain is at peace, no longer presuming there's an active threat, will it null the pain. Before that happens? Ha, not a field trip. 

Alec's freakout forces a few of Lucia's pack members to intervene and subdue him. Theo, from his collapsed state in the heavy duty chair Lucia had made him sit on in the middle of the living room, reaches out to tap his forearm. Alec takes hold of his arm, seeks out his gaze. 

"It's gonna get worse." Theo confesses, panting. "But it's not against my will. Remember that, okay? It's necessary."

Alec's fingers dig into his skin. "Can't she just hypnotize you or something?" 

"It's not the same. And it's too much information. We don't have time."

The Doctors have been in existence for more than two centuries. That adds up to a lot of bases for them to work in. They've switched up through eight just during the decade Theo was with them. 

"Alec, listen to me. Don't interfere. Go outside if it gets too much, but do not interfere."

Lucia crouches in front of Alec, eyes red. "If it goes beyond what he can take, I'll stop. But if you try to stop me while we're in position with my claws in his spine, it will end badly for Theo."

With another five minutes of explanations and with Alec now sat on the couch between Lucia's first and second betas as a fail-safe, they continue. 

By attempt four Theo has mentally pinged all the labs he's remembered, a whopping twenty-four, without taking the initial eight into count. Jesus, they're so fucked if Monroe finds out about this.

It's motivation enough for Theo to try a fifth endeavor. 

But this time around when he comes to it's on the floor with Alec on one side and Lucia on his other. Her mouth is a straight line, with thick, black veins spreading up from both her arms—a hand on the back of Theo's neck, the other on his left arm—all the way to her throat. The agony prevails regardless.

"Fucking hell, kid. What did they do to you?" the words resonate with her growl, the shift too close to the surface with the amount of pain she's pulling. 

And it's still not enough. Theo's insides are on fire and only when he focuses on the high ceiling does he feel the folded leather belt between his teeth, there to keep him from shattering them. His fangs have already pierced through the stacked layers. His claws are lodged into the meat of his palms, creating little puddles of blood on the dark carpet, throat raw like he's been screaming his lungs out.

Theaters uncovered by fifth session: thirty-eight. Total known theaters: forty-six. Theaters neutralized: one. 

Theo has a lot of destruction waiting for him.

*

Lucia slams her glass of spiked bourbon on the kitchen island. "That is not happening again." her arms splay wide as she braces her hands on the cool marble. 

"We have to see if there's—"

"Oh, no. We don't have to see anything. You, on the other fucking hand, have to shut your mouth and eat your food." 

Theo's teeth click together. She's within all her right. Theo had known she'll refuse another attempt when he saw how her expression contorted upon suggesting a sixth session. Or, technically a seventh; he doesn't count the first one on the outskirts of Lucia's property. Then he'd heard Alec's high sound of distress and the dangerously shallow breathing signalling his impending panic attack. Even the members of Lucia's pack weren't left unaffected, horrified by the quantity Theo had taken silently before it'd bled out to the surface. Every time either one of them stumbles upon their alpha and her visitors they're appraising to a pestering degree. No amount of subterfuge will get him out of the screaming match Lucia and Alec will start the second Theo can stand on his own.

"God almighty, Argent warned me about you but he failed to indicate your suicidal and masochistic inclinations."

"It can't all be hedonism in life." his joke is funny to nobody. 

Apparently, Lucia had given Argent a heads up that Theo and Alec will stay a minimum of two days with her, then hung up on him before he could even say a thing. Theo's phone is currently handled by Alec, who is furiously texting at lightning speed with Argent, while also managing salient scowls aimed Theo's way. 

Theo's neck is going to take a lot while to heal.

Six times. He's had a memory manipulation procedure done to him six times. The gauze covering the overwhelming amount of claw marks irritates him to no end, but the sole instance he went to rip it off Alec had growled a bit too seriously for his liking. The pain has yet to subside, as well as the blistering migraine overtaking the right side of his face. 

He predicts anywhere between three to four days for his healing to take care of it. Chimeras don't take alpha-inflicted wounds too well, particularly when it's 24 extremely deep lacerations, the first four of which are the worst. He'd felt the sharp tips of her claws in his goddamn spinal cord, then. 

He's proved right when the next day there's scantily an improvement. The first beta, the legendary would-be ghost whisperer Monica Patton herself, clicks her tongue when she reapplies the healing ointment under Alec and Lucia's watchful eyes. All Theo can think about, though, is that Alec's simmering fury reminds him of Liam's. They even have similar tells, the primal in them dictating their unwitting behavior. 

Theo spends most of his first day, after another night of inadequate amount of sleep, compiling the whereabouts of the operating theaters in order of importance. The ones with the most ingredients and stray chemicals are top priority. Lucia even throws him a map to scribble on and markers and pens to make notes with. 

On day two he texts back and forth with Argent, the Sheriff and, surprisingly, Agent McCall for twenty minutes before the Sheriff throws his proverbial hat and makes them do it over the phone like sensible adults, people, phones exist for a reason and my hands aren't fit for hitting small letters on a bright screen. That call lasts nearly two hours. 

Long enough for Alec to listen in the first half hour, gather the courage to speak. Theo letting him turns out to be a mistake. 

"I can ask Lucia to try again. The circumstances are dire enough that she might relent."

Alec snuffles. "Doubt that very much." Theo shoots him a warning look, as scalding as he can force it to be. Not that it works. "She said she's not doing it a seventh time. If you want, we can go and ask her. Right now. Bet she'll tear your head off."

Alec's arms are crossed, daring, the gold of his eyes like lanterns in the darkness of the night that has just descended. He's shown his true colors the past day, now that he has more control of the shift and none of them are in direct danger. He'd even conceded to helping Lucia along with two of her wolves to make lunch, without Theo needing to nudge him.

"Six times?" Argent fails to hide how stunned he is, the only one who knows of the consequences. "Theo—"

"I'm fine. I'm walking and talking. And Alec is not going to interfere with the conversation further." Theo flares his irises, points at the door. Alec thunders out. 

Theo doesn't let Argent make a big deal out of it, steers the analysis towards the actual maniac they're hunting down. It takes another hour before Theo gets off the phone and by that time Alec had come back, thrown himself in the other bed and had fallen asleep. Lucia didn't even bother to separate them.

Alec still doesn't know that they leave tomorrow. The upcoming morning will be all types of fun.

Theo takes a shower, soaks up under the stream and pays no mind to the throbbing of the wounds. It's his last blissful moment under an actual spray for a while. If Argent is on board with Theo actively setting out to deactivate theaters it might be sooner rather than later, but it's one thing being in a motel shower and another to be in a shower of a well-cared for home. 

When he can't fall asleep he makes do with counting ceiling imperfections. That is, until his phone lights up from where he'd left it on his chest. 

From: Liam

> when are you two coming back

> scott's worried

> did u get killed or smth

Liam knows damn well he's alive, he'd interrupted the phone call between Theo, Derek, Argent and Lucia this morning. 

To: Liam

< Tomorrow

< How's the anchor hunt going?

The three dots signalling Liam is answering him appear and disappear multiple times. It takes five minutes for two clipped words. 

From: Liam

> not good…

The forced distance between them has done a marvelous job of nothing to keep Theo's mind away from him. One way or another, Liam slips uninvited into his mind, creeping along the edges and lurking. Theo has his scent memorized to the point where he can conjure it at will. Maybe it's a good thing Alec's has replaced the presence of it in the truck, with but a few places left that hold onto it. Namely the passenger seat. 

To: Liam

< And exactly how actively are you searching?

Liam's name takes over the screen. Theo almost hits the green button, glances at Alec's lax form in the bed next to his, and declines the call. 

To: Liam

< Can't talk

< Alec's asleep

From: Liam

> then go out of the room

> or you don't trust the Amadio pack?

To: Liam

< He's been a werewolf for less than a week. His control is as stable as a boat in a sea storm

<Last thing I need is him wolfing out if he wakes up and I'm gone

From: Liam

> you're in a house full of werewolves, they'll manage for a few minutes

> i take it you're not leaving him with them

> scott's been kinda giddy with the prospect of a new pack member

> i mean if Alec wants to join

To: Liam

< I don't think Alec is overly fond of the idea of staying with Lucia

From: Liam

> can u talk for like a minute? 

> i promise it won't take long

Theo looks out the window. They're on the first floor in a guest bedroom, since the majority of the Amadio pack's rooms are upstairs. He's quiet and agile when he slips out. Christ, like a dog answering to its master. It's worse than pathetic. It should be humiliating, just how readily compliant he is.

Theo sits in the grass, in the middle of the open field in front of the house. He's visible with the help of the half full moon, can be seen with a peek out of either window facing the open space around him. But he has a semblance of privacy with the distance between him and them if somebody is listening in. Mainly Lucia. She's the only one awake, up and about in the kitchen and baking a new batch of muffins. Her second beta left her in her element after demanding a batch of coconut muffins, and went to bed a mere twenty minutes ago.

Liam picks up on the second ring. 

"You could have just told me you'll call instead of ghosting me."

"Stop bitching and start talking." 

"Why doesn't Alec want to stay with them?"

Right for the throat. Not only that, his tone is composed, steady. Theo's lack of proper mental clarity has back stabbed him - Liam wanted the call to hear Theo and evaluate him. 

Theo hasn't survived this long with no abilities to deflect.

"That's shit I'm not explaining over the phone, Liam."

Liam loses his easy air. "Argent looked like he'd seen an apparition or something. He didn't want to tell Scott anything and apparently he didn't elaborate on the matter, so the Sheriff and Scott's dad don't know either." he's whisper yelling by the middle of it, the last word squeaky. 

"And like I said, I'm not opening the topic over the phone. Listen, we're gonna be back tomorrow. It's not life and death."

"Not life and—then what happened, huh? Why are you so evasive if it's not that important?"

Theo worries his lower lip, watches the moon and surrounding stars, leans back on his free arm. "We had to do a memory manipulation on me."

He counts down the seconds it will take for Liam to place the term with what Theo did to Lydia. 

"What?" he doesn't expect how winded Liam is. Theo must have left a big wound with that one. Then again, having one of your pack in that catatonic state, then seeing a hole drilled into their head inflicts more than a mark. "Who? Why?"

"To find out where the rest of the theaters are."

Liam's choppy breathing is the sole marker Theo can tap into to construct his assessment.

Liam sounds like he's far away, like he's connecting dots of his own design when he tells Theo, "You know, I kinda wondered how you managed to remember an additional thirty-six theaters out of the blue. When Argent told us. Thought it was a trigger from visiting the one you destroyed."

What is he so dismayed about? Sure, the numbers are worrisome, except Theo can work fast when needed. He's dealt with functioning on little sleep for months now, nothing like doing it all over again. He's not useless. He can take care of the high count.

The conversation wilts away after that. Lucia shows up almost as soon as he ends the connection, sits next to him in the grass in yet another long, black dress, sans the heels this time. She places a platter of muffins between them - chocolate, vanilla and coconut. 

His wolf and coyote are oddly at ease with the presence. Maybe even a tiny bit calm, regardless of the pain she'd caused and the weird feeling she'd left behind in both animals after all of the procedures were done. It's a confusing state, he chooses to ignore the shit out of it.

They don't talk, just munch on the muffins and trace constellations with their eyes, from their place as small specks of dust on a floating rock. The wind picks up maybe an hour in, making Lucia's dress flow like a lacy, flower-patterned funeral drape. She doesn't mention it in the morning when they leave, but she does clap his shoulder, her hand heavy and hot and not unwelcome. 

"Don't go raising havoc when you've just turned a new leaf, Theo." are her parting words.

What Theo later finds out is that, be it due to his stuffy consciousness or not, he'd direly misread Liam's mood last night. He's one of the people at the McCall's front door when Theo parks the truck in front of the house, along with Scott, Argent and Derek. The rest are all inside, with two new additions Theo labels as Peter and Deaton. 

Liam is rigid, stony-faced, with a hand braced on the door frame. It's when he registers that Alec is with Theo, something he might have forgotten for a split second, does he blink and make himself shake out the layered stress so as to not freak Alec out further.

Regardless, Alec is returning to his initial mode of hyper-vigilance from the first moments of his waking after Theo had purged the wolfsbane out of his system. During the four days of their cohabitation Theo attuned himself to the tiniest of tells, has been pondering how to acclimate Alec to a boisterous pack, consisting predominantly of loud teenagers. He'd done his best to explain any detail of import to him while driving here, to ready him.

"Hey." he taps Alec's shoulder with the back of his hand. "They won't bite. It's okay. You're safer with them than you were with me anyway." 

Alec, with his eyes the size of saucers, briefly catches Theo's. All Theo can currently smell is lemons, lots and lots and lots of bitter lemons. The front door is now vacated and left open for them. Derek has corralled the rest to step back, giving Theo and Alec the opportunity to be the ones to dictate the pace of the inevitable disaster. 

"I smell blood." Theo hears Scott from inside the house. 

"Theo's." Liam confirms grimly, like he's been expecting it.

They have to stop two times for Theo to calm Alec down. His canine side must be going insane, with all the new smells of werewolves that aren't pack and going through this process for the second time in three days at that. For whatever reason it wasn't as bad at Lucia's. Possibly due to her poise and the overall equilibrium of her pack. The McCall pack on the other hand is new, fresh and unseasoned meat, having just formed a wooden structure, and is not at all like the Amadio pack's steel of stability, all things Alec's wolf gathers as input. Hence the wariness.

When they finally enter the house Alec's skin erupts into goosebumps. The pressure of the atmosphere is palpable, overlaying every surface of the house. His shift slips as Theo closes the door. Theo catches him with one palm on each bicep when Alec stumbles back into him, back bumping into Theo's chest for a brief moment before he lurches away. 

"Why don't you sit down." Theo mumbles as he applies a little pressure on his shoulders. Alec does so momentarily, mechanically, crosses his legs and hunches in on himself. 

Theo hands him the protein bar he'd jammed in the pocket of his jacket specifically for this reason. Alec puts faces to the names as evident by his wandering eyes. Theo described all of them to him, in enough detail that Alec has no trouble discerning one from the other.

Stiles and Lydia are on the couch, Corey and Mason next to them. Argent is against the wall closest to the kitchen, with Derek, Deaton, the Sheriff and Parrish in his near vicinity. Peter is to their left. Scott, Melissa and Malia are almost in the space of the kitchen, Scott having just straightened from his previous position with his elbows braced on the couch. Which leaves Liam, who is next to the three of them and the sole person whose eyes Theo feels like a physical pull, beckoning him, unbeknownst to Liam himself. 

Alec finally settles on Scott. 

"Um. Do I have to address you as Alpha McCall like Theo did with Alpha Amadio?" 

Scott blinks, glitches with his mouth partially opened, expressing an amusing fusion of constipated and alarmed. He looks over to Theo for help, who ticks up a pointedly sardonic brow.

Scott shakes his head, hurries to answer. "Just Scott is good." he smiles, the sentence tumbling out awkwardly.

Here, everybody's gaze falls on Theo. Argent, Derek, the Sheriff and Parrish are the group Theo addresses. 

"Any news regarding the hunter clans?" he's muted his chemo signals, strategically sat where the taped gauze is not quite as visible. 

Liam throws his arms in the air in exasperation. It's a chain reaction after that: Alec jumps, loses his balance and when he flails an arm to catch himself a claw accidentally nicks Theo's neck in the process, where throat meets shoulder, causing Theo to visibly flinch. One of the puncture wounds peeking out of the gauze screams out its protest at the near dead-on contact. 

Alec's hands fly to the lower part of his face, stop a little before the claws can connect with his skin. "I'm so sorry!" he makes to reach out to Theo, aborts that motion as well and firmly slaps his palms on his crossed shins, shoulders curved in. 

The already tense atmosphere morphs in thickness, this close to solidifying. 

Theo lightly smacks the back of his hand to Alec's arm, hoping that the gesture, by now familiar and a habit of comfort, will help. "Ease up. It's fine." that cut at least heals fast in comparison to the alpha-inflicted claw marks.

Alec's jaw works, golden eyes narrow when he purposely, slowly, flashes them to the gauze and back to Theo's with unconcealed ire. 

"Theo?" Scott has leaned forward but hasn't taken a step in their direction. They've all kept their place, unnaturally still. 

"Fine." 

Theo takes his phone out, goes to the music library and taps the first song that comes up in the playlist Alec made while on the way here. He leaves it on the floor, on the lowest volume. The humans might not even be able to hear it, it still does its designated magic trick. Alec takes a deep breath, jaw loosening as he recognizes the implication. He fixates on a point in the middle of the living room. Eyes, fangs, claws. It's the order they've worked up to. 

When Alec's lupine features are out of sight Deaton breaks the silence. 

"Theo." he taps the first aid kit held in one hand. It's a suggestion, however a thinly veiled one. 

Theo slants Argent a look, in search for confirmation that no, he won't be shot in the head for nearing Deaton, receives a nod.

Peter, from where he's leaning on a wall near the couch, looks between Theo and Deaton, then at Argent, brows shooting up. "My, my." he makes no further explanation, waves a hand in a by-all-means manner when Theo focuses on him.

"What?" Malia demands, already having advanced towards Peter. She freezes mid taking another step but Alec's eyes are roaming the room, the thumb of his right hand drumming in tune with the song. His heart leaping gives him away, though he's doing everything in his power to stay nonchalant. 

Theo turns to Deaton. "Better get it over with, huh?" 

Deaton nods his assent, wanders to the visible part of the kitchen table and pulls out one of the chairs. Alec will still have sight of him from that angle. 

Theo gets to his feet, taps Alec's shoulder when Alec's head snaps up, to keep him seated where he is. He's been dreading the examination of the puncture marks since they'd gotten on the road. He wants all the drama to be done with, give it no time to fester and unlock the skittish part of the coyote that will make his choice for him. 

Liam's pulse jumpstarts when Theo passes by him. He's not even subtle with the overly deep breath he takes to scent Theo up close. Having moved near, Liam is situated almost directly behind him when Theo sits on the chair Deaton pulled out for him. 

Theo twines his fingers together on the table, keeps them visible to all the people with guns at their disposal, eases up his tightly corded shoulders. Deaton leaves him to go through his winding down process, arranging his supplies in a neat line to Theo's right for better access. It's mostly benign herbs, gauze and surgical tape. He's still uncomfortable with leaving his neck vulnerable to the man. One twist and he's dead.

"Fine my ass." Alec mutters under his breath, but loud enough to carry to every person's ears. He gives Theo the same treatment Theo had given Scott with the single lifted brow when Theo flares his eyes in a warning, gold there and gone again in a flash.

Theo's lids drop as Deaton starts peeling the gauze away. His heart flutters at the piercing ache and the renewed throb now that his attention is on the injury. 

Multiple gasps echo, a cacophony of irregular heartbeats sound like drums in his ears, speeding up with every passing second. 

"Jesus." Melissa whispers in a stricken exhale.

A compelling stench of unease swirls. More dominant is the rising tartness of rage. Being so unhealthy in tune with Liam equals to Theo reacting to that signal more than the anxiety and dismay.

"She didn't force me, Liam. Pipe the fuck down." Theo grits out, manages to bite his tongue for his effort when Deaton sets to inspect the wounds. 

"She did reject any other attempts, if that helps." Alec pipes in. It's more a jibe at Theo, something he's used to by now.

"And I thought my nephew is the one with hardcore self-destructive tendencies. I stand corrected."

"Not helping the matter." Deaton cuts him off calmly and, blessedly, Peter doesn't continue his witty monologue. "Theo, do you feel like there's any nerve damage?"

There's a squeak of sneakers on the wooden floor, Scott pulling Liam away a few steps, and shushing from Lydia and Mason. 

"No. She was careful."

"Uh-huh." Deaton turns to Alec at this. That fucking kid. "She was careful after the first time."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Liam's slight lisp tells Theo his fangs are out and about. Along with the carrying reverberation of a growl in his intonation. 

"She used the memory manipulation on him when they stepped on her property. Didn't she?" Argent has taken the few steps needed to enter the kitchen and lean his back on the wall separating the space from the living room area, to observe Theo. "That's how you clued her in?" he quotes, unamused. Theo had expected at least some form of glee from him, not this, whatever it is.

Theo shrugs. "I didn't have another way of proving my lack of involvement with Ryan's death."

"Oh, but she didn't force you, right?" Liam snarls. Scott yanks him further away with a scandalized Liam!

Theo pointedly remains silent at the remark and addresses Deaton with a glance over his shoulder. "The only time she pierced the spinal cord was the first session."

Deaton doesn't waver. "How deep?"

"Just the tips, no more than a third of her claws." and Theo faces the table again, lids dropping once more. 

He grimaces at the following clinical touch, wills his body to relax. 

Then, as though she whispers it in his ear, "Theeeeoooo."

His heart seizes, stops. Opening his eyes he already knows what he'll see. 

She's at the sink with her head tilted at an unnatural angle, grimy water dripping down her dark strands and onto the clean kitchen floor. A puddle forms around her feet, getting wider and wider. A heart materializes in her torn chest cavity, the severed arteries knitting back together, connecting it to the rest of her insides. It takes him a little to catch onto the fact that it's beating as erratically as his own is. 

His? It's her heart. It's her heart in his—

Alec startles Theo out of it when he throws himself on the chair to his right, mindful of Deaton's arranged supplies there, and holds out Theo's phone between his index and middle fingers. 

"Pick me a song. I can't decide." his voice is soft and muted, timid almost. He's had to wade through the entire pack to get here, swallow down his impulse to remain as invisible—when permitted by his brain-to-mouth filter—as he physically can. And still chose to do it either way.

A fleeting peek at the sink. Tara is gone. 

Theo takes his phone, meets Alec's gaze and tips his chin down minutely. A voiceless thanks. 

There's no comments on his abrupt panicked state where he'd been prepared for a verbal pinch, and he's more than a little grateful.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing too sad. Or too happy. Or too sugary, though ninety percent of the songs in there are melancholic as shit, so I doubt you'll have a problem with the last two." 

Theo steps on his foot under the table, scrolls through his music library whilst ignoring Alec's yelp. Deaton starts applying the healing ointment on him with steady fingers. 

The longer the quiet prevails, the more Theo is at risk of losing hold of his chemo signals. Only Liam's breaths are loud, an edge of lupine rumble to them. He's still trying to calm down. 

Theo blinks. 

The wolf whines, the keening sound growing higher and higher in his mind. It wants to protect. That's how it hits him.

He is anxious because Liam is anxious. 

With that thought in mind, Theo pictures himself building a wall of energy, like a mountain ash barrier, blue and sizzling, until the subconscious part of him is separated from outside factors like smell, sight and sound. And Liam. 

He's closed his eyes at some point, the edge of his phone propped on his chin. He'd also picked a song while assembling himself in full order, hadn't noticed it playing until he turns on all senses again, one by one. 

And, well, Theo calming himself has calmed Liam down, too. 

Fucking shit, he's had it. 

Deaton finishing with taping the fresh gauze is when Theo shifts his head, degree by degree. Blue on green. Theo's features are impassive. He can't say the same for Liam. No wolfy senses are needed to smell the guilt on him, with his chin dipped down almost to his chest and his brows worriedly scrunched together in that puppy expression of his. 

No wolfy senses are also needed to catch the point when Liam realizes: Theo knows who Liam's anchor is, why he'd insisted on Liam finding a new one. It dawns on Liam in increments and it's quite possible he doesn't freak out because Theo's everything is composed currently. 

The rest seem to understand the importance of this exchange. Even Peter, Stiles and Malia don't try to interrupt.

Liam's head ducks down further, severing the eye contact. 

"This is the best I can do. You'll have to wait out a few more days for them to heal entirely." Deaton starts packing his herbs and supplies. 

"Guess the deeper ones will need longer?"

"Yes. I should say, though, there will be some tingling in the regeneration process." 

"Thanks." Theo peers up at Deaton when he says it. Any other person might even clap his forearm, shake it in gratitude, but Theo is Theo. He doubts Deaton will appreciate the touch of an unpredictable killer. 

He's lucky he got an actual examination from a professional in the first place. Druid he is, but he's also extremely loyal to Scott, and his pack by default. Helping patch up the guy who almost destroyed them and temporarily killed Scott must have required some strong, iron will on Deaton's side.

Deaton nods, contemplative and assessing, adds nothing else. 

Alec bumps their knees. "So, you were completely fine, right?" 

Stiles cackles at the same time Malia snorts.

Peter taps the heel of his boot to the floor. "I like the kid."

"Of course you do." Derek's exasperation is identical to Lydia and the Sheriff's, both heaving out simultaneous sighs.

"Uh, I hate to be the one to do this, but: are you sure those are all the theaters?" Parrish does look sorry and awkward for it, arms crossed but his words delivered with a wince. 

And the heavy quality of the air is back. 

"No."

Scott hurries over, takes the seat at Theo's left. "You're not doing that again, Theo." he's adorned his own version of the puppy face, all concerned big eyes and scrunched brows, too startled by the state Theo is in to think rationally and practically. 

Theo pulls at the hood of his sweatshirt to rearrange it until the majority of his neck, especially the back of it, isn't on display anymore. God, he'd felt fucking naked with it bared like that. 

"You do realize that we need the total amount, right? Or it's moot point."

"Moot point? She almost ripped your spine out!" 

Theo closes his eyes, twists his head and hisses between clenched teeth, "Alec."  

"He's right. It's not worth the risk." Lydia declares. She's still next to Stiles on the couch, one leg over the other with her hands clasped together over her knee. When Theo gives her a dubious look—because what the fuck, Lydia?—she adds snappishly, "You're the only one who knows. It's useless knowledge if you're permanently dead." 

Under the guarded calm exterior there's a considering part of her. She's affected by reliving her trauma and seeing the result of the violation being inflicted on the culprit himself, to a much more painful and agonizing degree. 

"If you have a better idea, I'm all ears. Lucia managed to enter and stir memories I don't ever recall having. If you know something that can work in the same proportion, efficiency and strength, do tell." his exhaustion from the past few days, hell, past few weeks, diminishes any sharpness. 

Theo eyes Peter. If anybody knows it will be him. Or Deaton. Peter is uncharacteristically lacking a smirk, his sagacious and cold blue eyes taking Theo in a new light. 

"What about the cooling chambers?" Malia asks, aimed at Lydia. 

Lydia's hands grip her knee tighter. "It gives us two minutes tops. And that was with you and Scott being full werewolf and werecoyote. He's a chimera."

Theo leans back in his chair, crosses his arms. "Cooling chambers? So cold temp to induce a trance? How cold, exactly?" 

"Very." Scott answers. He's not on board the idea. 

"Freezing to death is a bit more reversible than a ripped spine." Alec mumbles, scrolling through Theo's phone.

Theo grabs the phone from him with his not-human speed, points a finger at him with the same hand. "Keep on pulling that shit and I'm revoking all your music rights to my phone." 

Alec lifts his hands in mock surrender. "Well, excuse me for stating facts, Mister Factual."

"Oh my God, he's like a mini version of Theo. Less murderous. Did you brainwash him?" Stiles is twirling a pen, drops it, goes to retrieve it and somehow manages to kick it under the couch. 

Melissa claps her palms to get their attention. "Okay, how about we think about what we're having for dinner and then we continue this fruitless conversation."

As is on cue, upon being reminded of bodily needs, multiple people's stomachs rumble. And that's that. They disintegrate into smaller groups to argue who wants what and which toppings are prohibited from making an appearance, ever. 

Only Scott, Liam and Alec stay with Theo. Liam is finally out of the danger zone, lurking behind Theo, then switches to stand next to him and Alec, still fidgety and guilty. 

"We're not usually this intense, I promise." Scott starts, to lighten the mood. "It's just…"

"Monroe." Alec supplies in understanding, pulling at the sleeves of his shirt to cover his hands with them. "Yeah, Theo told me."

Scott's expression blanks for a brief moment, then he gazes at Theo from under his brow, seems to find whatever he's looking for on Theo's face and body signals, because he focuses on Alec again and gives him a smile, weak but genuine. 

"We'll catch her." it's not just him saying it, it's Scott promising it. Alec is a bit on the skeptical side on that one, and still, he smiles back. "And if you want to help us, that's okay. If you don't - that's also okay. You can stay with us if you want, for as long as you want. We won't make you, though. It's your choice, okay? Remember that."

Alec's breath stutters, eyes searching Theo's through sheer habit alone. Theo quirks his lips. This, right here, is the winning point. Alec has probably had way more people telling him what to do, robbing him of his autonomy the same way his own body had, than giving him a choice, especially for something this important. It must feel like a hit with a stun baton to him. 

This kid is gonna be in for the long haul, Theo just knows it. If Scott is making such an impact from the very start, Alec isn't going anywhere. He might be a little jinxed, from now on, with Beacon Hills' curse, but there's no pack more loyal than the McCall's.

Notes:

So, I did have songs in mind for some of the scenes that involved music and I kinda broke the fourth wall with them because two appear in the show, but, hey, they fit my writing muse. Here they are in order:

*Amber run - I Found- Theo uses sound to help Alec learn to retract and pop out his claws at will.
*Novo Amor - Anchor (Ed Tullett Remix) - Theo asks Alec if he's thought of an anchor and Liam texts him at that very moment
*Echosmith - Over My Head - when Theo and Alec have entered the McCall house Theo puts on the song to help Alec manage his shift
*The Neighbourhood - Softcore - Alec snaps Theo out of his hallucination, under the pretence that he wants Theo to choose a song

And if you want to scream about Thiam with me, pls don't hesitate to do so on my tumblr.

Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated!

Chapter 4: Just take care of me, I'll let you take the lead

Notes:

Once again, I'm sorry for the delayed update but life has been Hectic™ af - got a new job and the entire process was hyper stressful, plus this chapter didn't write as smoothly. BUT, as a compensation it's 20k.

I want to wholeheartedly thank you for the kudos and all of you kind folks in the comments - you get a deluxe virtual hug, you're the ones who keep me writing. Otherwise I would have abandoned this thing, probably.

Also, I don't think one more chapter will be sufficient, so some of you might have noticed that I upped the chapters. This baby is gonna be a little longer than expected haha. I just had to set the foundation for the plot before I could finally start focusing entirely on the Thiam aspect of the fic, as you will see here, and go wild with the UST + the moments where they build up their relationship and trust.

There's some explicit stuff, near the end, but I hate to say it - it's mostly just Theo's extremely vivid fantasies that blew (HA!) out of proportion. Guy has a lot of pent up sexual frustration, can't say I blame him. We will get to the actual sexy parts, fret not!

Title of the chapter is from Khalid - Suncity ft. Empress Of

Hope you enjoy!

Dinner goes without a hitch, which should have clued Theo in, in the first place. 

Theo and Alec eat at the table, where they'd initially sat. They exchange the phone back and forth, deleting previous words and putting in new ones in the Notes app. Alec doesn't know if telling them he used to be deaf is relevant, is entirely reluctant to share it with people he barely knows. Theo counters that he barely knows him as well, that he's actively communicating with and using the murder of the bunch as a crutch. 

'I gotta go pick something from the truck. You okay being alone with them for a minute?’

Alec reads the sentences, brows pulling together. He doesn't glance at Theo, fingers hesitating whilst supplying his answer. Liam tries to peek, catches Theo's eye and his mouth opens, caught and guilty for the second time today. He looks away, turns in his chair to give most of his back to Alec while finishing off his slice of pizza.

Alec hands him the phone, just a simple okay on the screen. Christ, the kid thinks he's gonna bail on him if Theo has to go by his forced lax demeanor.

Theo sits up. "Argent, I've got something for you in the truck." 

All the conversations cease, Argent being the last to look at him. Theo purses his lips, raises both arms to flop them back against the sides of his outer thighs and jerk his head. 

"Well?" 

Lydia puts a hand over Stiles' mouth just as he starts talking, his speech now a distorted muffle that changes from sarcastic to dramatically offended. 

Nobody stands on watch at the window. Stiles suggests it, though, along with Malia. 

Argent's face is priceless when he sees bottles upon bottles of rare wolfsbane strains Theo had taken from the now demolished theater. Some of them are shriveled up, dried up to be preserved but still with their deadly qualities in check. 

"If she does manage to find a theater before we've neutralised them it's better we possess as many strains on our hands, to at least stand a chance of combating being shot with something as rare as this." 

Argent is still in his state of shock, managing to shutter his face and scent just so, but not well enough to hide the still present surprise. 

"A fail-safe." he mutters, gripping one of the bottles in his palm. Here, he faces Theo, with the same considering aura he'd had when Theo told him to pull his gun on him during the last of the bullet extraction. 

*

Theo is faced with yet another dilemma when it comes to Alec’s new living arrangement. 

“I can’t take him with me. I barely fit, much less a newly turned werewolf who’ll need space instead of being cooped up.” he's repeated four variations of this in the past half an hour already. It's like they don't even fucking hear him.

He'd also been right - four days were enough for him, for his wolf and his coyote, to metaphorically foster Alec and form a bond he's not quite shared with another person. He's not a friend, not a partner in crime, not a brother, not even somebody who sparks Theo's carnal interest. But he's something. And that something is enough to make reluctance trickle in his system, at the very thought of leaving him alone with either one of Scott's pack. 

It's irrationality wrapped in whatever illusion has formed over the span of a few days. The kid has no future with Theo. He'll only be shunned, more so than he's probably already been prior to his werewolf status. Whatever protective instincts have awakened in Theo, they grow quiet at that very telling fact. If Theo cares, genuinely cares, then he has to make sure Alec is in a place where he can heal, grow and adapt, not where he'll have to run and become more paranoid. 

Scott has already offered the spare room at his house, Melissa backing him up on it, but Alec has locked himself up. He's growing further and further unresponsive to Scott's pack, has been staring through the carpet for nearly ten minutes now. 

Theo takes out his headphones, having correctly assumed Alec might need them in the near future when he was with Argent at his truck. It could overwhelm him, though Theo has a very good idea of how that type of overload will be preferred to this conversation. 

Alec reacts the moment Theo dips his fingers in the jacket pocket to retrieve them, stopping Scott in the middle of his sentence with how obviously Alec hasn't heard a single word of it. 

"Go calm down. I'll give you a synopsis later." Theo extends the hand holding the headphones, palm up. Alec glances back and forth between them and Theo's face, reluctant. "We're not gonna decide for you. It's your choice. But they're holding back because of you and you're closing up because of them. Best you can do is take a breather and arrange your thoughts."

Multiple simultaneous intakes of breath, some startled, some in lieu of holding back pissed off comments for Theo's lack of tact. What the latter don't know is that Alec responds better to being told shit outright, not the willy-nilly approach they've applied. 

Alec takes the headphones and rearranges himself to lie down on the carpet, previously sitting on it next to Theo. Theo waits for him to type out what he'd planned on saying, then chickened out of doing with all pairs of eyes on them.  

'You can tell them about me being deaf prior, if it's gonna help them understand'

Theo hands his phone over to him, chin tipping down to confirm he's understood, and he stands. Alec goes through his self-made playlist, puts the headphones in and hits play on a song, eyes closing. He winces at first, before his expression settles.

Theo then leads the rest to the kitchen area, to forge a physical space between them and Alec. 

"What's going on?" Scott asks, the one filled with most worry. He's unused to people being utterly unaffected by his naturally welcoming presence.

Theo runs a hand over his face, leans his lower back on the counter next to the sink. "He's too overwhelmed. Everything has changed for him, is out of his control for the time being, which worsens it."

"Yeah, but that's not all." Mason cuts in, next to Corey, who is close to Liam. Who is to Theo's right. 

Alec has turned up the music, to block out whatever words still seem to filter through. 

Theo catches Melissa's eye, next to Argent and the Sheriff. She's onto the signal immediately, cogs whirring at high speed. "Medical condition?" 

Theo nods. He's been given consent to tell them. It still doesn't feel right. "He'd been deaf for six years before this. A genetic mutation that lycanthropy must have taken care of." 

Halting breaths, comprehension spilling over all of them. As one, they swing their heads to look at Alec's forcibly still form on the carpet, legs crossed at the ankles with one foot moving along in beat with the song. 

"That's why you wanted him to meet Lucia first." Derek hesitantly breaks the silence, frowning at Theo across from him. 

Theo shrugs, caught. It hadn't been the main motivation of the reason, but nonetheless a part of it. "Her pack is stable, not made mostly out of barely legal kids who have hardly grown into their skin. It was the better alternative for him." 

Stiles sneers, crossing his arms. "Oh yeah?" he's just as offended as all the members who aren't over the age of twenty. Even Scott is scalded by Theo's comment, like he doesn't know better and expected anything but that blow. 

Theo mimics Stiles' pose, ticks his head to the left. "Yeah. Because you would try and make him as comfortable as possible, step on eggshells around him due to his previous disability, spare him details. You're gonna coddle him. Accommodate him. That'll inevitably raise tension, to monitor your own behavior, body language, chemo signals, as well as the rest of your pack's. Then trying to be overly careful will make your anxiety spike, which will make his anxiety spike with him being a werewolf for such a short amount of time and his instinctual compulsion to mimic. And at one point somebody's gonna slip. Then the one having the most to lose isn't gonna be either one of you. It's gonna be him."

Theo drones on, spewing all of his reasoning in a cold, detached way. Not even vengeful or snide. Facts, that's all there is. 

"Lucia can be harsh, but she knows where to step her foot down, and her pack - how to keep full control of their bodies to null the possibility of their stress affecting Alec. She has more experience with the supernatural, seeing as she was bitten three decades ago, has had the alpha title for over two. That's not even a tenth of what you have under your belts. She's lived through cold wars with hunters, with fellow packs, all while managing rogue attacks from other creatures. True, she might make missteps, but they'll be handled better, simply because of how much experience she has. And she's not the head of one of the most prominent packs in the US just because of her age."

All the adults listen carefully, Argent with a tilt to his lips, Derek with a knowing face.

"You've fought a shit load of crap, can't deny that. But a fuck ton of enemies defeated doesn't equal the rationality of an adult. You're still kids, like he is. You can give him camaraderie, not a stable voice to tell him the truth when he needs it but doesn't want it. Because you probably don't want it either; it hurts less. Because you feel instead of think." 

Stiles regards him like Theo is this peculiar thing that will show its true colours if only he looks from another angle. His father holds a similar expression, only he's also warring with a scrutiny Theo caught on him when the Sheriff witnessed Theo and Alec's interactions upon their arrival at the McCall house: re-evaluation.

Liam's body heat next to him has risen considerably, teeth having rattled together somewhere in the beginning of Theo's monologue. He's glaring at the floor, jaw muscles flexed and bulging under the skin of his cheek. 

Theo slants Scott a look, "You have good intentions, but that won't help him build a foundation to step on. Sometimes wanting to do the right thing just isn't enough."

The adults don't so much as peep. They know Theo's right, after all they're the rational to the teenagers' emotional, the other side of the coin that helps maintain the balance of Scott's pack.

"But you said Alec isn't inclined on staying with her." Liam says, then. 

"Because of," Corey gestures at his own nape, fingers crooked like makeshift claws. "Or because of something else?"

"He got freaked out over the memory manipulation." 

"The aftermath, you mean." Argent corrects.

Theo rolls his eyes while throwing his head back a smidge, one hand waving in the air in a yeah, yeah, whatever. 

"What aftermath?"

Here it comes. 

Liam kicks at one of his ankles, tone airy. "You say you're fine one more time and I'll punch you in the face. That's gonna be the fifth time, by the way."

"Theo." 

Theo reacts solely because Scott uses the alpha voice on him, compelling him to quit the evasiveness. He almost feels a physical pressure on his neck, eyes bleeding golden when they land on blood red. The exchange lasts no more than three seconds but by the end of it, everybody is on edge. Alec included. He's hit pause on the music, the deafening lack of it too telling. 

"Alec." Theo tells him, a warning, but he's looking at Scott the whole time with his mouth pursed. The moment the music starts up again, he adds: "See what I mean? Or should I say, case in point?"

Scott takes a moment and when the realization strikes him he recoils, head snapping in Alec's direction before it whips back just as quickly to Theo. 

"I—I didn't mean—"

"I know, Scott. And that's the problem." Scott wilts in front of him and as a byproduct the rest of his pack's hackles rise—even Peter's, that's a surprise right there. Theo interrupts Stiles before he's even said his first word: "I'm not trying to be an asshole, fuck's sake. If your feelings get hurt over the truth, it's not my goddamn fault. What, you want me to lie and say, oh yeah, you can do it, Alec is gonna do great in your hands and there's no chance of you fucking up, at all! Is that it?"

He observes every member of Scott's pack, not backing down, the protective streak the wolf harbours for Alec nourishing the fire. 

Theo pours the bucket of sizzling oil right on top of the wound. "'Cuz I can do that all you want, if we're gonna go down selfish lane." 

Their hearts skip a beat as one.

"Yeah, I went there and said it. What you all seem to forget is that this," Theo waves a finger in a circle, to indicate the dispute they're in. "Isn't about us. If you wanna act all high and mighty, go ahead. See how far that gets you when you make him shut down entirely because you took on a traumatized kid, who was freshly tortured, was previously deaf and is currently on a sensory overload none of us can even begin to imagine, while thinking that hugging it out is gonna solve everything. Go right a-fucking-head." he exaggeratedly nods, all while his gaze freely roams over every single body in the room, waiting for the one that slips and gives him an in on a fight.

A vein at his forehead pulses, annoying him further. He's so provoked his fangs are itching to pop out, the drive getting stronger and stronger to the point where he feels them rip his gums, at the ready. 

Pair after pair of eyes go downcast or plain won't look his way, until all who are left standing are Scott and Theo. 

"Then what do we do? How do we help him?"

There's anger, there's even fury and anguish, however no accusation. It's Scott after all. Even when he wanted to lunge at Theo, the first time they saw each other after his death and resurrection, he still wouldn't do it. Not because there were witnesses. Because he's Scott McCall who tries to be above all that.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm also a barely graduated teenager like you and Alec. I know how to help him just as much as you do."

"Please." Lydia scoffs, heels clicking on the floor when she moves a step. "You're a walking psychiatry and psychology wikipedia."

"Just because you know all the theory doesn't mean you can't fuck up the execution." Theo recites his own thoughts to her, choosing to omit who he'd aimed them at when they'd first sprouted in his head. Adding even a mention of Monroe to the mix is going to truly cause an irreversible catastrophe. 

"And you're his anchor." Peter butts it. "Or did I read that wrong?" his pretense at viridity fools no one.

If Liam could keep himself further still than he's become already, he would. 

Theo just smiles, dagger deadly. "Try again."

Peter tilts his head, speculating, before his expression smooths. "You sly dog." Malia jabs a finger at his ribs with a growl, in need of an elaboration. "Ow! That was so not a necessary addition to the conversation." 

"You're not his anchor. But you pointed him at one." Derek shines light on it, on the taken aback side of the ring like Peter. 

In the abrupt moment of no speech the song blaring from Theo's headphones carries like a breeze. 

Alec's eyes are flared, head bobbing on the carpet, hands clasped over his belly with his feet tapping in tune to the music's flow. His claws and fangs are nowhere in sight. He has the sound on, at the very least near the middle of altitude and his scent might hold remnants of his troubled state, but it's starting to become a straight line rather than zig-zagging all over the place. 

"He doesn't know it yet, but I think that's gonna be it for him. For now, at least. You should have seen him the first time I put the radio on." 

Theo gathers his slip a bit too late to save face, tone gone soft, tension near gone. 

"So that's why you kept quiet." the Sheriff voices out, not accusingly. More like what Theo had done - state a fact. 

"He hasn't told me a last name, but this was his choice. Only it was one he made minutes ago, not back when we were in the motel."

Mason catches on first, snaps his fingers once. "The back and forth you guys did, with your phone."

Theo nods at him. "He gave me the green light, mostly because he didn't know how to say it in a way that wouldn't make you pity him." it's not even an aimed punch this time. They still wince. 

In spite of their icy color, Argent's eyes lack their typical frostiness when he addresses Theo. "Don't you think that's precisely why he should stay with you?" 

And they're back full circle. 

"I told you that's not possible." 

Argent sighs, something like disappointment flickers. "Theo…"

"I know I'm the only one he trusts as of right now, despite the ridiculous notion of it. But it's not physically possible for him to stay with me."

How the fuck does one say they're homeless without saying they're homeless? If his truck had a bench seat instead of two seats in the front, he might have considered it. He could put a mattress in the bed of the truck, but it's cold at night now, autumn nearing with every day. And it's not safe. There isn't an alternative. None.

"You can stay with me for a few days." Liam stammers, apparently trying to stop another disaster in the making. "I can convince mom and dad and—"

"He's too overwhelmed, Liam. And they don't know yet, do they? What happens if he gets triggered or worse, if they accidentally set him off?"

He doesn't need to add, what if he hurts or threatens them in any way, even unconsciously?

If that happens, Liam will undoubtedly react. He's stronger, bulky against Alec's skinny, has more moves up his sleeve with all the years of lacrosse and his physically adept nature, can take him down no problem. Then the aftermath is this: Liam's parents witnessing the fight, terrified out of their minds, Alec possibly unconscious, or even dying. Then, Liam coming back to himself in a startle, only to see the blood dripping his hands and taste the terror in the air. If the worst scenario does happen and Theo, or somebody else, isn't there to stop it, if Alec's wounds are too severe, Liam will bear the consequence of his actions in more than one way. 

The next time he flares his eyes they won't be golden anymore. 

He needs a stable anchor or it’s pointless.

Liam either goes through identical steps or paints a further gruesome scenario in his head at Theo's prompting sentence, scent dipping rapidly with his face losing more than a few shades. He glances away, the smell from him bitter and imposing from the fear aimed inwardly, ready to hurl by the looks of it. 

In response, Corey’s flares, peppery in anger. Liam stops him before he can intervene. “He’s right. I… it’s not safe for him at my house. If he freaks out and either mom or dad end up in the crossfire, I might—”  

Understanding sweeps around the space, their inability to console Liam due to the true risk at hand further weighing on Liam's shoulders. 

"It's okay, bud." to Stiles' credit he does try to smile encouragingly, Scott alongside him in the cheer-up attempt.

The coyote yips at Theo, beeping online to hurl itself against the mental walls Theo has barricaded it with, for the sole purpose of stating its displeasure at Liam's misery. The walls won't fall; but they do tremble. The wolf does nothing to stop it or lunge to bite at its neck and put it in its place, and that in itself speaks louder than any other action it could have taken. 

He only says something to placate the animals, nothing else, "When you find your anchor you'll get better at it." Liam’s heart skips a beat, lower lip red from being subject to his teeth's violence. "Until then, focus on that if you want to change your situation." 

Under normal circumstances it can sound condescending or malevolent, for all that Theo's tone is way too soft for it to be perceived as such. Only the two of them know the deeper meaning, and the dare Theo say gentle nudge this is - to motivate Liam, a prospect of him taking his IED by the throat and getting free of its shackles. 

"They can stay with me." at Peter's offer the little moment is broken, followed by a chorus of hell no, Malia's chime by far the loudest.

"We might as well sign Alec's evil contract if we put him under one roof with you and him." Stiles gestures at Theo, scoffs. The Sheriff sighs, fingers rubbing at his forehead. Stiles blinks, gives his dad's pained face a single look and, "Dad, no. No, no, no, no. Listen, I live there. Temporarily, while I'm here, but I still live there. And I don't want him under one roof with you when I'm gone." 

"We have a guest room and a storage room."

"Yeah and Theo has claws, in case you’ve forgotten. Big, sharp, deadly, ready to cut you into ribbons type of claws, dad." the statement isn't just that, it's a reminder of how Theo put Stiles' father in the hospital, almost got him killed through negligence with one of the other chimeras, Noah, leaving his broken spike in him and nearly poisoning the Sheriff in the process. 

"I haven't." The Sheriff states, appearing as though he's sniffed curdled milk. "But if those two have to be together for the time being we don't really have a choice. Theo’s right about Alec. It’s inadvisable we give the kid more stress after he’s had a one-on-one with Monroe of all people. You saw the pictures of the crime scene, right? Well, he had to sit there and watch it happen."

Derek intercepts them. "I can give them an apartment." now, he seems like he's had to clean the curdled milk after he spilled it when the stench hit his sensitive werewolf nose. 

This entire pack is a circus. A deadly one, but a circus nonetheless. 

Theo's chest still does a weird thing. A sensation more like. It doesn't hurt. It's not bad, nor does it feel like an intruder under his ribs. Theo isn't entirely sure what it is.

"That way we can keep an eye on Alec's progress." Lydia concurs. The sensation shrivels up, cold and frosty. They all know what she actually means is: that way we can keep an eye on Theo.

Theo shrugs, as aloof as he can be with the left over chill under his skin. Emotional disaster he is, but gift horses are a high rarity in his life. The relief dampens the cold's hold on him. This is... Did he just get a semi-permanent home, even for a little bit? Without lifting a finger? There's no way in hell he'll say no to that. And hey, when Alec gets used to Derek Theo can leave him alone to go through with his theater deactivation spree. If he’s lucky he can stay until everything with Monroe is done with, until he has to leave. It's a win-win in every scenario. They can monitor him all they want, he's not scheming anything beyond categorizing the labs. For once, he's got nothing to hide. 

"Well?" Derek indignantly raises his brows, shifts his head pointedly at Alec's direction while staring at Theo. 

Theo makes three loud, consecutive knocks on the counter behind him, to get Alec's attention. The sharp vibration of the sound carrying in the air does the intended trick - the music stops. 

"You heard them." he knows Alec's been listening in. His scent had gotten an inquisitive note to it a little while ago. "Well? What’s your call?" 

Alec flushes as he sits and pulls the headphones out of his ears, caught. He spares Derek a brief scan, weighing the pros and cons before ultimately saying a simple, solemn "Okay."

With the arrangements out of the way it's down to business. Theo, Derek and Argent clue them all in, in a much more defined detail about the summit Lucia has called. It's mandatory attendance of the top twelve packs in the States, all lethal and powerful. Not just strength-wise: influence, money and connections to the underworld, both human and not. It’s their best bet. They have two days to prepare for it, to choose who's going with Scott and Argent. A possible candidate is Derek, if they can bend the rules - Talia made sure her family name remained known, which might just increase the likelihood the McCall pack being taken seriously. 

Liam is supposed to be the second obvious choice, even the first. On extensive meetings such as these it's the alpha and the first bitten beta who have deluxe tickets. With such a dense population of werewolves of different packs in one place it's always best to keep the numbers to a minimum. There's been a unanimous rule to forbid more than three, and that’s a stretch, full packs on the same territory, to whittle any possibility of bloodshed due to some smartass opening their mouth. This is the type of gathering where any error can result in death. 

I'm accordance, permitted attendance goes as follows: alpha, first bitten beta and the emissary, if the alpha so chooses, though they can elicit to keep their identity a secret as per tradition. Deaton is not officially Scott's emissary, though nobody but the people under this roof know it and he seems rather inclined to go, to keep Scott safe. Argent gets a pass to attend only with Lucia’s verbal seal of approval. And nobody is stupid enough to fuck with Lucia Amadio, she’s practically one of their queens. 

Liam's dejection intensifies, alongside it a tint of a crestfallen acceptance of his role as a wild card twirls around him. What a lot of people tend to forget is that Liam is just as keen as he is impulsive. The IED isn't at all a fair criteria for his intelligence, nor a reliable one. It's just as trustworthy as the big blue eyes and soft features are for his level of lethality, which will always give him precedence on the battlefield - being looked down upon is the best weapon to have over people. Let them pin you down as weak based on your looks, then bide your time, kick their face in when they least expect it. 

Only Theo and Peter seem to think this way. The rest don't want to voice their reluctance of setting Liam up for stress of this category. 

“It’s pack dynamics that have existed decades before you were even conceived, Scott. Some even for centuries, adopted from other continents. You can’t ignore them just because they inconvenience you or cause you distress. You’re a True Alpha, yeah, but they won’t make an exception for you either way. If they do, it’ll end up in a kindergarten fight. Only this one is gonna be between grown-ass men and women who have a lot of aptitude and muscle.” 

Scott isn’t offended, takes Theo’s whip-like words with his hands braced on the table, head between his shoulders and keenly listening. 

“But shouldn’t he have that privilege? You said the whole True Alpha thing is a rarity in itself. That has to give him some points, right?” Alec had inched in throughout a stretched period of bided time, now almost a part of the group just not quite within reach, way closer than his previous position near the front door. 

Theo crosses his arms and legs, right ankle over the left. His opposing stance automatically affects Alec. He halts, his only move being to blink. “Tell me, you have the following picture - jungle gym, a lot of entitled kiddies just barely keeping peace with the order of things. Then one is offered a temporary special treatment or pardoned from the rules. Just once. What happens next?”

Alec grimaces, head bobbing in a yeah, okay, I see your point way. “Massacre for the unjust case that one gets clemency, but not all of them.” 

Alec’s voice is laced with sharpness and bitterness, undoubtedly correlating to his own mishaps born out of his disability. With a shake to his head, to physically repel the nettlesome memories, he holds Theo’s gaze again, logic overriding the fleeting beep of the clogging emotions. “But that doesn’t mean there can’t be a loophole.”

Theo slowly grins as multiple scents bounce with newfound optimism that there might just be a way to bend the rules. “Exactly.”

“And what would that be?” Deaton’s interest is sparked. He knows the laws of their world to a degree Theo does. He probably has an idea already.

“There’s no way Liam can skip this with his status as first beta, unless he’s on his death bed or so ill it’s inadvisable to move him. But, according to a paragraph written more than a hundred and twenty years ago: if Scott sees fit,” Theo catches Scott’s eyes, who is already vibrantly alert and set on Theo. “He can let him bring somebody along. In instances such as heavy emotional distraught due to, let’s say, the loss of somebody dear, it’s an active option. He can take a person he trusts to ground him. That doesn’t exclude humans.” Theo leans forward, to look past Liam and reach his target - Mason. “Which means you, his best friend, can go with him.”

Theo doesn’t need to mention Brett and Lori, the key to resolving their problem—regardless of whatever bad history Liam had with Brett, from what Theo heard in Liam's mutters while unconscious after the zoo, Liam was still extremely rattled by his death. It’s unnecessary. Liam’s lower lip trembles for a fraction of a second before he emits a heat wave of wrath that expands to every corner in the room, gold bleeding into his irises, the same color as melted iron when it’s at its hottest temperature point. Alec staggers back, perturbed and hunched in. They stare at one another, Liam mostly staring through Alec with him being in his direct sight, not really seeing him.

Theo elbows him none too gently, the motion strong enough to crack a human’s rib. Liam straightens so fast his spine cracks into place with the force of it. He finally takes in Alec’s safeguard position directly opposite him, mouth falling open in a rapid inhale.  

“Sorry.” he whispers, hands flailing, then settling in front of him with one palm clasped around his opposite wrist. He takes a breath, glances at Mason who already has a knowing expression on him, nodding back at him. “It can’t be Mason. I don’t trust this to go according to plan, I’m not risking his life. And if something does happen to him I’ll wolf out either way.” 

Stiles shares a look with Scott, holds out a placating hand. “Liam, I don’t think you’re getting it.”

Liam's face goes hard, “I’m getting it just fine. I'm not risking Mason. End of discussion.” here Liam crosses his arms, copying Theo’s locked up pose by also tossing one ankle over the other to demonstratively complete the full duplication of the look. Theo just can’t figure out if Liam is cognizant of it or not.

Lydia forces her lips together, concerned, resulting in her dimples showing. “I’m sorry if we sound like we’re treating you like a child, but this isn’t just about sitting still, in Scott’s shadow to let him do the talking.” her eyes zero in on Theo for confirmation and he does so.

“It’s an active job. Everybody there will be required to state their opinion.”

If she was near she would have reached out to touch Liam in comfort, most likely. “You need somebody to anchor you.” 

Liam abruptly turns his head Theo’s way. Theo stills. “No.”

“You kept me in check with Gabe and Nolan, what’s one more time?” 

“You sometimes let people think of you as a stupid kid, but you’re not a cretin. You’re damn well aware of the fact that the Doctors haven’t tried to touch just your pack in their lust to bring the Beast back.” Liam’s jaw works again, muscles getting pronounced each time he grits his teeth together in uncontrollable spasms. “There’s less chance for them to actually listen to you if I’m there.” 

Argent butts in, “Lucia can vouch for you.”

“I’m not saying they won’t abide by what she says. But any leverage you have as Scott being a True Alpha? You lose it with me there, seen with you.”

“Who else did you kill?” Malia says, mockingly, the coyote in her yipping on the surface in need of blood. Peter laughs under his nose. “Or fuck over for that matter. Destroy? Ruin the lives of?”

“Malia.” 

Malia snarls at Scott, causing half the people in her vicinity to jump; electric blue on brown, her claws flick into existence. She's agitated from the piling shit, used to stress but not it coming so quickly, drowning them like a flood. And all of that is out of her control, lest she wants to land her friends in more danger. Melissa tugs her away, hands gentle, places Malia between herself and Parrish.

“Yao Feng, alpha of the most influential pack in the States. His younger half-sister, also his first bitten-beta under dire circumstances, died under the Doctor’s hands five years ago. I was the diversion and then the one to forge her files, so that they couldn’t pull a full investigation even with Yao Feng’s man in the CIA. I think she’s still reported as missing, despite him probably feeling her death.”

Scott focuses on Liam, Liam doing the same, all in the same second. The bond between an alpha and their first beta, a thing so strong, yet an unmistakable weakness when against people like Theo. Couple that with family bonds and you get a pain so consuming nothing can fill it up.

Theo doesn't have to roam his eyes over the room to see the accusing stares. He can feel them on his skin like an unpleasant touch.

“And you turned me against Scott," Liam lifts a finger to count away. "Also killed him, was the reason Lydia got sent to Eichen, left Malia to the Desert Wolf, almost had the Sheriff killed and did kill Josh and Tracy. By the criteria you just set, we’re the ones with the most right to be offended by your existence and you breathing our air.” Liam is belligerent, obnoxiously so.

Theo doesn’t fall for it. “Yeah, and you sent me to hell for it.” his smile is glacial, purposefully wide to bare his teeth in a would be lupine manner had he been in his wolf form. "The only reason you brought me back was because you needed my help. And the only reason you haven’t sent me back is because you still need my help. Let’s not kid ourselves, Liam.“ 

Liam’s brows twitch, lips parting. But it’s not just him who starts radiating a peculiar scent in the span of a few moments.

Theo shakes his head, filters it out. "First on the scale of power, that's who you're at risk of losing with my presence there. He has eyes practically everywhere. If Monroe tries to flee the continent, he'll know and be able to trace where she'll land, he's got that much influence. Not to mention all the resources. Money for intel, surveillance and weapons? He's your guy."

"Wait, he's the equivalent of a werewolf mafioso?" Alec squints, intrigued in a way Theo hasn't seen from him yet, which Alec tries to hide.

"Not exactly, close enough. Which is why it hurt him even further when he couldn't pull any of the strings he had to find Brenna. And which is why," Theo flares his eyes at Scott, for a few tension filled moments, in a challenge. "I can't come with. Or you've lost support before the summit has even had the chance to occur. He's petty and vindictive enough to not take part in any of the Monroe hunt just so he gets back at me, do you understand? If he is out, how many do you think will sit to listen instead of dealing with Monroe their own way?"

Argent has leaned his head against the wall having seen the lost battle, the resignation as clear as day on him. The Sheriff, and by default Parrish, takes the cue from him and adopts his abdication of the fight. 

You can drop a pin and hear it click upon impact in the rapt silence, settling like black smoke. 

"They're going to find out about your involvement with us sooner or later." Lydia taps her boot rhythmically, in an attempt to contain her alarm. "What's it matter if he sees you now? Shouldn't he know already? Amadio has called the summit, explained the details, including you. And if she's part of the top five shouldn't her voice count as something? They're grown adults, not teenagers."

Theo licks at his lower lip, then the back of his front teeth. "It's one thing when I've had a hand in the demise of a pack member, but his sister as a first beta? Where it was rumored his family has a mental bond of sorts on top of it? That's a whole other territory. If he doesn't outright see me it might lessen the weight of my presence, help keep him on our side." 

"All offense, but your existence isn't easily overlooked even if you're not physically there." Stiles rumbles, just as biting as usual. Malia huffs in agreement. 

Then Argent's phone rings.

All of the oxygen in their lungs is held tight there as he answers and puts the speaker on when he leaves it on the table. 

"I'll send you the coordinates. They're all coming."

Theo swallows. "And Yao Feng?"

Lucia snaps her fingers at somebody on her side, audible only for those with super hearing, followed by the wham of a door closing. "He's compelled to listen given the severity of the situation and the potential for an unpredictable weapon against us all." a pause; Theo knows what she'll say. "He wants to see you, Theo."

She's not even an ounce joyful at the last part. The very premeditated emphasis on one word grabs his attention. He wants to see.

"He does, doesn't he? It was the bargain you settled on." 

Yao Feng wants a memory manipulation done on Theo by his own claws.

Lucia doesn't answer for more than ten seconds. Finally, "Yes. That and… only three of you can come. Argent is off the table."

Argent shocks into action, eyes a tempest when he voices out all their outrage, and to further signalize the horrendousness of it all Peter exclaims at the same time as him: "What?!" 

Nearly everybody is statue still, in stupor, every scent souring with the overpowering dread. Argent was the one they were counting on going, Scott most of all.

"They don't want a hunter, and I quote 'especially a fucking Argent'. I tried to reason, make them think instead of act like infants, but they wouldn't budge, those goddamn idiots. They're all against anybody in relation to Gerard being present, seeing as it's his pupil causing us damage in the first place."

Liam's eyes go gold, his fangs have slid down and yet, he's so quiet when he says, "They're not gonna listen to us. They just wanna kill Theo."  

Alec's heart jumps, starts galloping shortly after. Theo ignores it. Liam's follows suit, forgoing the oddly calm state it had been in from the earthquake of a revelation. Theo ignores it. Scott's speech gets lodged in his throat, a creaky sound the only thing to come out. Theo ignores it. They all turn to watch him, at his lack of reaction, his completely normal internal and external readings. Theo ignores them. 

"What did he say, his exact words?" he presses, locking the wolf and coyote out of his head. 

Lucia gulps in a breath, all ire. "I want to see inside Raeken's corrupt little head and maybe I won't extend the desire to see his intestines."

"The tone?"

"The to—he said he might reconsider pulling your guts out and your first words are 'the tone'?!" Liam's a few notes away from screeching, and they're so close Theo feels the physical reverberation of the wolf under it. 

"Levelled. Not reserved."

"So you did show him. And he still isn't here?"

Yao Feng had gone straight to Lucia's when she'd made the calls, no doubt about it. With his status he could have compelled her to show him, the memories Lucia had access to while in Theo's mind. 

"What did you tell him?"

Theo slaps a clammy palm over Liam's lower face, at the first tells of a growl, with a razor look and with his shifter teeth bared in Liam's face in a silent snarl. He might have gotten a bullet in the face for it, had it not been a situation other than this one.

"What did you tell him? You said something for him to agree. Or else he would have already landed in Beacon Hills and pulled me outta the house to redecorate the McCall front yard. What was it?"

Something isn't adding up. Lucia has managed to sundue the inferno with information valuable enough that Yao Feng is willing to spare Theo's life a little longer, when he's the type to kill immediately. You fuck with him and his and you're a dead man walking. He takes no prisoners, has no interest in torture, just the assurance that his enemy is no longer breathing. But his way of killing is through ritual execution, and to top it off: it's a magical ritual execution. It's not simplistic slaughter, no. Him and his emissary can summon something roughly translating to an Arcana Sisterhood, some structure of long deceased coven of witches whose sole job is to take the guilty, send them to trial and if truly found guilty: leave them in the hands of the souls of all the people they've murdered. For eternity. Yeah, very thrilling.

Skinwalker hell is a bit more palpable in comparison. 

It's the perfect weapon, if only it didn't apply exclusively to supernaturals. No human can be subjected to the Arcana Sisterhood judgment, as is their law. Only magic can punish magic.

Brenna, Yao Feng's little half-sister, was the first to uncover the spell after years of mullish digging. It was their family heirloom, one requiring blood. The blade knows and remembers its masters, an object that will recognize their murderers as well, and what better way to prove Theo's guilt than drenching it in the culprit's blood? He'll want to see it flow out of him, to literally bleed Theo out. Yao Feng will break his self-imposed quick-kill rule before he hands him over to his little dominatrix coven, just so he can utterly destroy him.

Why is Theo still alive? Why are they waiting, risking him making his escape? That's not like Yao Feng at all.

"You'll remember. And if you don't, he'll remind you." is the cryptic crap Lucia hands him before ending the call. 

Like that's supposed to fucking help. 

*

It's chaos afterwards. Yelling match after yelling match, wasting time because they're forced to aim their apprehension at people who were supposed to be of help. 

Liam and Corey have taken the relay race. After Scott, Malia, Lydia, Stiles and Derek had their turn. The adults took over the kitchen area, then went to the backyard when the shouting was evidently unstoppable and in full motion. And when it was all too obvious it needed to be let out for them to have a productive debate.

Even Mason can't subdue the fight. 

Theo takes one peek at Alec, snags a glass bowl from the kitchen and tugs him away. He goes to the truck to take the Marlboro black from his duffel bag, lights one when he's sat on the stairs of the porch with the bowl a makeshift ashtray. 

He hasn't been in need of ripping all scents away in a long damn time. Alec makes a face at first, then his fast thinking gives him the answer soon enough when he takes a few lungfuls of the smoke after the wind blows it in his direction. Abolishing scents is not an easy feat for a non-human nose. Only strong smells can do the job and one fast way of getting it is direct smoking. The awful taste covers your tongue while the proximity of the smoke takes care of your nose and voilà - all smell input is gone. All but the cigarette. 

The rest are so wrapped up in their own bubbles in the house, that only Lydia and Mason notice Theo and Alec's new seats. 

"Listen, kid, I know there's an imprinting process going on but why are you still here? Why aren't you with them?"

"What?"

"Don't you think that if somebody wants me dead so bad there's a legitimate reason for it? Why do you keep ruining your chances for as close to normal as you can get?"

It's the first time Alec doesn't answer a question on this topic. It shouldn't feel like Tara's icy fingers gripping his heart. So he takes a deep drag, 'till it burns, lets the tar take over his senses. It's better for Alec this way, to be away from— 

"Because I think, from what you told me, that you deserved it then. But I don't think you deserve it now." 

Theo jerks, nearly dropping the cigarette on one of the wooden steps. There's only the murmurs of the adults conversing in the backyard, no more yelling from the younger part of the pack. Fuck, how long have they been listening in? And how did it slip past Theo that they've been at it?

Liam slams the front door open, then just as loudly slams it closed. Alec is on his feet a millisecond after. Theo stubs out the filter in the glass bowl. 

"Alec, do you mind if Theo drives me to my place? I need to take a few things." it's so fucking splinter-filled, close to barbed, and holds nothing inviting in it. Alec can't know that it's not entity due to Liam's fangs. 

Then again, Alec isn't stupid either. 

"Suuure." and he takes a step back, cautious with his claws having sprung out. 

Those two are like Pomeranians thinking they're having a boss fight. Alec in a contra because he's unused to Theo and Liam's dynamic, having no way of knowing that their sniping and kicking is mostly for show. Liam because Theo is his anchor and consciously or not, he perceives Alec as a threat to his stability. And both of them are getting on all of Theo's seven trillion nerves. 

It's time Alec puts his newly acquired knowledge to work and for Liam to get the verbal whiplash Theo has in store for him. 

"If anything happens, talk to Derek or Scott." Theo says to Alec, waits until he's got a nod and smacks him in the chest in lieu of a parting. 

He just hopes he doesn't come back to the kid in self-isolation mode with his back to the wall. But the truth of the matter is that he can't stay with Alec forever. The sooner Alec learns to socialize, the better for him. And hey, Theo left him his phone and headphones as a consolation prize. He also meant it when he said that Scott and Co can't help that much in the long term with their cotton candy hearts, but they can actually lend a shoulder with Alec's integration.

Liam stomps after him towards the truck, pulls a face when they throw themselves in the seats. He looks around the front, turns to investigate the back and swallows before he settles facing forward again. 

Liam can try and pretend it's the lingering stench of cigarettes having seeped into Theo's clothes and breath but Alec's scent being everywhere is the reason for him acting like he's sat directly on top an ant colony. The foreign, not-pack smell is bothering his wolf like nothing else, but the irritation is melding with Liam's own anchor-related one. They're but a block away from the McCall house when Liam opens his window entirely, the wind pelting at their faces. Theo closes it with the button on his own door. 

"Fuck's sake, Theo. It reeks."

"Sorry for your delicate nose. Don't give a shit." 

"It reeks."

"No, it doesn't. It's just that Alec's scent bothers you."

Liam looks out the window, caught, to try and hide his face, attempting to tame the overexcited organ thumping away in his chest at an increasing speed. 

"I get it, okay? He's not your pack or somebody you're used to and it makes the wolf go crazy because we're all on edge. But he isn't at fault for anything. So stop treating him like that." 

Liam's answer is mostly a snarl, words barely discernible, "I know." 

"Then quit acting like Alec imprinting on me is him taking away your anchor. Which, by the fucking way, we haven't talked about. And, oh, would you look at that, we have ample time now." Theo makes the last word go as low as he can force his vocal strings to go, when he catches Liam's mouth opening in his peripheral. Liam's teeth click a little when he shuts his jaws. "When I told you to search for a new anchor, I wasn't fucking around. This," Theo waves an emphasising finger between them. "Can't go on."

With all the sensory spikes—the pain, the mirror-anxiety, Liam—having dug themselves into Theo in the short span of two hours, he can't contain his reaction and he's responding to Liam's anger with his own.

Theo takes hold of the wheel tightly. 

Liam's head swivels his way. Theo doesn't meet his eyes, stubbornly watching the road. There was something in Theo's words that reached him. His anger slowly gets replaced with consideration and pensiveness. Ultimately, he doesn't push Theo. They both use the ride to Liam's home as a time out. 

No music, no words, just the whir of the engine. 

It's when Theo parks in front of the house that Liam starts slipping again. He's raw on the outside, so forlorn it hurts to look at him. 

"Don't you think they should know after Monroe?" 

Liam's red, bitten lips pull together, head dropping back on the headrest with his eyes closed. "I can't." he whispers, fingers twined in his lap to mask how much they're shaking. 

Liam’s now facing him, open and so distraught he's willing to listen to any reasoning at this point, even from somebody like Theo.

They stay inside for however long it takes Liam to regain his ability to stand on his two feet instead of falling to his knees. Theo almost makes to take his nausea away, settles on the personal agreement that he isn’t Liam’s nanny, nor is Liam a child. He has to give him at least that amount of respect and let him handle his emotions on his own terms.

“You’ll get along with Alec. A little too well, actually. You’re both insufferable and opinionated bulls.”

Liam snorts, catches him before Theo can pull his head away. The blue in his eyes is like a pool, vast and crystalline, no longer a hurricane grey. “You think I should tell them?”

The amount of trust Liam has exhibited the past weeks is astounding to him, bewildering to a level where Theo’s internal organs react, be it in the form of his guts swooping like he’s on a rollercoaster or his heart trying to get past his fraying control.

“Shit isn’t gonna get prettier. And what happens if you have to warn them about an impending attack at one point? Which part do you tackle first - Monroe’s psychopathic army and what they hunt or what you are? If you do one now, there’s more time for them to adapt. And the Sheriff, along with Scott’s mom, can back you up. One if not the the biggest authority figures in the town, and one of your step dad’s colleagues.”

“It’s not the believing part I’m worried about.”  

Theo digests Liam's fears, and speaks. "Among the two of us, there's only one monster. And it's not you."

Liam's brows and mouth pinch down, facial muscles pulling taut along with it. Theo's brows go up once, keeping their position in a rhetorical question. Liam hasn't killed anybody, nor has he aided in the death of another person, be it passively or actively. He has just as much darkness as anybody, the difference being that he chooses to not act up on it when he's in control of his mind, and shuts it out to his best abilities. Like Scott. 

There's two people in the car. One is a murderer and one isn't. One can kill in cold blood and one abhors the idea of it. One is so versatile he barely knows what's really him anymore and one can't even lie good enough to save his own life. 

Theo and Liam.

"Why did you come back?" 

Theo looks away, slides his hands on the wheel so he's only gripping the lower part of it, arms loose. 

"Scott asked me to."

"Yeah and why did you adhere to him? After all the shit that went down between you and us, you could have ignored it and sped away."

"Are you saying you would have preferred me leaving you for dead to become Gabe's target sheet? Because that's what would have happened."

Liam slams his skull on the headrest with a not even remotely human growl. "See, this part right here? Where you keep putting me in for a loop and avoid actually answering? It pisses me off so fucking much."

Theo smiles joylessly. "I piss you off whatever I do, Liam."

In the end Liam doesn't tell his parents. He pulls a poorly-painted story out of his ass about how his band of friends are spending as much time together before half of them have to leave for university, see? So they have to spend it together, right? Theo listens in of course, still in his truck, texting back and forth with Alec after taking Liam's phone. 

"You know you don't have to lie to us, right, baby? You can tell us anything." Liam's mom is soft spoken, voice melodic, holding a naturally calming quality. Even when evidently upset she doesn't raise her voice at Liam, not once. "And why didn't you invite your friend in? It's rude to make him wait in the car."

Welp. 

Theo reads Alec's texts waxing poetics about YouTube and Spotify, the latter something Mason clued him in on. Theo is going to make a subscription to it as soon as he can sit down for five minutes and do nothing. Money is money but Alec's sanity is a bit more important in this case. Theo can make do. Worst case scenario, he'll ask Dora if she has anything for him to help with, even if he doesn't want to leech off her kindness and exploit whatever person from her own past she sees in him. Or he’ll hunt as a wolf, not like he hasn’t had to do it more than a few times since being brought back.

The tap on the window has him jump in his seat, Dr. Geyer looking down at him with an amused expression. 

"Come on out, kid. Liam might sometimes forget his manners, but me and Jenna don't. It's cold out." 

It's not a long walk from the driveway to the inside of the house. But it sure feels like it. How he’s gonna hide the gauze covering the claw marks is beyond him. He pulls at the hood, to position it so that the back of his neck is not on display, hopefully concealing everything. Liam's step-dad doesn't initiate anything after the brief name exchange, serene and without an ounce of qualm. The only the worry he has is for Liam.

If only he knew he was leading a killer into his own home. 

Theo feels the way Josh and Tracy's skin give under his claws, the sickening sensation of his claws sinking into sinew and tissues, warm and alive before Theo had snatched that from them. Like he had the right to play God and dictate when they live or die because he was smart enough to know how to bring them back. Like they were just measly, little pawns in his plan for him to move as he pleased on the chessboard of his maniacal deviations. Like they were just fucking collateral damage.

"Theo, right?" 

Jenna is about Liam's height, maybe just a bit shorter. Liam's arms are buried under long, wavy hair—natural dark blonde, a thing Liam inherited from her—that falls down Jenna's shoulders to her waist. The other features Liam has also taken his from his mom are the big blue eyes on a slightly different, but undoubtedly the blueprint, innocent-looking face, as well as the athletic build. 

"Yes, ma'am."

Jenna waves a hand. "Jenna. Please. I'm not unaware of my years, but let's not point the projector at them." 

Theo knows she's around forty, the storage part of his brain opening the mental drawer with information about the Geyer-Dunbar household. She doesn't look a day over thirty-five, and that's the highest number Theo would give her if he had to guess. 

Theo plasters his intruder mask as easy as breathing, smiles at her. Liam's jaw clicks; Theo can't blame him. The last thing Liam wanted was for the resident ex-killer who still bears a penchant for homicide to be near both his mom and step-dad, unknowing of the acute danger they've put themselves in. He saw it for what it was, Liam unwilling to put them in harm's way, when he said he'll go in alone, and Theo respected his decision. This isn't really on him, considering it was Liam who wanted Theo to drive him here, in pretense to separate him and Alec most likely. 

Whether it was due to him being unused to Alec, or as a plan devised in advance, to make sure Theo isn't threatening the kid or in any way influencing him for his own merit, Theo doesn't know. It might be both. At the very least the Sheriff would have insisted they confirm it, if Theo has to go by the stabbing, yet not unexpected question he'd asked Alec while they were in the motel.

It's when the turbulence of Liam's emotions, disquietude being the sharpest, hit his nose that he realizes all of the above could have been just a jump to a conclusion he's used to, like an old friend you can trust to be there. 

Upon a quick scan of all the signals rolling out of him, he finally sees Liam's clenched teeth for what they truly are - Liam feeling like he's being backed into a corner he can't find a way out of, like he's being poked with a stick while all too vulnerable, the dread nippy.

A shiver spreads over his own limbs in response.

"Did Liam forget where his hideous shirt is? I knew he'd try and get it for the impromptu week-long slumber party. And all that just to get a response out of Lydia." he's still used to slipping into the friendly neighborhood kid persona, oh so deceiving. 

Jenna laughs, pushes at Liam's arm lightly. "I told you that thing is dreadful." she's just playing along, having accepted that she can't progress when her son is in such a state of obvious anxiety. 

Liam's laugh is as fake as Theo's empathy pre-skinwalker hell. His erratic pulse continues on soaring, also shown by his steadily heaving chest. 

Ah, fuck. 

"Now that I'm actually here, why don't you show me just how organized your room is, hmm, prove me wrong?"

Theo's sneer is as friendly as he can make it. So easy to make it look like benign bickering between friends, not between a psycho and the person who has accidentally chained himself to said psycho in the form of a mental association that calms his supernatural side down—

Shut up, he hisses at himself. Just shut up and get him up the goddamn stairs.

They climb up at a fast pace, practially running away. Liam's panic doesn't get better with the distance between him and his family. Theo just manages to shut the door before Liam collapses on the floor, with his side to the edge of his bed and with his shaky knees coming up to his chest. He brings his face forwards and into his quivering palms. If there was a way for him to physically bend space and matter to merge with the bed, Theo's sure Liam would have.

There's no doubt about what's happening to him. Theo knows how to hypothetically help somebody through a panic or an anxiety attack, yet doesn't think anything would apply here. His wolf is antsy, pacing and grumbling and pissed off at Theo for not doing a thing to stop the high and faint whimpers emanating from Liam's throat at every failed attempt to gulp a normal amount of air, high and pitiful. 

Theo erases the space between them, after more than a handful of moments where he stands like a fucking useless log. Liam doesn't react to it, neither in a negative or in a positive way. Theo doesn't even register on his radar right now.

He's careful when he sits down, even more so when he does it facing the opposite direction of Liam, so he can press their backs together. Comfort is good, right? This isn't too overwhelming, nor too intrusive. If Liam wants to he can lurch away from the touch. Instead, he immediately sags against Theo and when Theo inhales deeply, expanding his lungs to their full capacity, Liam finally fights a rattly breath into his body. The minutes bleed into one another, Theo steering the breathing pattern they both follow. 

The wolf stands with its ears perked, scanning every shift in Liam, be it chemo signal or sound. Theo's irritation at having succumbed to its will is dulled when he has to maintain full control over his body, but it still blisters.

"I know you wanna protect them, but at some point the only way you'll be able to do that is by telling them what to be aware of." 

Liam's pulse kicks off, a studiously screened, yet gut-twisting sob stemming from his chest. 

"I'm not saying you have to do it now. Or tomorrow. Or next week. Just… just be ready to do it as soon as possible. It's the best way to keep them safe. And you can ask for tips from the rest of your pack. How they handled it, what reactions to expect. But from the amount of concern your family has shown there's no way they'll sit through your side of the story and think 'my kid is a monster'. Because you're not. And seeing as how good parents they are, they won't question your benevolence, Liam."

Liam has straightened a bit, having abandoned the curled position. The back of their heads knocking together startles Theo, his heart stuttering meaning that Liam's parrots the reaction. Liam loses the tension only when Theo loses his own first.

The stance is more than a little awkward. It takes them an interim to adjust it, so that it's only the crowns of their heads in contact as well as their shoulders blades, to remove the strain in their first vertebrae. 

"Like I said, among the two of us, there's only one—"

"You're not." Liam whispers, doubtless. It's not loud, but it's commanding. Theo listens. "What you've done, and what they made of you, is monstrous. But you're not the same Theo we sent in the skinwalker prison. You're not a monster anymore."

An unexpected shiver courses along Theo's spine, extending to his legs and arms. He stops breathing until his lungs scream at his stupidity and the resulting lack of oxygen. Liam juts his head, knocking their skulls a tad to snap him out of it, effectively shutting down whatever that was. 

Liam can’t fucking find out about the power he holds over Theo and both of the animals in his skull. 

Nor about the numerous instances Theo has wanted to pin Liam to a flat surface, open his mouth and close his teeth on any area of the long expanse of Liam's throat, has warred with the urge to find out how many high and needy sounds Theo can dig out of him. Nor about the times he's imagined Liam doing it to him, too. Nor the mildly terror-inducing fact that the voice of reason, the one that oftentimes stops him from acting out on old habits, now resembles Liam's too closely. Under no circumstances.

Theo swallows, slipping back into his head enough that he sees it playing out behind his open eyes.

God, if Liam knew of all the fantasies Theo has about him on the daily that just won't go away, he'd be fucking livid. Of Liam on his knees, looking up at him with his mouth hanging open as he takes quick and stuttery breaths, lips red and wet from his own spit and Theo's precome. Of Liam on all fours with his rim loosened from the in-depth prep, waiting to be given whatever Theo chooses to give - more fingers, his mouth and tongue or his cock. Holding him down, fangs in the back of Liam's neck while he fills him for whichever time in a row. Liam with his legs wrapped around Theo's hips while Theo rams him against a wall, letting gravity do some of the work for him, helping to keep Theo as deeply seated as he can possibly get. Taking Liam with them facing a mirror. Taking him face to face, switching up in the middle so that Liam rides him into the mattress, Theo's hands straying from hips to thick thighs, up his abs and pecks to his neck. Bending him over the truck's hood, out in the fucking open where anybody can pass by and see Theo inside Liam all the way to the root, palm heavy on the dimples just over his ass, Liam pressing back with his hands scrabbling for more purchase when Theo sits still and covers Liam with his front to pin him further. The impulse to shut him the fuck up with a filthy kiss, lick into his mouth and taste every crevice, nibble on his lips, then just let go and bite the lower one to bring blood, Liam's true taste, into the game. 

He knows it's the not-human side in need of the shit that seeks concrete painandpleasure, where it's more about disturbing possessiveness and ownership, staking claim as though Liam is a thing he can have, can call his.

It probably still doesn't make it right, how all the times he's had the luxury to rub one off it's been to thoughts of Liam, wondering how hard he'll like it, what will make him squirm, beg and whine, how loud can Theo make him scream, what's gonna make him white out with his orgasm, how many times can he take being fucked in the same night before he taps out, spent and raw and content under Theo, with his entrance puffy, red and stretched.

Then, the wistful wonderings: how Liam will laugh while they're in the middle of the act and the umpteenth crack scenario happens. Having a slow endeavor, savoring it like a deluxe meal, deep and through enough to leave them panting, from the physical and emotional components, and the connection alike. How long they can kiss before they fall asleep together, in no hurry, with no lust clouding the experience of being close, of being known. How Liam looks in the morning light, when his hair is a nest and his smile is sleepy and absolutely dopey. How many times will Liam let him map out his face with his fingertips, let them travel the dips and valleys there, let him find little remnants of scars from when Liam was human. How groggy Liam is while he brushes his teeth and tries to speak through the toothbrush in his mouth. What his favorite dish is for all the different moods and occasions. What makes him laugh so much so that there's tears born out of mirth, that his abdominal muscles cramp. How warm his eyes can get while staring at Theo, when they're lying on their sides facing each other, content with the quiet engulfing them.

And on the very far end of the spectrum: how rough Liam will be with Theo under him and at his full mercy, whether he's just as primal in bed as he is in a fight, how far down Theo's throat his cock will reach, how big his fangs will feel when they sink into Theo's shoulder or neck. The difference is that when Theo imagines himself on the receiving end he can't see it being more than a stress-relief fuck, or an adrenaline pumped-fuck. Just sex. Just Liam in the need of an outlet, a body that can take the superhuman strength. There's no kissing, no sweet caresses, no smiles or laughter, just demanding hands that put him where they want him because Theo can take it, anything Liam dishes out he can take it all. Because if it ever happens in real life, if either scenario becomes more than a dirty and desperate fantasy, it'll be only something of that caliber, and Theo is pathetic enough to throw himself at whatever Liam is willing to hand out to him. And, because as much as Liam is just and virtuous, Theo doesn't really deserve a dime of that upstanding, now, does he? 

He's a thing good enough for a fuck, not a thing good enough to love.

*

The ride on the way to the summit clogs Theo’s nose with fear, distress and unease. Deaton being the only adult, as calm and collected as he is, makes balancing two teenagers with an impending nervous breakdown and one ready to explode from the vast inputs of their tangled scents a Herculean task. 

The trip to Lake Tahoe isn’t short, so ten minutes out of Beacon Hills Theo turns back to the McCall house.

“I am not spending even a little more than two hours in the same fucking car as you. The summit is enough as it is.” Theo snarls, a leaden edge of canine in the action so pronounced that Liam hurriedly forgoes giving his two cents on the matter.

“I find that to be a good idea. The astounding levels of agitation in this car will undoubtedly result in it climbing even higher at this rate.” with Deaton’s seal of approval Scott stays quiet, ruffles Liam’s hair to subdue him.

Stiles and Malia try to lunge themselves at the jeep when Scott and Deaton enter it. Argent seems to be rethinking the idea of staying behind, consequences be damned. And Alec is fighting tooth and nail to not broadcast his emotions on his face. 

"Chin up." Theo tells him, claps his arm. "Best case scenario we're done with it by today and back in the early hours."

"And worst case?" 

Theo shoots him a wry look, shrugs and that's that. They leave two minutes later to discourage anybody hopping into either one of the vehicles. Not before Argent barks multiple variations of the same order to be overly careful, to immediately send out a text if anything goes south and to, here he'd turned to Theo, check in with an update every hour.

So the pairing goes as follows: Theo with Liam and Scott with Deaton. They stay on speaker for the first half an hour, to go over the same dynamics and rules Scott and Liam have been chewing through for the last few days. Then it's just Liam and Theo with the call ended. 

"I still don't think it's a good idea."

Theo's following exhale holds a growly note to it. 

Liam repeats that possibly ten times before they get to Lake Tahoe. When they have maybe seven minutes until they reach the destination Theo reminds him, "You can't react when Yao Feng comes at me. If you do you risk putting Scott and Deaton, as well as yourself and the rest of your back by proxy, in danger. You do not get involved unless you have explicit permission from any of the other alphas, then from Scott. Only when those two conditions are met can you act without endangering your friends." 

Here Liam huffs his own growly exhale, the palm holding onto the hand grip of the door creaking ominously. All his anger is drowned out in fear the closer they get, the initial spring from his unstable state showing itself.

Not that there's anything to fear. Besides, Theo's the one getting shish-kebabed and possibly disemboweled, a feat he's so calm about it's not even out of character. At least if Yao Feng takes his life, gets his vengeancehe might just listen to Scott and help. And with the map, as scarce as it is where Theo outlined the theaters, they'll have the resources to shut them all down. Scott's pack knows most of the basics, enough to issue warnings on equipment and substances. 

They don't have to search where to park. There's a dozen cars at the arranged place, in a forest—but of fucking course it's a forest—far away from humanity and any curious pea-brained morons. Theo doesn't miss how most of the cars, in one way or another, flank the shiniest one of them all, sleek and black and elegant. 

They stop more than a few meters away. The trek along the trees is marked by the unstopping snap of branches and the pitter-patter of Scott and Liam's heart beats playing like a broken record, announcing their arrival from afar. 

The clearing is secluded despite the sheer vastness of it. With it still being late August the grass holds its green, if a bit more frail-looking, swaying in the breeze. Almost like a dance of give and take between the earth and the air. 

Theo has only heard of this meeting place, never knew the exact whereabouts until the day Lucia texted the coordinates. He expected something grandiose, ancient looking, signifying the old magic of the territory of the lake. Perhaps even some stone ornaments, a stone table maybe, with arranged seats and all that, anything to mark this place as a parcel of land used to gather the twelve most menacing alphas in the states. 

Not this flowery field, bare of anything note-worthy as it is during any other day. Unremarkable. For a human.

Theo felt the pull and the power when they stepped on the soil itself. That feeling when you're aware of how much you're unaware of slipping like a noose around your neck, the metaphorical rope getting tighter with every blink. This version, however, is a bit less menacing. A carrying murmur of multiple voices that don't really mean harm, just seek to warn any new visitor of the consequences of the gathered magic here.

They stand in a row, with some space between every pack - alphas at the very front, a step closer than their subordinates. First beta to their right, those who'd chosen to bring an emissary with them on the left. Like nature's own high court. Stony, stern, merciless. All but Lucia. She's the only one with more of a sterile mask, rather than it being ruthlessness.

Scott has followed the model of arrangement since they left their cars—the one Theo made them practice the previous day to make it sink in—paranoid that the others will jump out at any given time and see the inexperience before they smell it. They come to a stop close, Scott at the very front of his present pack, enough for any conversation to be in Deaton's hearing range. 

Only Theo advances further, eyes locked with Yao Feng's, green to beetle black. He keeps the contact up until the moment he's right in the middle between both parties and drops to his knees in the grass, head bowing down with his hands clasped together in his lap. 

Yao Feng advances, expensive leather boots near silent in the grass. Dressed in all black he’s almost like a horror movie jump scare in comparison to Lucia’s sleek elegance. It’s remarkable how he’s this powerful at the ripe age of thirty-one. No mistakes should be made, though, he’s one of the smartest people Theo has met, wit and experience abundant where many people’s lack, notwithstanding his years. That tends to happen when one is left to rule a large pack, along with an even bigger global business, at just eighteen after the death of his parents at the hands of hunters. Or, when his beloved baby half-sister and his first bitten beta younger by ten years—also his last remaining family—dies too, the wound only five summers old. He might be one of the youngest alphas of the summit, but he's the deadliest one, no doubt about it. It’s not just the money at his disposal that makes him lethal.

“Look at me, Raeken.” there’s no force behind his tone, almost arcadian, nothing to indicate his true feelings and the self-restraint needed to not reach out and rip Theo’s vocal strings out. 

Theo slowly lifts his heavy head, having locked away his senses to keep his last moments on this wretched earth at least somewhat hushed and placid. He’d spent all of last night in Derek’s loft zoning out while the rest carried about like a maelstrom, to a place of complaisance he’d reached whilst downstairs in Tara’s neverending, gory slumber party. He isn’t afraid to die. He’s just doleful that he could have done something to repent for at least a small part of his sins, only for the opportunity to be shredded while still in the making. Typical.

Red takes over Yao Feng’s irises, his authority on full display, phantasm claws taking hold of Theo’s head. “Your true eyes.”

Theo swallows, permitting the undeserved gold to flicker to life. Yao Feng’s own widen, to a tiny degree, the sole reason Theo is able to notice is due to their proximity. Theo is caught off guard by the bafflement, but not by the hand that shoots out and by the claws that dig into his nape with no preamble.

Then… Brenna. 

Brenna yelling at him to move, to run away, before the witches get to them both, golden eyes fierce. 

Brenna teaching him how to play the drums, a natural talent with an in-depth feel to the sounds and the minuscule differences in them. Brenna constantly fidgeting, twisting her dark hair when she can’t move as she wants to. Brenna figuring out that Theo isn't a weird mutated werewolf, confronting him and nearly killing him when she uses a juvenile attempt at a memory manipulation on him, then profusely apologizing, unaware of the side-effects and possible complications. Brenna making a deal with the local coven, behind Yao Feng’s back, for them to enchant a tumbled Jadeite mineral that effectively disrupts frequencies into a portable host-binded ward. Then handing it over to Theo like it was no effort whatsoever, like it was the equivalent of letting him borrow her pen.

Brenna, his first friend since Scott and Stiles. Sure, a few years older, but able to recognize that under the fourteen-year-old baby face Theo is a lot more intelligent and knowledgeable than his peers.

Then, 

“See? It looks like your eyes.” Brenna points at the mirror to their left and instead of gold, Theo’s shining eyes are an intricate mix of light and dark green with white streaks woven in-between. Truly just like the glowing stone, now warm in his shaking hand. Just like the key to the lock on his leash.

Then, 

He’s free, he’s free, Brenna set him free. They whoop and scream to the top of their lungs after driving three hours away from the town, their awful nails-on-chalkboard singing filling the car of old 80s and 90s songs.

Then,

The witches hunt them down from their impromptu road trip, due to the dimwitted sloppiness born out of the contagious high spirits. They’d wanted Theo to bring the Doctors to them, to use their knowledge in order to resurrect a high priestess of the olden days os some just as predictable shit, unaware that they’d given Theo the only camouflage in existence against them. As much as they knew about the Doctors, whatever their source, they hadn’t the slightest idea that it isn’t just magic but science and frequencies that the Doctors use.

The coven is enraged and even more so malicious, summons a disgustingly-horrifying and bloodthirsty abomination Theo and Brenna just can’t outrun or kill. Its bent weird. Everything about it is weird. The spine, the skull, the paws, the jaws, the eyes, just weird. Every time they injure it it just gets bigger and its growls grow louder. It steals their energy via proximity to feed from it, yanks it off of them to nourish itself every time they get close until they’re lilting and barely able to stand. Possibly their only shot is to kill the witches, but with that thing circling its keepers like a demonic doberman they can’t even breathe in their direction.

Then,

Theo’s throat closes up, fingers clasping around the leather cord of the enchanted Jadeite mineral around his neck, lower lip beginning to quiver. Brenna notices a little too late, reacts a little too slowly, but not before Theo can flash her one last lamenting, yet rueful smile. And he pulls.

“Theo, don’t!”

Then,

The Doctors materialize near instantly, halting just short of a foot before Theo.

Theo plasters on a sneer, mocking, “Well? I went through all this crap to get the coven that tried to annihilate you in one place and you just stand there?” 

The coven barely has time to react, one by one falling like flies, their bodies making heavy thuds as they hit the concrete. With the last remaining witch dead the weirdly-contorted demonic doberman melts away like a shadow, blown away by the wind. What Theo doesn’t take into account is that Brenna didn’t run and save herself, in spite of knowing what the Doctors are, what they do and can do. To her. And she didn't run either way, she's still on the scene and the Doctors zeroe in on her as one.

The Pathologist snaps Brenna’s neck whilst the Geneticist stomps over the Jadeite mineral, leaving a pile of dust in a dull green color and—Theo can’t keep his emotions under the mask anymore. It’s the noise in the back of his throat, at the deafening crack, and the way his eyes well up that betray him. Not like he’s afraid. He’s a failure and he’ll be dead soon enough, but did Brenna have to—she could have—

They don’t kill him, apparently he’s still of use. No, they take him back to the operating theater, strap him down and one of the last things he sees is a needle in his face, cold leather gloves holding his face still. The turmoil gives him the strength to lash out a final time and howl, the sound dripping in blistering anguish, concentrated with it to a degree where the equipment starts rattling, where all three of the Doctors have trouble keeping him down. 

Everything has to come to an end, at some point. Life, sadness, happiness. Nothing lasts forever.

Then,

When Theo wakes up, he feels like there’s a yawning numbness in his head, with the wolf being uncharacteristically stagnant and the locked up coyote just as uncharacteristically non-vocal. He’s unsure as to why they had to wipe or rearrange memories this time. There’s a stale tang of copper and what he imagines electricity mixed with lethal chemical substances will taste like. The Doctors are uncharacteristically intrigued, keeping their distance but it’s unmistakable how keenly they monitor him. 

And, when Theo catches his reflection in the glass tank containing the Löwenmensch, his golden eyes look more than a little uncharacteristic, too.

Yao Feng extracts his claws.

Theo can't breathe. From the tsunami of emotions or the physical pain, he's not sure. Yao Feng crouches in front of him, expression split open with anger. This time it isn't Theo on the receiving end of it. He'd come here today with the thought that the murderer of his sister will pay, only to find out it wasn't even him who killed her in the first place. Though, he might as well could have; Brenna, Bree his mind now supplicates, is dead because of her association to Theo. He places a hand on either side of Theo's face, starts pulling his pain.

The crimson in his eyes swirls before he orders, “Breathe.”

"I fucking told you, kid. But you didn't want to listen." Lucia marches up front next to him, to lie Theo down in the grass. "You better hope he doesn't die from this." 

Yao Feng scoffs, expression faltering only when it becomes evident that no matter how much pain he pulls it isn't simply isn't enough. Theo is too taken aback to think about anything but the memory manipulation procedure done on him. He can't help but wonder, how many more memories have the Doctors altered, disposed of or hidden? How many more Brennas are there? Has he tried to run before? Was that the first time? Why did they even keep him alive if he was so obviously a failure? 

It's when Lucia looks up that Theo remembers they're not alone. She nods, presumably at Scott, Liam and Deaton, the first two of which sprint like rabbits, forgetting any and all formalities. 

"Theo?" Liam murmurs, having fallen on his knees by his head. Yao Feng has quick-wittedly made the decision to let go, moments before Liam’s hands replace his. Then his fear disguised as fury burst through the concern at the amount of pain he starts taking away from Theo. “I’m going to fucking kill you." he hisses, having leaned over him a little to make sure he's looking into Theo's eyes. "You said it's not gonna be that bad, that Alec overreacted because he's not used to our world and you fucking lied through your teeth.” there's less human in his voice the more he speaks, Scott shushing him while also joining in on the bonding sport of pull-Theo's-agony-away.

Theo can't respond, can barely even focus on Liam. All he can manage is shallow breathing and even that is becoming a task. The pain is worse than when he was on Lucia's living room carpet, with a belt between his teeth. Maybe due to his bigger amount of coherency, reliving only one memory chain in sharp detail rather than multiple ones at the same time, sometimes even temporarily forgetting them anew due to the amount of input. At least this time he can't grit his jaw. All control is lost to him, body lax, able to just sit there and take it until it passes.

"Focus on me." Liam orders him, insistently continuing to take his pain, even when Theo warned them beforehand they wouldn’t be able to. 

Hey, he gets points for at least saying that. He might have spared just how bad his Bad state will be, what with it being near having acid injected in your veins through multiple sources while you're being set on fire. Blistering, burning and cutting pain. Those are just pesky details.

And Theo does what Liam said. He mutes everything else. Scott, Deaton, Lucia, Yao Feng, the rest of the silent viewers. He deliberately doesn't want to hear what they say about him. There's only Liam's heart pumping blood at a fast pace, only Liam's blue eyes holding his own hostage, only the black crawling up Liam's skin.

Fucking shit, Theo is just as guilty as Liam when it comes to anchors, isn't he? Maybe more pathetic about it. 

It takes a whole fifteen minutes for the pain signals to cease and he's practically missed the entire summit. Scott is a ball of nerves, albeit having managed to convince all strangers of his true puppy dog nature as a result of it. Very few continue with the wariness, show it solely when Theo, sweaty and still begining to catch his breath, stands up and shoos Liam's helping palms. It takes Liam giving him a shoulder to lean on, in the exact sense of the words, for it to happen, which might be why. Very rarely do people let themselves be subjected to extended memory manipulation and those who have, willingly or not, typically die from shock due to the extensive pain. And hoo boy, they know Lucia had a turn with him beforehand but a mere couple of days prior.

As well as: they're regarding him with cool eyes, not malicious now. Just a clinical curiosity, as to how somebody like Theo Raeken, known by few but known well enough as the con and infiltrator, has managed to get on the good side of the True Alpha of the century. All Theo can think about, however, is Brenna—Bree, the sister with the mangoes, the coyote insists, the one that hated nicknames but let Theo give her one either way—and that apparently he used to have different eyes, that whatever the Doctors did to change them to gold fucked with his head entirely. Or they just multi-tasked and did a few procedures at once - implemented punishment, rearranged memories, destroyed sympathies and impaired his empathy to a crippling degree, forging him into the perfect sociopath. The perfect weapon. 

Maybe that's why they kept him.

And maybe Liam is right. He isn't the monster that went to hell because for whatever reason, the alterations made to his brain didn't stick there. He came back less of a sociopath and as normal as he's ever been. He's still more cunning than your average Joe, isn't a nice person and tends to have ulterior motives and heavily blurred morals, but it's not to the same degree as before. He used to pin it as Liam's effect on him, not quite able to put the pieces together and sticking with whatever he had. Now he knows better, knows he was different. Still terrible, and still capable of killing in cold blood if he saw fit, and still twisted, but less so than after his eyes were made gold. 

The part of the summit Theo is coherent for is quite frankly so fucking boring he has to fight off yawn after yawn. It's getting tricky, keeping age separate from supernatural hierarchy. The older alphas are not pleased at being put aside while the younger ones do most of the talking. 

Theo is just waiting for Liam to explode, at another mention that Scott is too inexperience and is blowing things out of proportion, and that yes, Gerard might have had a lot of resources, but this newbie hunter cannot possibly magically bind an army to herself and kill every non-human being.

"No offence, but I'll listen when you are the ones who manage to ward off the Riders of the Wild Hunt and the Anuk-Ite, the equivalent of Gorgon Medusa's long lost twin with a twisted ending and merging process." the reason why they all stop and listen is because Liam's voice is strong. Not loud or commanding. Just strong. And entirely sure of his words. "In the span of less than half a year, while fighting off Monroe's armed goons that had sunk roots everywhere. I don't really see how you can state your opinion so surely when you weren't there. Or, maybe it has to be one of yours dead, like so many of ours, for you to heed the warning and respond to the call for help?" Liam is gazing up at one of the seniors—McKane, the tall guy with a crew cut in his late forties or early fifties—the same way he looked at Theo in the morgue, when he told him I think you were rotting down there and I think you deserved it.

His lips are almost turned up in a cruel taunt. 

Scott prickles like an offended cat. "Liam!" he turns back to McKane. "I am so sorry about that, he didn't—"

"Oh, he did." McKane crosses his bulky arms, stance wide. He's been in the military. Had his smile been anything but pleased Theo would consider stepping in front of Liam. However, McKane had wanted that reaction. "Good. They have spirit."

McKane's emissary, the only other emissary besides Deaton, blinks quickly, lifting a hand in the most affronted way Theo has ever seen a person do. "Excuse me, are you the one talking about 'spirit', you degenerate? Who spent all of yesterday cursing some random no-name coffee shop because they didn't have your favorite type of disgusting black coffee? Huh? Because it sure as hell wasn't them." 

The scene proves to be even more comical considering how significantly shorter the emissary is. 

McKane glares at him, lifts a finger. "All that other crap is diabetes in a cup, okay, Danny?"

The emissary flips him off. "Oh, shut up, Mr. One Gram Of Sugar Will Somehow Affect My Health Despite Being A Werewolf."

Another alpha joins in with her red lips twitching. Dalton, with the potential to reach Lucia's levels of gargoyle imitation when she's in the zone. "That's a long name. Might be hard for you to say it with those dentures, huh, McKane?"

It seems that one of the senior alphas playing banter breaks the ice and sets the tone for the rest of the summit. Theo doesn't let Liam react again. He winces like he's in pain every time he feels Liam is a step away from marching to the forest line to pick a tree and hurl it at the rest of them, because right now Liam keeps swinging from barely contained to absolutely livid and is a literal short-fuse. Manipulative? Yes. Is it for a good cause and does it prevent an accidental war-starting? Also yes.

God, Theo is so out of his element. It's a good thing he informed Scott of everything he deemed necessary beforehand instead of trusting himself that much and thinking he'll be fine to do it after Yao Feng scrambled his brain. That is, if he'd lived through it. 

It's plausible that the magic of the land is speeding up his healing. The wounds from Lucia are gone so his skin isn't as irritated by the new additions, and the blood has coagulated already. Or it might be Liam's proximity that brings contentedness to both of the animals in him, their rare state of harmony aiding his swift recovery. He's still an unreliable narrator, drained to the point where he has trouble standing upright. He'll ask Deaton if he's willing to clue him in later.

For now he just trusts Scott's scent that's calmed down, and his dimples as well as the relief flooding out of him, as indicators of the tide of the summit. 

Good. They'll have help now.

*

The following month is fast and slow-paced simultaneously. Theo further learns to share his space with Alec, has a very chaotic trip to IKEA for necessities like beds and some chairs plus utensils with Liam, Derek, Scott and Malia, the rest of Scott's pack at the apartment itself. Half of the ordeal is Scott, Malia and Liam cracking jokes at the names of the items while Theo and Derek stand to the side with their feet tapping the ground.

Theo later finds out Lydia and Melissa ordered some other shit online, namely: a coffee table, a couch, more utensils, more sheets and blankets, a whole-ass decor even, while Peter stood in shock upon realizing all of the mentioned above was bought with his money. Not even Derek's. Specifically Peter's share.

Once prompted for opinions Theo would just mind his own business. "Ask Alec, he's the one living here later on." and he'll leave it at that, make himself look busy. 

He has no intention of getting used to this place. If he's out of luck he'll be back to his cramped truck in a week or two, no use in building a foundation for hope when there is none. 

Then of course, it has to happen either way and he doesn't get to save face. It's the Sheriff who finds out first. He's finally caught up with some old documents, or at least ones he hadn't paid attention to given the scale of the offense, it being that Theo's been caught on numerous properties or in the city sleeping in his truck. 

He'd suggested to help Theo get his things from the place he lives in. That was the alleged reason. Theo didn't question it, thought he could detour through a coffee shop, bide some time, wait for something or somebody to break the law and leave the moment the Sheriff's attention is elsewhere. If that didn't work he'd find another way to stall the trip to the nonexistent apartment he lives in. He'd been sure it was a ploy to test his loyalties again, or whatever the fuck him and Argent gossip about when Theo's name is mentioned, giving up the whereabouts of his safe place. 

"Stop the car, Theo." he says when they're in a more secluded area, close enough to BHPD when the coffee shop diversion hadn't worked and Theo took a random direction. 

A brief flash zips through Theo's brain in the form of is he gonna shoot me in the head finally? and he does a shit job of veiling it, eyes straying to the Sheriff's gun and back to the older man's face. The Sheriff's resignation is stark and there might even be pity there. 

"Well? You gonna shoot me or are you gonna tell me to have my last wish first?" 

The Sheriff frowns, then glances down at his gun, clicks his tongue. "That's not—ugh." he rubs at the bridge of his nose, shakes his head. "I know, Theo."

Theo lifts a sardonic brow. "About?"

"This being your place." the man extends a hand to wave it through the air, gesturing at the interior of the truck. "Before the summit, when you said you can't take Alec with you it got me thinking. And I dug out the reports of the other deputies, hadn't previously paid much attention."

"Yeah, so?" Theo crosses his arms to keep his fingers from drumming.

"Why didn't you tell anybody?" it's not exactly sympathetic, closer to incomprehension. He can't figure out why Theo hasn't used this to his advantage, to milk it and guilt-trip Scott's pack somehow. 

Theo starts the car, going in the direction of the sheriff's department, or the remaining way to it. "What's it matter? I wasn’t aware that not having a roof over your head unmurdered people."

Whatever point the Sheriff had, or whatever he'd wanted to do, that stops him short. The confusion is the most noticeable in his scent, twirling around something else, something bitter. 

"Yeah, thought so. Are we done here?" he says as he parks at the station, gaze on the windshield. 

The Sheriff sighs, shakes his head and gets out. He walks around the truck, to Theo's side. "We're not done with this, Theo." and he claps the roof before stepping back. 

Theo doesn't speed away, nor does he drive loops around the city to clear his head. He returns to the apartment that is half his, if very temporarily, after picking a meal from Dora. He spends well over forty minutes with her, chatting idly about nothing. He comes back to Liam at the apartment as well, awkward and stunted in his explanation of wolfy control. 

There's determination on him, when they move past how much attention they weren't paying if Theo startled them to such a degree as he pulled the metal door open. Liam's sorry, his morals berating him for the way he acted towards Alec when it was something personal at fault and not the traumatized kid, so he's trying to make up for it.

Well. Alec is two years older than Liam, a few months younger than Theo, actually. After a week in Beacon Hills, with all the back and forth between the McCall house and the new shared apartment, he's spent time with the people Theo told him are better for him than Theo ever will be. That resulted in him spilling his last name. His parents got killed in a car accident two years back, so he'd stayed with his aunt, on his mother's side. 

She didn't care an awful lot about the disabled kid dumped on her doorstep, left him enough money to live comfortably while she was away most of the time, and generally made a rule to not address him in any way. She didn't even enroll him in any classes, since there was no school able to take him in, so he filled in whatever he could by himself. He stayed out of her way, had everything he needed and kept the house in check, relatively, and she used him to prove just how much of a caring and nurturing woman she was to her new lovers.

Then she'd become one of the victims of the rogue alpha, slaughtered, while Alec lives with his survivor's guilt, wondering why it was him who got bitten instead of having his insides strewn on the pavement in front of his aunt's house like his aunt herself. 

Alec spends a few days at BHPD with Theo as the chauffeur while they go detail over detail with the Sheriff and how they can legally take care of this when nothing about it is normal or legal. They sprout a story about how the shock of seeing that happen to his beloved aunt—Don't roll your eyes at me, kid, you adored the woman if we want this to pan out—triggered an unnatural response and brought his hearing back. The sudden input of noise made him panic and run to a quiet place, away from the rabid animal that was out to get him. Theo found him roaming around Beacon Hills while on a car stroll and nurse McCall was extremely taken aback by his now perfect physical state, giving the strong opinion of being against putting Alec under any further stress to lessen the chance of him losing his hearing again, when the reason for its return is unknown. 

It's believable. If it's the end of your shift and you just wanna go home. They leave it at that, let the Sheriff and Agent McCall handle the rest.

He also leaves Alec alone for extended periods of time, until he proves capable of staying collected. Then Theo leaves him alone with Derek or Scott, anybody he can socialize with, build relationships with people again, instead of with a laptop screen and books. 

Theo spends the time with Argent, Scott or Derek—when either one of them isn't with Alec—and Malia. Liam, Corey and Mason tried to barge in on one such meeting, got thrown out shortly after. Then they tried to listen in. Argent blew an honest to fuck dog whistle, kept going on every time either one of the trio tried to get a word in until they drove off in Mason's car. Stiles and Lydia are back to university, keep up with the development through the various group chats the pack has.

They organize the intel while corresponding with the rest of the alphas on the summit, some more reluctant than others, but at the end of the day the job is in motion. Yao Feng truly does have eyes and ears everywhere, as seen by the amount of technology that isn't even on the market he supplies them with. His only reaction is to barely lift his brows at their gaping faces. Two weeks since the summit had taken place, they have more resources than Argent has even dreamed of having, ever. 

And Monroe keeps on killing. It's always two to five victims at a time, at random, with no pattern. Some more hastily killed, others having suffered through what only Alec came alive out of. 

And as for the theater deactivation, 

"No way in hell. I'm doing it alone." 

Argent hangs his head in an irritated sigh, braced on the McCall house kitchen table, Malia pacing around the room while Derek broods in the corner. 

"I don't trust them. The only one I'd be willing to get help from would be one of Lucia's. The others? Fat chance." 

"That's rich coming from you." Malia mutters on her next pass close to him. 

"I'm so sorry, did you forget what type of shit is in there?" Theo waves the paper sheet with bullet points of anything possibly going wrong due to chemicals being exposed to oxygen after a long time of no check ups, or the fumes of a potential hazard that could have happened during all those months the theaters have been unattended. And that's without the possible radiation. "I didn't realize you're the ones who know those places better than I do. You know what, why don't you finish the list, then?" 

Theo slams the offending list on the table, right under Argent's nose. 

Derek pushes away from the wall, blanches. "There's more?"

Theo slants him a dubious look. "They were mad para-scientists who obsessed over the Beast for a long goddamn time. You can't cheat death like that without having a stocked lab that can kill quite literally anything standing in your way."

Argent shakes his head. "Do you have any idea how long it's going to take? We don't have time, Theo."

"You think I don't know that? Right now, I could be on the road, doing that instead of holding an argument that isn't going anywhere. Alec can stay by himself now, he doesn't need a nanny. I'd take him with but he's not used to it enough, can't risk him accidentally setting us on fire. But you can use his help here, he's as sharp as a whip and all those years he couldn't go to school? He spent the time fixing the dents in his knowledge, picked up all types of quirks and quite possibly has more ideas than we do." 

He goes to chug a glass of water, back tense. It's not good for Alec to stay in the apartment all day. He's starting to feel like he did with his aunt. He needs a scene change, to be given responsibilities, ones he can handle of course, and instead they're doing exactly what Theo warned them they will.

The next day Argent relents and Derek hands him over another credit card, the previous one for the expenses between Alec and Theo. Alec is in on the research, so happy that if he had a tail it'd be wagging non-stop. Liam gets a whiff of this information, somehow manages to time it so that he's in front of Derek's building just as Theo puts his keys in the ignition. 

He's got a duffel bag slung over his chest, hands in the pockets of his sweats, casual, and startles the living fuck out of Theo. 

"Oh, hell no." Theo locks all the doors, stares at Liam unimpressed when he walks over to the passenger side to find that the door won't budge and starts pulling at the handle repeatedly either way, keeping their eyes locked. 

"No."

Liam squints, retaliates by vigorously continuing with his childish behavior. 

"Not happening. You'll slow me down and get in my way. I'm already two weeks behind. Go home and study, Liam. Be a fucking teenager or whatever." 

Liam keeps up the racket while he takes his phone out of one pocket, scrolls on it, then plasters the screen so Theo can see, the sound of glass on glass setting Theo's nerves off. 

A photo of Theo's completed list regarding the theaters. 

"Derek took a pic, then Alec nicked his phone to send it to himself and to me." 

Fucking hell, he hates how right he was about those two getting along like fire with the animosity out of the way. Not to say it's entirely gone. Liam still looks weirdly at Alec, as though he's out of place here. That hasn't really been a surprise. Liam doesn't take well to profound and sudden changes. The way he manages his IED, from what Theo has witnessed, is through making himself aware, of getting used to his environment and picking apart the situations he might end up in. To have the carpet pulled from under his feet is never a good thing for him.

It's the why that bothers Theo. Liam's too good of a person to act in such a manner, regardless of a new factor that has shifted the dynamic of his pack if even a little. He's usually receptive, welcoming, willing to lend a hand. Why doesn't it extend to Alec? Or, more like: why doesn't it fully extend to Alec? Liam has kept his distance while maintaining small talk, answers any question Alec sends his way. Hell, they'd make an amazing team, as proven this very instance. 

Is it jealousy that Alec lost his disability with the bite while Liam still wars with the IED? It shouldn't be, can't be that. He's not the type of person, can see past his own mishap and not permit the shit holding him down make his radar get murky because of it. He's not rotten or cut-throat.

Theo leans his elbows on the wheel, then the left side of his face on his forearms to look at Liam. “Does Scott know about this? ’Cause he’s one phone call away.” Theo lifts his own phone, waves it in the air. “Be very careful what answer you give me.”

Liam crosses his arms, scowls. Then he untwists, scrolls down his phone and presses it to his ear. Scott picks up on the seventh ring.

The first thing Liam says is, "I'm going with Theo."

The call is over with within two minutes, majority of the time spent with Scott asking Liam if he's sure, whether he has a cover in front of his parents, if he’s aware that this can take anywhere from one to two weeks and how he'll make up for all the missed classes because principal Martin won't let it slide just like that. Liam strikes him down with just a couple of deeply cutting sentences that are a low blow, even by Theo's standards. 

"Monroe isn't gonna let this slide either. Which outcome isn't going to result in the death of more innocent people?" 

They're out of Beacon Hills within ten minutes, Liam's duffel bag next to Theo's in the backseat. He's currently texting Mason, to go over the plan to keep his parents in the no-know zone, solidify it and prevent any fuck ups. 

"So they'll believe all the nonsense that the slumber party at Scott's had extended?"

"Why wouldn't they?"

Theo gives a huff. "You probably marched out of there looking like you've accepted your fate, not like you're going to have fun with your friends. That and the shit you have in the duffel bag? Yeah, I can hear all the crinkling from the protein bars and the handcuffs, which, the fuck?"

Liam swallows, plays with the edge of his shirt. "I need them. For me. The full moon is close and I don't want to risk it since we probably won't be back before it."

"It's regular metal you probably got off some BDSM site. You know damn well how little of your pressure is required for them to snap."

It's a mumble when Liam says it, "Deaton put some enchantment on them or whatever. Said they can hold me off for a little bit."

"I really like how you just confirmed they're cuffs from a BDSM site when you completely ignored the topic." Theo drums the fingers of his right hand on the wheel, mouth pulling in a grin he doesn't even try to contain.

"Oh, shut the fuck up."

"On a side note: text your parents. If you don't want to lie to them further, don't make up stories to make them believe you, just tell them how you really feel right now. They'll build the context by themselves."

Liam readjusts himself in his seat and, "Lying by omission. Should have known that'd be your advice."

The light mood abandons Theo like the flame of a candle being blown away, leaving only strings of smoke after the last little ember has disappeared.

Liam smells of regret; his stubbornness wins over and he doesn't say anything else.

It's not that long of a ride to Stockton. Theo uses it as lesson time, not remotely happy that he can't go alone and have his five minutes of down time when the space of the theater gets too much. He can't even use one of the breaks to stretch his canine limbs, staring at the slew of grass forlornly. Liam doesn't miss it, tries to make him talk, stops when he's met with a snarl. 

Theo checks in with Argent just as they exit the truck for the operation, thoroughly enjoying the man ripping Liam a new one for a full five minutes. Theo doesn't learn new curse words, Argent is beneath giving into his impulses unless the case really is apocalyptic, but now he knows what it's like to whip somebody with your day-to-day vocabulary alone.

This time finding the lab is the easy part. The challenge sits in the form of Theo breaking out in cold sweat upon setting foot in there. The psychosomatic hallucinations begin shortly after, biting at his senses and sanity alike. 

"Theo?"

Theo waves a dismissive hand, keeping himself busy with the deactivation of the third tank, his fingers slipping on the tubes with how clammy his palms are. His shirt is plastered to his back and front and he can smell the stench of anxiety on himself, a mocking leer at his unsuccessful attempt to mute his signals, wipe them off himself. 

It's Liam who makes him sit down, when they've arranged which types of wolfsbane they'll take for Argent, as well as the paper files. He's insistent to an extent where Theo, in his current state, can't really fight him off. He's so numb to his surroundings that it's after Liam's sneakers make a loud screech that he notices his presence behind him. 

It's a mirror to what Theo did while they were in Liam's room, only Theo isn't really having a panic attack. Shutting down more like, unable to properly put where his limbs are, what they touch, how they're arranged. It's when Liam's hot back connects with Theo's sweaty one that his body buzzes awake, cell by cell. He hadn't realized how nauseous he's been feeling up until this moment, stomach cramping with it, left arm wrapped around his belly in an attempt of unconscious self+comfort.

There's waves upon waves of frosty ice circulating in his bloodstream, suddenly so tired he can't help but go lax, his weight falling on Liam. Pins and needles spread with the new cold wave, starting from the tips of his fingers and toes. He feels more than hears the high lupine noise he himself makes, triggering a reaction from Liam. 

"Theo?" he's present enough to catch the alarm there, finally hear how out of norm Liam's pulse is, a reflection to Theo's own. "Hey, you okay?"

Liam, ever the bleeding heart. He just doesn't know when to stop pressing, does he? Had Theo been alone this might not have even happened, seeing as he wouldn't need to work so hard on yanking himself on the path of less feeling and subsequent emotion broadcasting and more doing.

Theo needs to get away. 

He lurches forward, gets to his knees to pull the drenched shirt over his head. He might be overly cold on the inside but he's also sweltering. His movements are choppy, as is his breathing, limbs faint and uncooperative. 

The low growl is in motion before Liam's hand makes contact with his skin, forearms trapped in the shirt that just doesn't want to glide down his arms and off him. Liam doesn't touch him. Theo isn't even aware of what his goal had been in the first place, needing the slide of his jeans off his legs to put two and two together. And, well, underwear be damned. 

The shift takes over momentarily. It's akin to a switch, the human thoughts going progressively more quiet. He lies down, back to Liam, heaving. The world is still chilly and his limbs are still desensitized, but it's more bearable now. It's then that he remembers why he reacted the way he did.

He almost died from severe blood loss here, one of the Doctors' unusually rare mistakes. They'd left him open for too long, prolonging their prodding and examination. Theo recalls hearing his—Tara's—heart way too clearly for the second time in his life, in his last seconds before he'd blacked out. Before that it'd gotten steadily colder, his body shutting down, the blood leaving his back sticky from where it'd pooled before it had dripped down onto the grimy floor. 

This is why he hates having his memories stirred. It creates an abrasive disparity between brain and body. His mind is the middle passenger, left to dangle back and forth, trying to make up for the chatter of endless whispers that try to guide him, only to shock him into alarm. So his body reacts before the dam breaks, with this miscommunication.

He'd known the consequences, had made his peace with them. Finding and killing Monroe outweighed the risk, giving her a genocidal bio weapon even more so. Is selfishness a part of his rash decision? More than likely. This one he can pin on Liam entirely, him and his 'do the right thing' propaganda he preaches with Scott. So what if the price to pay for doing said right thing might cost him his sanity permanently? 

"Hey." Theo blinks into awareness. Liam has his head in his hands, to tilt it up and physically compel him to look back. "Yeah, that's it. You with me?"

The wolf is relishing in the contact, starved for it, near begging like the coyote for but a single crumb of it. Because through punishing himself, using it as self-preservation as well, Theo also cuts off both animals from things they need. Touch, comfort, affection. It used to be so much easier when he was Theo pre-hell, when all he had to do was quell the urges with sex, let strangers' fingers dig into his back while he filled them up, drowning in their heat, but never the one with his legs spread. It's too vulnerable, handing over such control and permitting somebody to touch you inside. It's never been an option for him. Before Liam.

He doesn't need the animals' bared bellies to know that he'd give that to Liam. Let him inside. 

"No, no, no, no, no thinking, okay? You've done enough of that. Just breathing and existing is the quota you've gotta meet."

Jesus fuck, he really needs to clear his head. All these years and Theo still isn't used to the way his mind gets all jumbled up when he's in his wolf form. All parts of him come into direct contact and the human side is the most dormant for a change. 

Liam inches closer, on his knees, brings Theo's forehead to his chest until hid nose in contact with Liam’s abdomen. He's got both arms on either side of Theo's head, fingers gently moving just at the base of the back side of his ears, not petting or caressing, just small rubs into his fur. Now he can feel as much as he can hear Liam’s heart.

When they get out of the theater, after roughly seven minutes in the position, it's Liam who finishes demolishing it and it's Liam who takes all the shit they'd prepared, then it's also Liam who seals off the entrance. He's somehow managed to wrap one arm around all of the things they've taken, irritatingly mindless of the fact that it's fucking wolfsbane in those vials, so that his free hand stays on Theo's scruff. His fingers may be wrapped in Theo's fur, but Liam doesn't use them as an ad hoc leash or a form of control. He's careful not to pull.

He's also peculiarly silent, and even more so peculiarly calm. It's a thing he does, Theo has noticed. Liam is fully in control of himself when he has to look out for somebody else, when having their back can end in fatality for said person if Liam fucks up. He remembers the hospital and the Ghost Riders, when Liam set off the ambulance, to buy Scott and the others some more time to bring Stiles back. He remembers their last fight together, in the same goddamn hospital, after Theo pulled him in the elevator. When his determination is set on any other goal but himself, Liam can keep himself in check a lot more than he gives himself credit for.

And Theo knows why. If they have to tackle the anchor thing, he'll be left with no choice but to shine light on it. 

For now, he just lets Liam guide them back to the truck, patiently waits for Liam to dig some clothes out of Theo's duffel bag and give him privacy to shift back. It's not ignoring when Liam doesn't look his way as they both get into their seats, it's a measured way for him to give Theo even more privacy, through not breaching the subject and deciding to ignore it. For now.

The phone call with Argent is laden with untold truths, Liam not spilling a drop of his firsthand experience with Theo's brief meltdown and Theo keeps the inquisitiveness out of his scent while maintaining no eye contact.

Theo just barely shakes his head, jostling everything in there - ghosts, cobwebs, sniggering apparitions. They speed down the highway, Theo already tapping into his mental map to navigate them to Carson City, Nevada, followed by the two theaters in Utah and the one in Colorado respectively. It’s a lot of miles, but those forty-six theaters won’t terminate themselves. Two weeks lost equals at the very least seven or eight of them that Theo could have taken care of already. He wants to move quickly, to prove that they don't need other packs' involvement to speed up the process. You never know who’ll be swayed by greed and try to take or duplicate something, keep quiet about it, then drop the bomb when they're least expecting it. Theo, of all people, knows what it's like having too much power, getting high off it to the point where the only thing that feels good is obtaining even more of it, to eliminate any feelings of helplessness and lack of control over your own life.

If all the decisions rested on Theo’s shoulders alone, he would have just gone on a two month spree of dedicating his existence to neutering the physical threat of the labs. Upon voicing it out as an option, Scott had been close to outrage, even Argent was miffed, Derek contemplative and Malia unsure how to react before settling for her default snark. 

Theo’s breaking point occurs after sunset, when the air gets chilly. They take a stop at a gas station near the border between California and Nevada for some food and a bathroom break. Theo tries to light a Marlboro black, thumb catching on the flint wheel of the lighter, the spark unwilling to materialize. He almost hurls the thing at the cement to go buy another one when Liam snatches it out of his grasp.

Blue on green, their hearts skip as one, then again, as they catch the event in stride. Liam drags the pad of his thumb down the flint wheel just once and the flame catches. Theo leans his head in, enough for the end of the cigarette to meet the flame to take a drag, cheeks hollowing with it, and exhales through his nose. 

Liam lets go of the flint wheel, his finger slipping, and they jolt into awareness. Liam glances at the cigarette, gaze wandering to Theo’s eyes again afterwards. He then reaches with his free hand to Theo’s left one, where the pack of cigarettes is halfway there to being crushed. The connection of skin on skin sends a bolt of static between them, Theo letting go of the carton box and taking the lighter from Liam just as swiftly. They repeat the process from less than half a minute ago, Theo producing a flame for him on the first try, eyes still locked with a hint of gold in both pairs.

Shortly after, Liam leans on the driver’s side of the truck, next to Theo, their shoulders brushing as they smoke. Liam nearly chokes a few times, clearly unused to the feeling but soldiers on, for whatever reason intent on doing something he doesn't even enjoy or use for a reason such as Theo's.

The usual restlessness when he’s around Liam is back full force. Theo has to scrimmage with the craving to look at Liam, drink in the curves of his face, his throat, chest and arms, hips, thighs. He takes a drag, licks his lips and closes his eyes. It’s not a good idea, any even ground he has with Liam’s pack will be lost if he takes this road.

When they find a place to sleep, relatively comfortable, with enough space so that they aren’t in each other’s faces, they check in with Argent. Theo eyes the black Marlboros on the nightstand between both beds. He’s starting to feel suffocated again. 

“What happened? Back in the lab.”

Theo starts rearranging his duffel bag. "Memories."

"Yeah, no shit."

He slaps a freshly bought and laundered shirt on the bed. "The memory manipulations stir-fried my brain, Liam, what do you want me to tell you?"

Theo walks to the other side, snags the cigarette packet, along with the lighter, and pockets it. "I'm going out for a smoke."

He resolutely doesn't slam the door on his way out, wanders to the truck so he can sit on the hood. The cold has started setting in, Theo's skin erupting in pleasant goosebumps when he lights his cigarette. He'd gone out in plain sweats and a t-shirt just so he can enjoy this. 

Liam exits their room, stands at the doorway until he spots Theo. The door closes with a click behind him, Theo hears him take a deep breath with his not-human senses. Liam's steps are intent on his way to the truck, then pause briefly before he sits next to Theo.

There's gold coming to life over blue and Liam lights up a cigarette for himself, coughs when he inhales too deeply.

"How can you even stand the taste, dude?"

"The taste is why I do it."

Liam lifts his cigarette close to his face, staring at the cherry red of the lit end, shrugs and smokes along with him. "I still don't get it. It's disgusting."

Theo kicks him. "Then why are you wasting my stash, asshole?"

"To see the appeal. You don't do anything just because."

Theo observes the scantly visible stars in the sky, reminiscent of the night of shared muffins with Lucia. Those coconut ones really were divine. 

Maybe when he gives the truth he'll be left alone.

"It takes over my senses. I can't taste or smell anything but this," he lifts his right hand holding the cigarette. "So I smoke when I've lost my bearings."

Liam is pensive next to him, swings his legs back and forth. "That makes sense, I guess." he'd been expecting any other explanation than this, it seems, like Theo telling him he does it because he likes it or because he's edgy like that.

Liam turns to look at him and in spite of Theo's rationale, Theo returns the gesture. Liam's red lips are just as discernible in the darkness as they are in the sunlight. The street lamps amplify the color, give it depth and saturation. Liam takes a drag. Theo speedily moves his gaze elsewhere, lands on the blue eyes, finds that they've also received the night's special filter. The pupils are dilated, and Theo chalks it up to Liam's body's natural reflexes to the dim light. 

Because carnal desires are better left unattended when they involve the people you have to work with in his book. The want is just a side-effect of Theo's unhinged head, is what he admonishes himself with. 

Their eyes meet in another flash of gold, Liam's pupils dilating further. He realizes, Liam has been staring at his mouth.

Maybe, it's not just him that's unhinged. Just maybe.

Notes:

Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated and it's validation I can't deny keeps the muse fed!

And if you want to scream about Thiam with me, pls don't hesitate to do so on my tumblr.

Chapter 5: Oh I wanna trust, then I wanna fall, tell me that you'll catch me when I trust fall

Notes:

GUESS WHO'S STILL ALIVE!! I'm so, so sorry to each and every single one of you who has waited for my ass to finish writing the new chapter, but as a compensation it's 52k? (yes, I know the first 4 chapters amounted to 63k in total lol) Also, as always, I want to hug each person who took the time to write a comment and leave a kudos, you guys are the reason I didn't abandon this work and I kept re-reading your kind and encouraging words when I was on the verge of throwing hands. Thank you!

WARNING: Now, this one is just as trauma filled and as disturbing, at times, as the previous four, so be warned for heavy violence, dissociation episodes, self-harm and Theo's self-destructive nature. Please, keep all of that in mind and take care of yourself first, if any of it is triggering to you!

Title of the chapter is from Bebe Rexha - Trust Fall.

Hope you enjoy!

They deactivate three more theaters before Theo's body gives him the finger, after the prolonged exposure to memories he'd rather never relive again. This is probably why the Doctors kept wiping his head clear of the multiple procedures done on him, to minimize the fracture of his mind. They gave him supernatural abilities through science and extensive knowledge of the supernatural world, but underneath it all Theo still has some human between the animals. 

He's numb all over when they're done with the last lab in Utah, now speeding down the highway to Colorado. He can barely make small talk with Liam, responding with grunts or hums, not really reaching into his vocabulary. He doesn't think he can, right now. What he does knows is that he's in a dire need of a shifted run. Problem is, apart from him being with Liam, that he's just not so sure he'll be able to shift back. The balance is nonexistent, the wolf displeased, snarling and snapping at everything. The coyote is blessedly silent, after however many times it got the short end of the stick and got beaten into submission by its violent roommate, licking at its wounds somewhere in the background. 

It's funny how on the inside he's in the middle of a tempest, while outwardly he's not even so much as shaking. His hands are steady, heart leveled, motor and comprehension abilities unaffected by it. He hasn't let himself even light one up because of it, unwilling to make it a habit that will stick, rather than a last resort sort thing. It's an expensive coping mechanism. The moment he's cut off from the credit card Derek handed him for Theo and Alec's expenses, or the second one while he's on the road for the deactivation spree, it'll go downhill if it's his sole way of dealing.

In hindsight, it was stupid. He should have just had one fucking cigarette, enough to dull the effect of the afterimages, and buy himself time to get his ass out of the rip current, instead of swim against it like a half-wit. 

He goes to bed the second they're in a motel room.

Theo wakes up to his shirt wet, plastered on him like a second skin. One arctic shiver hits him, eyes flaring in the surrounding darkness. 

"Theo, you gotta calm down, okay? Wherever you were, you aren't there anymore." 

His eyelids are heavy, so much so that he can't keep them from dropping for very long. He places the uncomfortable feeling of weight on his chest a breath later: his own claws are lodged in the middle of it, over Tara's heart. They're all the way in, blood welling around them, seeping into his sleeping shirt at a steady pace. Theo can only stare at the process, still caught up in the nightmare where he'd tried to give Tara her heart back, clawing and tearing through his own muscles and bones to do so. 

"Theo." the insistent voice belongs to Liam, who places one knee on Theo's bed, hands up with his palms facing Theo to signify he means no threat. 

Theo pulls all his claws out simultaneously, flicks his hand to make them retreat. The blood isn't that much, honestly, he's had his chest cavity open and almost died from it—died over and over from it too—but the red drips down his fingers, to his palm, wrist and forearm. He just stares, transfixed, devoid of any opinion on it. 

He blinks, crunches himself into a sitting position and gets off the bed, bypassing a frozen Liam to do so. His feet take him to the bathroom, using an elbow pressing the light switch on. He rinses his dirty hand first, then thoroughly washes it up to where the blood had dribbled down. By the time he's done Liam has abandoned his position on the bed, steering himself to the entrance of the bathroom. 

Theo plucks the shirt off himself, runs it under the water to get most of the crimson off it and use it as a makeshift rag to wipe away the mess on his chest. The wounds have almost closed. He doesn't care about that either. It's what prompts him to get to the conclusion he's having a dissociative episode of sort, the sole explanation he has for the acute apathy and disregard. 

"Theo?" the whisper carries, child-like. Scared and meek.

Theo tilts his head to the left, in Liam's direction, to indicate he's listening without having to open his mouth. He's not up to talking yet, has no guts to even catch his own reflection in the mirror above the sink. 

Liam doesn't say anything else. His scent does for him: no shortage of fear, panic and affliction. It's highly possible he can't calculate what any word of his will lead to. He's too startled and distressed to be angry. They're not friends or pack for him to show outright concern or care for Theo in this state and he's afraid that he can create a domino effect if he utters the wrong thing, because this is a wrong time for everything. 

When Theo's chest is clean he drops what now can only be classified as an actual rag on the floor, the wet material connecting with the tile in an unpleasant squelch. He takes the toothpaste bottle, puts some on his index finger and drops it on his tongue, taking a mouthful of water to swish it and let the artificial menthol take care of the taste of copper cloaking his tongue. When he spits it out he turns the tap and lights off and heads to his bed, once more side-stepping Liam, not permitting a single brush, and he lies back down like nothing happened. 

He hears Liam do the same, albeit slower, practically on his tippy toes and still in disarray from the scene. It's like all of Theo's emotions went to him instead. Theo would wonder if he'd actually gone through with an action that fucking stupid, one not only Theo but also Derek had warned everybody off from, if they'd been in physical contact. Thankfully Liam hadn't touched him, so no need to ponder on that one.

Liam's pulse maintains its elevated state while Theo tumbles his way back to restless sleep. Or, he would have, had it not been for:

"Theo?" it's the same lost tone as before, decking into Theo's resolve and forcing him to answer. 

"Mmm?" it's throaty, what with how drained he is.

It's the type of question they know Theo's only reply will be a lie, "You okay?" 

"Mmhmm."

Liam lets him fall asleep afterwards.

He still jolts awake some time later, uncomfortably warm under the sheet, with cold sweat making it stick to him from the second nightmare. The image of Brenna's bloodied face is still too fresh behind his eyes, a fast sequence of her laughs and lastly the final scream of Theo's name before the deafening crack of her neck getting snapped. This time Liam's hot palm is on his shoulder, to presumably shake him into awareness, his other hand on Theo's left wrist, keeping his fingers from making contact with the bare flesh of his chest. He hasn't sprouted claws this time, at least, though from the itch at the very tips Theo knows they're waiting to pop out. 

There's no black veins on Liam's arms this time either. 

Theo goes lax under Liam's attempt to stop him from doing more damage to himself, closes his eyes with a heavy, shuddery exhale. It isn't long before Liam unhands him, but maintains his tight grip on Theo's hostage shoulder. It's then that Theo taps into Liam's signals, previously too submerged in the lingering feeling of Tara's proximity. 

Panting, tremor-filled, smelling of panic and that scent people typically emit when they've lost their footing, when their body has reacted in their stead and they can't connect all the factors of the enveloping scenario to form a whole picture, can only fixate on one detail at a time. 

Theo stares up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, face clammy with cool droplets of sweat that slide down his throat. He's still breathing heavily and Liam's eyes become dinner plates, seeing something Theo isn't aware he's broadcasting, is too tired to slather a wall atop it as a cover. Liam looks to the side, to compose himself and forcibly ignore whatever he just witnessed. His right arm lifts up a bit, at the shoulder, so he can press his mouth and a large portion of his lower face into his sleep shirt. It doesn't take him long to focus on Theo again.

He nods to himself, goes to his own bed for the pillow and blanket there, drags himself back to Theo's bed.

"Shove over." he orders and emphasizes it with a barely there push to Theo's upper arm, actually moves Theo closer to the edge of the left side of the mattress so he can throw his shit and lie down. 

The thing is, Theo lets him.

There's not nearly enough space, the skin of their arms and legs flush together. Theo finds that he doesn't hate it in the slightest, in fact is stupefied at how deeply he relishes in it. He doesn't even need to check up on the animal sides of him to pick up on the fact that there's a fucking pair of wagging tails. With his limbs feeling like lead it's an even harder task to try and put distance. 

Their scents are starting to weave into one another. It's driving Theo's nervous system crazy and had he been just a little bit more under the weather mentally he'd be fighting the urge to shove his face into the crevice between Liam's shoulder and neck, nose under his ear, scent him from the source and possibly land a bite. Or twenty. At this point he doesn't know if he has a neck thing or if it's a two-animals-residing-in-your-head-24 /7 thing. 

His gums itch, fangs begging to descend, body responding to the prompting scenarios flashing in torturous details. 

Liam's head shifts on his pillow to watch him, the swishing noise of his hair on the dull cotton alerting him. Theo gathers the remainder of his thoughts, careful not to let anything beep on Liam's radar, and turns on his left side, away from him. He's not having a pseudo therapist session. Not now, or ever for that matter.

When he wakes up for the third time it's starting to get bright outside. He can't place the factor that brought him to awareness when the silence says it's not the alarm. 

A soft sigh, contented and warm, lands on the side of his neck, prompting a gradual shiver to throb down his back. The scent of familiarsafesecure has the animals tone down any reaction to the sensation he can now discern as Liam's head on his shoulder, one of his arms pulled tight to his side, also making it smush against Theo's right arm. Liam's everything is steady - scent, heart, body. It's unusual, to witness him so... soft and boyish.

Theo stares down at him, bewildered at the scene and the way the core of what makes them has combined into something he wants to fill his lungs with forever. He permits himself a moment of weakness, shifts his head the few centimeters needed for his nose to brush Liam's soft hair, bumps the tip of it to Liam's temple before he moves to look back at the ceiling. 

He closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. 

*

By the time Theo comes to Liam is already awake, sitting up in the bed with his back to the headboard while texting on his phone. Theo can't see the screen from his place but the way Liam is biting at his lower lip and by the uneasy aura surrounding him it's a high possibility he's in contact with either his mother or step-father. 

Theo is still on his back, in the same position with one hand on his abdomen, the other by his side. He woke up facing Liam, hasn't amended the position of his head. 

He sits up with a jolt, scaring the shit out of Liam who jumps and saves his phone from falling on the floor only thanks to his reflexes. 

"’Time is it?" Theo's words are sleep rough and sharper than he'd intended them to be. 

Liam swallows loudly, Adam's apple bobbing with it. He's doing the squinty-assessment thing, finds what he's searching for and eases out a breath. 

"Ten in the morning."

That's three hours past the alarm and the allotted seven hours of radio silence Argent permitted. 

Theo's phone sits on the nightstand, face down. The opposite way Theo placed it when they went to bed. 

"I texted Argent that we're awake." 

Liam blinks at him once, still as a tree trunk in anticipation of Theo's reaction to the matter at hand: Liam woke up first, before the alarm, which he then turned off, didn't wake Theo up on time and lied to Argent of their status. To what? Let Theo sleep in? They should have been in Colorado by now. 

What's done is done, though. 

Theo groans, leans forward to drag his hands down his face, then up and rearrange the hair that's insistent on obscuring his vision. He pulls at it once his fingers are buried in the strands, in a tactic to calm himself instead of lashing out. It's not like anger will solve anything at this point. That and he can't even make himself deny the result: the handful hours of more shut-eye have had a good effect. The proximity of another body next to his, of Liam next to him, kept his brain from spurring more nightmares. 

This might just be the longest duration of actually restful sleep he's had since before the skinwalker prison. It's been enough time for his body to recover from the dissociative episode. He doesn't even have the queasy feel in his stomach, usually persisting well over two hours upon him waking up. 

Just another Liam effect, he supposes. 

Liam grabs his arm when he makes to hop off the bed from his own side, so Theo turns to him. Liam is intent on the point of connection. Nothing happens. Pleased with the result, that there was no pain or excessive emotion for him to draw away, Liam's iron hold loosens but doesn't disappear. Not that Theo would have stayed long enough for either, but most definitely not for the latter.

Finally Liam looks at him, licks his lips and hesitates before throwing caution out of the window, "You okay?" he winces at his own indecisive tone. 

Theo can either pretend nothing happened, turn his back on his glaring problem in the form of ever-present nightmares that evoke such a strong reaction from his mind that he resorts to self-harm to bring himself back into the present. Or, to acknowledge the issue and give Liam an explanation, even one barely covering the expanse of the tip of the iceberg. 

Theo pulls a third option instead, the amenity that will allow him a few minutes to pick a way to proceed, and nods, doesn't elaborate. 

Liam is anything but surprised, adopting a stony expression. 

"Not now." Theo remedies. It doesn't help much, does enough to convince Liam to let go of him. 

The rag of a shirt is still on the floor of the bathroom, with marks of dried up blood on the exposed parts, still damp in the sections of the multiple folds created upon Theo discarding it carelessly a few hours ago. He kicks the door closed, not before catching the sigh. 

His hearing is automatically extended, as are all of his senses by now. Liam cracks two knuckles, aborts the action to crack his neck in two blunt snaps. Theo braces his palms on the cold edges of the sink, a familiar position usually done in grimy bathrooms very early in the morning or late in the night, eyes intent on his own reflection in the dirty mirror of whatever gas station he'd chosen for the closest he could get to proper clean up when he couldn't break into any houses. 

The mirror in front of him is clean, void of spots of time and built up dirt. He doesn't even look like he was walking the line between reality and his past last night. Plain old Theo. Hard angles and the smallest of bruising under his eyes, the particle his metabolism can't right. 

The door is yanked open all of a sudden, Liam holding the side of it in a sure grip, eyes the slightest bit wide. 

It brings Theo back to the night after Monroe made her escape. This time, though, Theo isn't digging bullets or bullet shards out of himself.

"Yes?" 

"I thought—" Liam sneaks quick peeks at either one of Theo's hands, still in their place at the sink, then at the ruined shirt on the floor to Theo's right. 

Here Theo could aim a jibe like glad you're capable of such a hard process or something of the like. He doesn't. Liam perceives the distinguished groove of its absence. 

Theo doesn't prompt him and Liam doesn't elaborate. 

What Liam does is to leave the door open, to the point it had stood at when he'd initially hurled himself through it. He sits down on his own bed, half lying down with his back to the headboard. He's also a shitty at deception, meaning Theo can tell Liam is scarcely paying attention to his phone. 

Theo faces skyward, straightens. He places the index and middle fingers of his left hand above his nape, atop the Atlas vertebrae and applies pressure down, until his head lilts forward. Then he applies the exact same pressure in the opposite direction, head naturally falling back. He repeats this four times before he lets his head drop back entirely, index and middle finger trapped under the back of his skull and his vertebrae, with a tiny crack. A dulcet wave courses down his back, soft and soothing, like dipping your legs inch by inch in warm, steaming water after being out in the cold all day.

Theo keeps the position for three breaths, eyes closed, face towards the ceiling. He'd accidentally stumbled upon this technique, back when he was freshly thirteen. There isn't a logical reasoning to it, really. It's like a calming, trusted palm on the back of his neck that traces his spine in a languid caress. He supposes it's the direct stimulation to the nervous system itself that releases endorphins in his brain, which in turn causes the shift in mood. 

When he opens his eyes he's faring a hair better, almost comfortable and in tune with his body again. 

From this angle he can see Liam's partial reflection in the mirror, as well as his surprised mug. Blue eyes grow rapidly, studiously shift down to his phone upon being caught. He looks back up shortly after, unable to restrain his nosiness. Theo lifts his brows, blinks slowly.

"What did you do?" 

Theo raises a shoulder. "Something that stuck, I guess."

"No, but. What does it do?" there's an underlying meaning there. "How did you do it?"

"You literally just saw me." Theo waves a hand, takes his toothbrush from the plastic cup. 

"No, I get that. How did you level the stress out of your scent that fast? Is it a wolf thing? Or a chimera thing?"

He can't deny it's endearing, in a way, Liam being comfortable enough with him to exhibit such unregulated inquisitiveness. He's even stopped pretending all his focus isn't on Theo. 

Theo answers when he's done brushing his teeth. "I just popped a nitrogen bubble in the upper cervical spine area. You get the same feeling when you crack your knuckles."

"Oh, I definitely don't get that reaction when I pop my knuckles, dude. Or I'd be the calmest guy on the planet." 

“It’s a direct stimulation to the nervous system.”

Liam leaves his phone on one thigh, straightens and tries to execute the same process. His mistake is that he's impatient and too quick with the motions, completely ignoring the idea it's centered around, mainly using it as a grounding action to focus yourself back into your body. He frowns at Theo when nothing of the reaction Theo displayed graces him. 

Theo shakes his head as he steps out of the bathroom, "It doesn't work like that. It's not supposed to be quick." he turns the TV on, flicks through channels to get to any type of news and lowers the volume to minimum. 

There's nothing of interest for them yet, it seems. He developed the habit after his horror road trip with Alec, paranoid that he'll miss Monroe's next move if he doesn't pay attention to the smallest of broadcasts. It was, after all, a bout of luck that he'd landed on that news channel back then. They need to find a pattern, and soon at that, or they risk losing. And a war lost with that human monster will bode an Apocalypse for anybody with supernatural origin. Even those who affiliate themselves with people like Theo and Liam won't be spared, will be marked as suspects and monitored closely for potential 'suspicious activities'. It's a catastrophe in the making. Genocide.

Liam, unaware of the thoughts ramming about in Theo's head, continues on trying Theo's stress relief method to no avail. 

Theo opens up a few more news sites he'd bookmarked on his phone, to check for any new murders or re-opened cases. Some of the other packs in on the Monroe hunt have hands in police force and other branches of the FBI, have steered investigation after investigation ever since Agent McCall was able to loosely tie her to the slaughter near Glendale where Theo found Alec. It's been a massive boost of intel since then. They might not have a pattern, but they've managed to keep track of her. 

He doesn't know why yet, but he's certain there's something looming on the horizon. Like a chilly feeling slathering his insides with slime, his sixth sense on a red alert. She's gonna do something drastic soon, or she's at risk of losing fellow psychopathic followers who might develop a bigger god complex than her. 

Half an hour later they're at a diner for breakfast, all their belongings in the truck. Liam's incessant staring hasn't stopped. If anything, it's weightier than ever. It's on the tip of his tongue, to ask and seek answers to last night's episode. He's on the verge of it, shoveling eggs into his mouth with his whole face tense. 

Theo levels him a look, cuts a piece of sausage with his fork to stab over the piece of toast he'd already torn off. Liam's eyes are near electric, both color and intensity. 

"Are you sure we should be going to Colorado?" 

And there it is. 

"Didn't know Monroe cares about our mental state, should put that on her case." 

"You know that's not what I mean." Liam hisses, drops his utensils with a clatter on his mostly empty plate. "What happens if you go through that again, huh?"

"A little panic attack? How will I ever live after another one of those? Guess we'll—"

Liam slams one palm on the table, effectively making every single object on it rattle ominously, as well as attract the attention of not so few bystanders. Theo sips at his water nonplussed, blinking slow and unamused.

At least Liam's next words, if veiled in sharp warning, are so low no human can catch them, "You had an entire dissociative episode and you're fucking joking about it?"

Theo lifts a shoulder, set on finishing his breakfast. It might not be as important to Liam, but it is to him. Any meal is sacred, be it small or regular. He never knows when he'll have to calculate how much food he can intake to have sufficient money for gas and water again. He diligently polishes his plate, grateful that this time it's not another animal he had to hunt in his wolf form to tame the aching clench of his starving stomach. 

Liam gives him the silent treatment afterwards, doesn't even pipe in when Theo calls Argent for an update. It's only when Theo rings Alec up that the poignant smell of his peppery anger envelops the truck further. 

"Have you practiced what I told you?"

"Yeah. Kinda."

"Alec."

Alec sighs, continues in a soft but upset tone, "I'm trying. It's just too…” 

“Loud?” 

“Yeah. Don't get me wrong, I'm more than a little happy I have a stable roof over my head, courtesy of Derek, but the other tenants are so loud."

"That's why you have the music. But it won't protect you forever. You gotta face the rest of the crap sooner or later." Theo drums his fingers on the wheel. Liam shifts in his seat, crosses his arms over his chest tightly after having a tug war with the offending seat-belt.

"I know." Alec sounds so defeated that the wolf grumbles its discontentment, coyote not far behind. 

"Tell you what, next time we have a pit stop I'll walk you through some techniques I want you to try out. Just try. If it doesn't work - it doesn't work. We'll try something else. And talk to Derek, dammit, he—"

"Has more knowledge than you do. Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. Funny thing is, he says the exact same thing about you." 

Theo doesn't know how to accept that fact, opts to digest it later.

"Quit bitching."

"And start doing, I know. Aye aye, Cap'n."

Theo's mouth pulls in a barely there smile and Alec hangs up after the promise that Theo will call him back soon. 

It's another twenty kilometers before Liam finally gives into his emotions. "What's up with you and Alec?" it's aimed to be blasé, falls so far off the intended target that it's a wee bit painful to watch the fail. 

"Kid needs guidance and decided I'm the best database for whatever reason."

Liam faces him, gaze hot without Theo even turning towards him. It brings a wave of something akin to bad butterflies of anticipation, that swoop you get when you know something unpleasant is going to happen with or without your hand to steer it - a fight, an event out of your control, the last moment before tragedy strikes. 

Liam snorts, shakes his head and looks away.

And Theo's had it. "What's up with you and Alec? He do something for you to put him on your naugty list?"

Liam freezes, like it hadn't crossed his mind that Theo would dig into the obvious strain between Liam and Theo's almost protégé. 

"No, no, go on. Where's that sass when I actually confront you about it, hmm?" Theo makes a wide arc with his right hand, puts it back on the wheel a moment later. 

"That's rich, seeing as you avoid talking about quite literally anything not concerning strategies like the plague."

"Oh, he can speak. That's good to know. For a moment there, I thought you'd—"

Liam issues a threatening growl, potent enough to make Theo's wolf snarl in his head.  "Cut that out."

"Fine." Theo mutters, doesn't say another word for fifty kilometers. If that's the game of childish tricks they're gonna play - fucking fine. 

Liam stews in whatever shit his brain feeds his indignation, grip on the handle of the door so fierce that the leather creaks every time his fingers move even the slightest bit. The next few check-ins with Argent are short, the man as canny as always picks up on the tense atmosphere between Theo and Liam. 

It's when Theo enters the city holding an unknown to its inhabitants death lab that unwanted recollections start to trickle in, setting a tone for complete anarchy in his head. The afterimages are bright, with Theo catching glimpses of scenes long past at nearly every sidewalk. He knows everybody he's come in contact with in this lively town, knows all the ideal places for abduction or luring. 

So focused on not crashing the truck, he forgoes fully cloaking his body's signals. That is until Liam takes notice of the bits of pieces that have slithered past Theo’s defense. At the first inquisitive noise, one Liam might not be aware of producing, Theo gets everything in check - pulse, scent, body language, all under wraps. A bit too late, though.

"Hey." Liam's unsure fingertips are near scalding when they come in contact with Theo's right hand currently clenching on the gearshift. "Theo?"

Theo tilts his head in Liam's direction, to once again avoid answering verbally. It's astonishing how acutely he feels Liam's touch, even when it's on such a small scale. 

Theo almost misses the red light, the seat-belts abrasive when they keep them from colliding with the windshield, flinging them back into their seats. In the short span of time of the event, Liam's hot palm had covered the back of Theo's hand, fingers clutching hard, almost to the point of breaking bone. It stays there for the few seconds it takes Liam to snap out of it, taking the heat with himself. 

Theo might be a knock-off but he also has an identical metabolism. Well, as identical as it can get. He's a furnace to a human, but still heals slower than an actual were-whatever. For Liam's hand to feel sizzling to him he must be truly out of whack. It's like yesterday all over, the ice circulating in his insides a contrast to the sweat beading on the surface. 

He wipes his brow with a sleeve, confirming it when the cotton dabs away at the moisture gathered there. 

Fuck.

That's not even close to good. He's reacting before he's stepped foot in the operating theater. It can't be worse than him with his chest cavity open to bleed out and scarcely miss the no return mark. But now that he actively tries to seek out memories he can't grasp the reason the Doctors wanted to strike precisely this town. He's only aware there's a lab here, the rest of it like the insistent flash of a camera in his eyes - bleeding into his retinas for a few moments before it goes away. 

"Do not," he startles himself, his words like shards of freshly broken glass - pointy, potentially deadly if underestimated. "fucking touch me right now."

Liam had tried to land a hand on Theo's shoulder. That same hand recoils, Liam hitting himself in the chest with how fast he takes it away. 

Theo immediately seeks out a more secluded area, parks the truck. The moment the engine is out, he digs the thumb of his right hand into the middle of his left one, pushing and pushing 'till pins and needles stem from the epicenter and shoot out to his middle and index fingers. A shiver streams down his back. He doesn't want to remember. 

He doesn't want to remember. Whatever happened here is in the past. 

He doesn't want to remember. 

"Theo!" 

The yell shocks him, sounding like there's been previous attempts to get Theo's attention. Liam takes advantage, rips his hands apart and even though the manner is hurried he's watchful of his strength. 

Theo's claws have sprouted at some point, having dug into the opposite hand. Fucking shit, he wasn't even aware of the pain, as during all the times he'd harmed himself in a last ditch attempt to bring himself back to here, now.

He expects Liam to explode, to prevent them from getting any closer to the theater but he's just gazing at Theo with this lost and concerned look. Disbelief and distress painted across his features, caught off guard with the unexpected turn. He seems to recall Theo's threat from earlier, makes to let go, then with a look to the bloodied claws and both of the injured sides of Theo's left palm he backpedals.

Liam's mouth pinches firmly with his other palm rucking up Theo's sleeve, to expose more of his skin, and holds on tight. Nothing happens. Liam's frown depends, fingertips digging in a bit harder, and still - nothing.

"Adrenaline." Theo whispers. "I can't feel the pain because of the adrenaline." 

He's started coming off it, but by now he's all healed up, the only evidence of the scene being the quickly drying blood. 

“We’re going back.” Liam states firmly, like he honestly believes Theo will actually listen to his command.

As if.

“We’re already here.” Theo reaches for the glove box, opens it with the claw of his pinky that is miraculously unstained and snatches a long forgotten packet of antibacterial wet wipes he hopes hasn’t dried out. He’s in luck and manages to wipe the blood away with the mostly functional wipe he tugs out of the package.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Liam spits it out in an interesting mixture of venom and disorientation, unable to make the same linkage Theo finds in his own thought process.

Theo doesn't look his way, “Pre or after hell?”

Liam flinches back with his whole body, a small, wounded noise just starting in his throat, unable to crawl up. It’s a conglomeration of emotions after that, ranging in amplitude and duration, each adding up to the stacking layers of scents in the truck.

Theo got what he deserved. It’s not fair to Liam to stab him in the back with the idea that Theo's the way he is now because of the place they sent them to, but they have a mission at hand. Theo won’t let Liam’s annoying radar of justice and worry stall them any longer. They’ve lost more than enough time after Liam let him sleep in.

Theo builds his walls from the ground as they walk to the theater, layering his defenses, abolishing the threats that have any potential to collapse them or pose a future inconvenience. Liam keeps gritting his teeth, the sound of them grinding together one of the few sounds between them. In spite of the mental preparation, Theo's legs still stop just a foot away from the entrance. 

Liam has already entered, one hand around the strap of the backpack with the supplies he'd carried. He halts, head tilting a notch, turns back to look at him from the shadows. 

Kinda ironic, how their places in the world of metaphors have switched. Theo in the light, Liam in the darkness. Maybe, if Theo was in a more introspective place, he'd say it's Theo with his back to the light and Liam the sole radiant speck in the abyss of shadows, as though the black mass makes space for him to step.

Theo has no idea what face he's making, how many cracks Liam can catch, but the hard edge of his eyes lessens and understanding floods the storm, taking away its fire. Liam erases the distance separating them, stops only when there's scant space between the fronts of their boots. 

"We can always go back." he murmurs, no accusation or emotion detectable. Just a suggestion, but made so that it's all Theo's choice, with no room for any of Liam's doubts and nays.

A choice. He's giving Theo the control to write the following steps.

How he switches between his usual knucklehead state and this one, where Theo has trouble reading him with a ninety-nine point nine percent accuracy, is beyond him. If Theo didn't know him and saw him only in these instances he'd presume Liam is a relatively calm individual, with a tight grip on his inner world. This is how he could be without the IED's constant warning shots and interfering nature messing with Liam's natural equilibrium. Hell, this might be Liam in a few years, after he's stepped on his two feet with confidence only age and life's experiences can grant you access to. 

For now, this is Liam putting on his big boy shoes for when Theo skids on the ice holding him from sinking into a deep, piranha-filled lake of memories.

"I have to take care of this."

A splinter in the calm façade, Liam's eyes pinching along with his mouth. "Why? Why are you so hell bent on doing it?"

Theo shakes his head, refuses to even try and put the whirlpool in his head into words with meaning.

"I get it. You want to repent for—for what you've done, what you've helped them achieve, but what good is the penance if you're dead before you can reap any benefits from it?" 

Liam still has the strap around his shoulder in a tight grip, clenches his other hand into a fist only to thump it with not a small amount of force against Theo's sternum, positioned like he's pounding on a door.

"You don't accept help." Liam thumps his fist a second time. "You don't let anybody in." And a third. "You keep silent about all the shit going on in your mind." And a fourth. "And you expect to stay alive when your best way of dealing is through isolation and self-inflicted pain? You're far from stupid, Theo." the soft tone is in opposition with the weight of the words. Then, even softer, "You know there's only one end to this."

Theo lets their eyes meet. Liam is trying so hard to contain everything else he wants to scream in Theo's face, eyes the only indicator that there's much more he'd like to add to this lovely exchange.

Theo reaches out, covers Liam's hand with his own for a brief moment, squeezes it once before he slowly removes it. 

Whether under Liam's influence or not, Theo's voice is just as soft when he answers, "I think we can both agree that I kinda deserve the plate I got and that nobody is obliged to help the murderer turned ally."

Liam's head tilts at a dangerous angle, upper lip twitching like it wants to lift it and bare teeth, emotion and logic having a clash behind his eyes. He's buzzing in place, not with anger. Inability to express himself, perhaps. 

Theo lets their shoulders brush when he steps into the theater.

It's all deep breathing from then on. 

Deactivate, destroy anything of use, take the wolfsbane strains they don't have as of yet, shove any physical files in the backpack Liam took. No straying. Familiar motions and engagement to maintain a clear head. 

Liam is just as silent and meticulous, the burning presence of his gaze on Theo the only giveaway that he's just following the mood and flow of Theo's work. He makes no acknowledgement of the tremor in Theo's hands, nor the seemingly random flinches of phantom recollections Theo can't stop. 

The cold sweat is back, shirt once more plastered to his back. Fire on his skin, ice in his veins. Theo braces himself on the operating table, eyes half-mast to wait it out. The steel edges dig into the meat of his palms, metal warming under his touch as it takes on his body heat. Liam makes a step in his direction, forgoes interfering. Instead he carries on like Theo isn't entirely indisposed.

Splat, his mind reminds him, the sound of the collision with the floor loud and wet, just as disturbing as the sight. Then, the trickle of blood onto the grimy tiles, let loose from gaping arteries.

Drip, drip, drip. 

Theo standing in the corner of the theater. The severed head's eyes blink, a thin sheen of tears coating them, and the girl's mouth opens with no sound. It takes a full minute before the light dims away and her eyes become unseeing, still aimed at him. Theo staring at the spot long after one of the Doctors retrieves the head, like it's a thing and not once a part of a person, and aligns it with the neck. They'd wanted to see if her healing was just as promising as it had looked at the start. She remained dead.

Present Theo's claws had come out at some point, piercing the operating table, and for more than a few seconds all he can see is the girl. Twelve, nice brown eyes, even prettier hair. They'd been the same age, then. 

The next time he blinks Liam is on the opposite side of him, also braced on the table. Most of his hair is in his face, eyes gleaming and full of life, not even close to murky. Then he leans in, stops just before he's breached too much of Theo's personal space. Gold flickers into existence and Theo feels his own eyes react to the prompt, just a habitual thing, not posturing. He's too busy observing the fierce pulse of Liam's irises, until the color burns itself into his retinas and it's almost akin to staring directly at the strong summer sun. 

Theo's shoulders loosen, though another cold shiver slides over his skin, trying to pull him back into the past. Liam's brows twitch into a frown, smooth out a second later. He leans in further, the glow of his shift taking over most of Theo's field of vision. 

It's as mesmerizing as those black and white optic illusions that fuck with your perception, hence why it does the trick. Theo's breathing matches with Liam's steady one.

Theo's eyelids drop fully with a quiet sigh that sends a last shiver to his limbs, this time an aftershock rather than a marker for an impending disaster. He's found himself in the state he scarcely enters, of impulsiveness. 

One tilt is all it takes and damn his stupid streak: he takes it. Their foreheads touch, Liam's pulse jumping at the bizarre action. The contact lasts for a total of three seconds of blind and buzzing quiet before Theo makes himself step away and finish up with the theater deactivation. Liam stays at the table for almost an entire minute, mobilizing himself at the last second. 

Not a single word is shared between them until they're at another motel and Liam tells him to take the first shower while he goes out to get food. He has an arm extended, for the truck keys. 

"I'll be careful. And I saw a restaurant on the way here." Liam says at Theo's reluctance. 

Somehow Theo doesn't doubt that first part. He throws Liam the keys and his wallet, goes for his shower when the truck leaves the parking lot. The entire time under the water spray he's on high alert, ears peeled for any and every tiny sound. 

Liam gets back ten minutes after Theo is done, two full plastic bags worth of takeout wrapped around one wrist. Theo's appetite is nonexistent, not with the fresh set of recollections. He can't even look at meat. Which is something Liam must have taken in regard because Theo's pile of food consists mostly of noodles, vegetables and a ginormous salad dripping in dressing. 

Liam offers no explanation at Theo's questioning stare, heads to the bathroom, seemingly in a new installment of overthinking. The call with Argent is quick and no nonsense, just a relevant data report. Theo shoots Alec a few texts, asking for a rain-check on that phone call. Alec doesn't hide the concern, yet makes no attempt to push for answers he knows he won't receive. As insightful as always.

They eat while watching the news, Theo going on autopilot to get in the calories his body needs to function. Liam had even snatched a few more dressing packets, for bonus fats and energy. The salad is already swimming in it, but hey, fast metabolisms require adequate nourishment. And there's satisfaction from Liam as he observes Theo pour in all four of the packets, then drink the leftover oil and spices. Which is disgusting, but necessary. Theo shudders after the last swallow. 

He lies down on his designated bed afterwards while Liam texts on his phone, the taps of his fingertips on the screen fast and rhythmic. He lies to himself that he'll monitor the news with his eyes closed, to give one of his senses a break, falls into the world of neither awake nor asleep in a matter of two to three minutes. He's aware enough to catch the lack of tapping, as well as the moment it resumes but is too deep in the pool already, perceiving it in passing. 

He comes to and the room is submerged in shadows, no source of light available with the curtains drawn tightly together. Liam is once again curled next to him, Theo having moved in his sleep to accommodate him. His head is swimming, from incoherence and sleep. 

Waking Liam up would be too much of a hassle at this point. He'd have to deal with the grumpiness, then listen to the bitching all day. Plus, he probably had good intentions at heart, as always, and wanted to help Theo catch more restful sleep. That at least has been a mission successful thus far. 

Theo's vision goes fuzzy, body fighting tooth and nail to topple him back into the land of sleep, so much so that he's too tired to change his position or pull down the blanket Liam must have maneuvered from under him to throw over him. A small mercy is that they're under different covers, if anything. 

His eyes close out of their own volition, lizard brain forcibly shoving aside the part of him that's sending a red alert in the form of you didn't ping Argent up, you fucking dumbass.

Liam has probably taken care of that, too. So Theo sleeps.

*

And apparently sleeps for so long that it's near lunch by the time he's conscious again. The gentle taps of Liam's fingers on his phone screen, that's the first thing he focuses on, still waist deep in the hazy mist of his last dream.

The tapping turns out to be a lot more furious than he'd originally thought, proven by the sight of Liam with his back to the headboard, brows furrowed and jaw working. He's too engrossed to even notice the change to Theo's pulse and breathing. He has to learn to be more alert than that.

Theo reaches to brush Liam's outer thigh with the knuckles of his fingers. Even in the relative darkness of the room the blue of his eyes is just as entrancing as in daylight. What initially starts as a look of concern mellows out to a flat line of soft features with no worry.

"Hey."

Theo ticks a brow up. Liam is defensive, giving a half shrug when he counters Theo's no doubt sour expression, "It's not eleven yet, still relatively early."

If Theo's calculations are right he's been out for at least thirteen hours, bordering on fourteen. He breathes out a sigh, hands coming up to his face to rub the sleep off his eyes and formulate an explanation that Argent might consider before he chops the seven hours to three and tells Theo to compartmentalize as he’s always done.

Theo freezes, head snapping in Liam’s direction. The rascal is texting from Theo’s phone. 

“Yeah. Took you long enough. I already talked to him, it’s fine.”

Theo shakes his head, makes the choice to not elaborate in place of a fight that might have occurred had he been just the tiniest bit more on edge. Argent is gonna do his scolding behind closed doors, during a one on one with Theo himself, currently just feeding Liam what he wants to hear to placate him and keep his nose out of their little deal. Argent needs the frequent check-ins as a scant dose of antivenom to his paranoia that Theo will cut loose and fuck them over. Again. 

It’s no use explaining all of that to Liam when it’ll have the opposite effect and start a forest fire that will do more harm to Theo’s packed schedule. Better just not say a damn thing, really.

“What?” Liam makes to stand up as Theo throws himself out of the bed. Theo intercepts him, grabs the hand that almost makes contact with his forearm and flares his eyes once, just an abrupt pulse of gold. A warning. 

Don’t continue this unless you want it to get ugly.

Liam punches a pillow once Theo has barricaded himself in the bathroom. Sooner or later he’ll grow to understand that good intentions do not always pave good outcomes, that sometimes one should help only when they’ve been asked for said help, rather than spew the dying breath of their last two brain cells on the matter.

Only once he’s halfway through brushing his teeth does he have enough of a grip on himself to go retrieve the phone, previously afraid he’ll lash out at the slightest hint of a provocation. He even manages to be collected about the whole thing, carries on with the brushing while he snatches his phone back. Unfortunately Liam is quick to send the paragraph he’d been typing out before Theo does so. Theo calmly types out a Got the phone back, ignore him and slides the device in the pocket of his sweatpants.

It buzzes against his thigh, Theo picking it back in his hand once he toes the bathroom door shut. It's his own damn fault for not putting a longer lock code. Argent is highly unmoved from Liam's act of self-righteousness and mock divine intervention. Apparently he'd reckoned this would happen eventually, be it from Scott or Liam, had accounted for it better than Theo had. 

Theo waits out Argent to write whatever novel he's put his head into, as he scrolls up the correspondence to skim over the bull Liam had sprouted while scrubbing the toothbrush over his molars. ‘It’s not fair, people deserve more time to sleep, do you have any idea how tired he is’ and blah, blah, blah. Liam, the righteous teenager, as always. Nothing new under the sun.

Theo starts planning his next moves. They’ve barely gone through three theaters, that’s just laughable. He’d wanted at least five to be off the list of forty-five in the span of a week. The tempo they’re keeping will prove that impossible, what with Liam’s absence from school and the wobbly web of lies he’s woven around his parents. The maximum amount of time he can be absent is probably six.

Meaning they might be able to deactivate just one more before they have to go back. Although, maybe going back now is better. Leave Liam back at Beacon Hills and go solo, translating to more down time in private, where he can recuperate on his own terms with no witnesses present.    

Argent sends him a sequence of texts just as Theo rinses his mouth. The first one, containing the more vital info, catches his eyes.

From: Argent

> Mason is sure that Liam’s parents are onto their lies, as well as the weird behavior. They're both panicking and making mistakes.

He must have wondered how to phrase this in a way that won't ring too many alarm bells in Theo's head and simultaneously to warn him that they have to abandon the current plan. 

From: Argent

> From what I know, they've been trying to unsuccessfully cover their tracks. His step-father is asking too many questions, his mother not far behind.

Fucking shit. Time to repress the anger aimed at his own self for not stepping his foot down when Liam tried and succeeded to butt into the deactivation spree. He then texts Argent to confirm he's understood the underlying command to get their asses back.

Theo breathes deep for a minute straight, edge of the phone digging against his lower brow, the hand holding it resting against the bridge of his nose. The wolf is moodier, miffed by the restrictions that came out of nowhere. 

He exits the bathroom when his chemo signals are even, starts packing without a word. 

"Wha—wait just a sec, what about breakfast?"

Theo pauses, eyes shifting from the duffel bag to Liam. "We're going back." he supplies no further info, but whatever is etched into his expression currently is enough to deter Liam's pettiness. 

He asks only one thing, "Is everybody home alright?"

"They're fine."

"Then why are we going back?" the petulance is back, Liam pissed he's being kept out of the loop, even while exhibiting signs of reluctant antagonism.

"I don't know. Why don't you ask Mason?" that shuts him up, heart skipping a beat with the tangy scent of stress starting to clog Theo's nose.

And in ten minutes they're in the truck, speeding down the highway. Theo puts on the radio when Liam tries to start a conversation. It's uncalled for and more than a little selfish, as well as close to throwing a fit. Liam doesn't really deserve the treatment for trying to help him in the sole way he thought possible. But. They've been lying their assess off, poorly at that, the low quality of which isn't what Theo expected from Mason of all people.

Human he may be, but he's also one of the smartest additions to Scott's pack. That leaves Liam at the end of the ultimate decision-making and at the head of what Theo can only imagine be a ginormous fuck up that Mason has just barely saved from becoming a clusterfuck. He doesn't even want to think how Scott and the others got involved in this 'neat' little orchestra of chaos.

Still, wrath solves nothing. It won't turn back time, only result in an emotional reaction that will bode well for nobody in the equation they've landed themselves into. 

What he can do is brainstorm a way to soften the fallout. If Liam's parents choose to confront him Liam will lose his footing no matter how well he might have prepared himself for the hypothetical scenario. Theo has a single interaction with them to go with, a small, yet vital set of information. They won't guilt trip Liam in any way. The worst outcome is how sad they'll be, that Liam felt the urge to lie to their faces instead of just telling them. And they all know how well Liam will respond to their hurt, one that he himself has caused. 

That's if he doesn't go with the lycanthropy presentation. Theo hopes he won't. The piling and hectic murders of Monroe keep digging into Liam's resolve to behave like an adult at an alarming rate. He's a step away from losing control of himself—the fury, the fear, the hatred and lament, all of it—with bone-melting magma writhing under the sealed off peak. Just a matter of time. The reveal will serve as a catalyst for it.

"What's the cover?" Theo asks as he lowers the volume of the radio.

Liam takes a rattled breath, heart stopping for a second before its ba-thump, ba-thump increases in force tenfold. Theo knows exactly what follows after that type of breathing pattern, it's the reason he opens the conversation when they're in a relatively secluded area he can quickly veer out of and park somewhere off the road. He does just that, swerves the wheel and makes way along the bigger spaces between the trees. Liam bolts out of his seat just as Theo slows the truck to a halt.

Hands in his hair, scent sour with sweat, with anxiety and fear, he takes a few steps and stumbles. Theo fights the instinct to comfort, worrying that if he intervenes he's operating on too much power and not letting Liam take care of his problems at his own pace and on his own terms. Then he remembers the past few nights, Liam sidestepping the unwritten rules just to grant Theo a few hours of rest, never prodding beyond what Theo is willing to give him, as patient as Theo has ever seen him. 

(Caring. 

Caring is the word, but that just shouldn't be exercised for somebody like Theo. So he shoves the word out of his mind like he's hurling an overflowing suitcase out of a window.)

Theo gets out of the truck, walks over to the passenger's side and makes Liam sit down on the forest floor, not taking it personally when Liam flinches as though he's been struck. He sits down too, to urge Liam's head forward and down, until it falls between his raised and shaking knees. Theo makes to remove his hand from Liam's nape, is intercepted by two clammy hands reaching up to pin it there, one palm clasped on top of the other and both of them anchoring Theo's hand in place. 

The sounds Liam keeps making, these high and distressed noises, as well as the scent of salt, further shatter Theo's intention of not taking action upon his own selfishness. The wolf is responsive to the high tension and distress, to an extent that Theo is unsuccessful at leashing it, close to giving up in to it. And the coyote, well. It's begging to offer more contact as a soothing salve to the emotional burns. But this isn't about either one of the animals, or Theo.

"Liam."

Liam's grip grows tighter, shoulders lifting to his ears as he shakes his head, like he thinks Theo will admonish him or let go. 

Theo hesitates, juggles some phrases in his head to find the least cutting one, tells him, "We'll figure it out." 

Even if he means it, he knows this is just a partial culmination of Liam's emotions trying to burst out, and in a desperate attempt to block them he's hurt himself. It isn't even half of what's to come.

So he lets Liam shake it out, his only intervention being to tap his thumb and actually make himself a useful anchor. He'll think about the consequences later, when he's not at war with his animal sides and fighting to maintain a blank page scent-wise in order to lure Liam back. He's this close to saying fuck it and press their heads together, crowd in closer. But that's inching a step to the door he's locked—the one serving as the last blockade prohibiting him from acting out on his thoughts—and he's too afraid to trust himself to retreat after this moment has passed.

He settles on a middle ground of reaching out with his free hand, slow and uncertain, lays it on top of Liam's. He'd hunched in on himself to do so, also with his knees up to his chest. And Liam is so trusting of him, deliberately granting him access to one of his most vulnerable parts, both metaphorically and physically. Not even thinking about the invisible layers upon layers of blood on those same hands touching him, the rot that Theo sometimes sees when his mind gets too dark and twisted, sociopathy previously aimed at everybody else now pointed at his own self. His own inquisitor. Fitting, really.

A phantom pain starts in his chest, the sensation of empty space where Tara's heart should be. The phantom squelch of her ripping it out. The phantom afterimage of her holding it close to his face, her head tilted to mock him, I got it back, see?

Theo loses time. When he refocuses Liam is staring at him from between his knees, only his eyes visible, red and shining with tears that hold onto his lashes. The healing hasn't let them get puffy. He's tired and drained from his own emotions, kinda numb-looking in the aftermath of them.

His voice is dull when he says, "We should go."

Theo looks him over for any remnants of the internal tsunami. Upon reaching the conclusion that Liam is more likely to fall asleep than to make a repeat of the meltdown in the near half an hour, Theo nods. Should he say something? He probably should, reassure Liam's fidgeting state and seeking eyes. In the end Theo turns him around, a palm on each shoulder, to take the steps separating them from the truck and sit him down. From the back he digs out a water bottle and two protein bars. All items he hands to Liam who keeps on staring up at him, not worried but in need of something that Theo can't place or provide. Liam seems to realize Theo’s inability to give him whatever he’s seeking, shakes his head like one would at thinking of an awful idea, and unwraps the protein bar.

He's asleep five minutes after he's done with the majority of the bottle and food, jacket bunched up against the window as a cushion. 

In the five hours Liam stays under he has six nightmares, all of which Theo subdues by the slightest brush of the back of his fingers to Liam's arm. Liam always startles in his sleep by the touch, then settles almost immediately after with a sigh. Theo doesn't stop once for more than a few minutes to update Argent via text, determined to reach their destination as soon as possible.

Theo is aware he's not the only one with ghoulish night visitors, he's just postponed thinking about it. Not because he doesn't care, quite the opposite. He cares too much now. His plan of strategy was to give himself time to create distance and lower the chance of disturbance to his emotional status when it comes to Liam. Now it's all gone to shit of course, like most of his plans seem to. It's incessantly starting to feel like balancing a high Jenga tower on a waterbed in a fishing boat, as in near impossible. 

Needless to say his current plan of making the drive back in one go also tumbles. He could do it if he was on his own, has achieved the state of zoning out while also staying coherent enough for his senses to guide him in case of any nearing road accident. And sleep be damned with his default state being sleep deprived. Liam is another story. He can't stay cooped up in a car for this long, especially when he's plagued by whatever gruesome dreams his brain has decided to bestow him with. 

So at least one motel stop, for Liam to walk it off and sleep some in an actual bed if they're lucky. Possibly two, as Theo doesn't know what to use as a diversion without stirring bad memories that will undoubtedly result in a prissy mood or worse, another near panic attack state.

He's just about to start formulating a sketch for his next road trip of doom when Liam comes to, gasping with his heart going as fast as the truck is speeding on the highway. 

"Wha—" Liam clicks his tongue, heaves a sigh as he brings a hand up to his eyes, index finger and thumb rubbing harshly into the delicate skin there. "Seriously? Five hours. Have you stopped even once? Actually, don't answer that, of course you haven't."

Liam cracks his neck, followed by each and every knuckle of his fingers, along with his wrists and ankles, in an attempt to raise a response from Theo. Not that it works. Theo just can't determine whether he's itching for a fight or solely wants for Theo to quit the stoicism and behave like a teenager for once. Which, ha, not happening, Theo doesn’t have that luxury either.

He surprises Theo with a dull and lacking silence for a few minutes before, "Stop at the next gas station, I gotta piss. And you probably need it, too." 

He unlocks his phone, promptly starts typing quickly. Whatever he sees amps up his aggravation, has him swallow and try to take a calming breath while he waits for whoever is on the other side to text him back. Theo is betting on either one of his parents.

Then the phone rings, surprising them both, difference being that Theo doesn't almost start to hyperventilate. Liam picks up after his thumb misses the green circle on his screen four times in a row.

"Hey, mom." his voice is so lost and fractured, nothing like what he sounds on the daily. 

Jenna sighs on the other line, not in an accusatory way, has accepted the circumstances. "I don't know why you felt the need to lie and I'm trying in no way to take this to guilt trip lake, but kiddo…"

"I know. Not over the phone."

"I just need to know, are you okay? Are you safe?" she's doing her best to not let any negative sentiment coat her voice, without losing the concerned and more than a little frustrated parent side of it.

Theo immediately scents the salt and misery starting to pour out of Liam at a high speed. "Yeah, I. I promise I'm safe and I'm coming back home." in spite of the reassurance of the words, the quick and stuttery intonation is unable to facilitate the same dose of ease.

Jenna is by no means a dimwitted person, nor is she insensible, most likely weighing her next words with impeccable precision. She wants answers, but not enough to cause Liam more distress. 

"Keep me posted, okay?" it's not a command, a request more like. "You have any idea when you'll be back?"

"Um." Liam's neck cracks again, this time when he whips his head in Theo's direction. 

"Day and a half. Two max." Theo supplies, careful to be neutral. 

Liam parrots it back to her, fidgeting like a neurotic music box doll in his seat. Theo pays attention to the rest of the conversation just enough to be aware if he needs to tune in again, more focused on calculating the time it'll take them to be in an area where he can park again.

When the call is over, the rest of it filled with Liam reassuring her that he's alright and not in any type of danger (currently), Liam is in a place of almost terror. Identical to the deeply rooted instinct to freeze up in your place, hoping you'll be unnoticed if you just stay still, silent and unresponsive. 

Theo uses that moment to take his right hand off the wheel and push at Liam's knee, urge him to lift his left leg until he gets the idea. It's unsafe but Theo is careful, wouldn't initiate it if he hadn't weighed the pros and cons beforehand. Liam hangs his head between his knees again, legs awkwardly crowding him, clamps both of his own palms over his nape in midst of the tiny gulps of air he does manage to get into his lungs. Theo leaves his right hand on top of Liam's, almost tugs it back at the sudden movement beneath it but Liam just sandwiches it between his own two hands, no second thoughts. 

Theo hears his teeth clacking together, feels Liam's iron grip. 

"The sun. The moon. The—the truth." it's barely audible, last part hissed out, coated in helplessness. "The sun… the moon… fuck—"

Theo's awareness stretches to the thousands for signs of any cars on the road with them. It's fucked up, but the adrenaline of the situation brings him to what he likes to call the Calm Desert of his mind. Here, he's attuned to the tiniest of details, no matter their significance or lack thereof. Here, nothing can touch or affect him. 

The full on shivering takes over Liam when Theo cuts off the engine at the first opportunity to once again veer off the road and stop. It's barren, no audience or witnesses, the perfect location to settle for a second. There's even not so few heavy looking rocks for if Liam's fright manifests into anger, and a stretching field for them to land where there's no victims or potential damage except for the soil and whatever's left of the yellowing grass. 

Liam fights it, contains it halfway before it springs back to life in a millisecond. With his attempts to hack into the indisposition of his body he'd forgotten to channel the best easy remedy. There's a chance he simply doesn't want to involve the anchor debacle and Theo loathes to say it but he won't jeopardize the effort, even if its use will be of more aid, when he was the one who time and time again insisted that Liam find a substitute.

"You're in a house. Size, location, furniture, layout, time in space - all up to you." Theo starts, close to a whisper. "It's familiar, might even be boring on occasions. The people there are all welcome, nobody is out of place. Can you picture it?"

It's something Theo used as a kid, to cope when reality slammed the door in his face, then shoved him in the mud. Bittersweet and effective. Makes you think outside of what you were previously concerned with, if even for a few stolen moments, and sometimes it's that split second of the cogs glitching that brings you back. 

Liam's scent takes a few interesting turns; change is good, equals distraction. The hand covering Theo's keeps on trembling. Theo maintains the stillness of his own, doesn't attempt the pseudo heartbeat tap. It's awkward and his arm is starting to cramp up. He holds the position. 

Finally, after he doesn't know how long Liam's heart starts to settle, still in the high range, but not going as high as it'd initially started.

It's then that he drops a bomb on Theo.

"Hey, who's Bree?"

Theo pulls his hostage hand so hastily he nearly smacks himself with it, Liam flinching along at the abrupt movement. Theo is suddenly thrust between past and present, so much so that he can't even stomp down the signals, which are disastrous enough that Liam lifts his face from between his knees to look at him, regretting his question when he catches sight of whatever shit crawled on Theo's face.

Bree.

Short for Brianna. But she hated that name with a passion rivaling her love for rare stones and minerals, made everybody call her Brenna instead. Even her older brother, synonymous with influence and power, relented. Theo was the sole person she let give her a nickname. And Theo is the reason she's dead, the consequence to her incessant quest to befriend him.

Or, as the coyote had deemed her, the sister with the mangoes. That Bree. 

Even with his memories of her back he refrains even thinking about her with the nickname. It just hurts too much, has the crater of the wound split open further, the same crater he has for Tara. Figures he'll dream about it and sleep talk near Liam.

Theo gets out of the truck on numb legs, takes the pack of cigarettes and makes six attempts to light one up with his uncooperative thumb before the flame catches on the seventh. His first drag is so deep it stings all the way down his lungs, throat on fire. 

Liam stays in the car.

Theo is quick, what with the furious inhales that might legitimately hurt a human if attempted. It's funny how their next stop is a mere twenty silence-filled minutes later, at a gas station. Food, bodily needs, fuel and water. Theo almost gets an orange colored Gatorade, still stuck on Bree and her mango obsession. 

Liam offers to drive for a little while, with a bit more color on his cheeks after the food, also tries to apologize. Theo shakes his head for a no on both subjects, tells him to lose time on his phone or whatever, essentially closing all conversation for the next hour or so. 

The car still reeks of dread, so prevalent Theo can almost taste it. He tries to make a blueprint of his future theater deactivation, engaging and engaging to the point where both wolf and coyote are mute, just the detached human self at the front. 

Liam is close to starting a conversation a few times, gives up. 

Nevertheless Theo can't give a straight explanation that gives this any other label but impulsive: 

"Yao Feng's little sister."

Liam is so shocked his scent is clear for a full two seconds, then transforms into a cocktail of shit that Theo isn't sane enough to dissect. Most prevalent one is the anger at Yao Feng, or at past Theo who didn't warn them of how bad another memory manipulation would be for him after Lucia. It tapers out quickly enough after he submerges himself in thought.

Bree was close to a mix between Scott and Stiles, kindness and snark and wit, would act before fully thinking her steps through. It might be why Theo was so susceptible in the first place. At that time, the Doctors hadn't fully wiped all his sentiments towards those two and he could still remember with full clarity, of their friendship of the old and simple days where the supernatural world didn't exist. She pulled people in with her character, made just as many benign enemies with it, too. And on full moons she'd—

Theo's palms almost slip from the wheel.

The full moon. 

So wrapped up in his ghosts he'd skipped over the biggest fucking detail. As if to make a point, the enchanted handcuffs in Liam's duffel bag in the backseat clink together and he can't stop hearing them. They have, what, four hours before the moon rises? Even less, a glance at the clock confirms. He'd completely forgotten, a feat so rare he can hardly believe himself, genuinely shocked at his own behavior and usually impeccable—if not tampered with by the Doctors—memory. 

It's not like Liam has no control over the shift, but the signs of the pits in his mental walls don't really bring any comfort. In retrospect it was all there, snarling in Theo's face and he'd let it trickle past him. 

Not only that, this is also Alec's first full moon. He's left him all on his own, which sounds extremely self-centered as at the very least Derek and Scott will be with him. But the kid with his imprinting on Theo probably wanted Theo's guidance more than theirs. Fuck.

Okay. Stop and think, he tells himself. Liam is the easiest obstacle, but Alec will need a hand. Scott and Derek haven't texted him, be it due to the mission Theo is on or due to a lack of time with the problem at hand. Or, an overly bitter part of him drawls out, they don't trust him enough to notify him of Alec's state and their concerns with him.

Theo makes a pit stop to get food and water, as well as hair clippers, scissors and a beard trimmer, the itchy stubble and his overly long hair tempting him into buying the last three items after he debates it for a good ten minutes. The hair has been driving him insane, growing too fast to get used to it, then having the audacity to get in his eyes at every opportunity. He doesn't like owing anybody for the pretty much unneeded tools, but Liam has also been scratching his lower face because of the same uncomfortable feeling of not having a shave in more than a few days. And, well, one thought led to another.

Next is a motel, preferably with the least amount of inhabitants, a precaution against any worst case scenario playing out. He can't trust Liam's self control with his personal problems ringing constantly, with Monroe hanging over their heads. Better safe than sorry. 

It's only when Theo has checked them in that he lets himself breathe easily for a little while, before he grabs his phone and goes outside to call Alec in hopes of catching him before Scott and Derek take him into their hands. 

Liam pins him with a sharp look. "Where are you going?" with the moon just a few hours away he sounds gruff.

Theo waves his phone, earning a disbelieving and sour expression. The wall won't do anything for privacy. Theo just doesn't want that caustic gaze trained on him for the entire duration of the conversation, what with his demeanor changing each and every time Alec is involved. 

He doesn't wait for a retort, kicks the motel room closed behind him, a grouchy "Fuck you too." following him out.

He texts Alec first. If it's a bad time it's not worth complicating or worsening his circumstantial instability. The answer is near immediate, a subtle invitation to call wrapped up in Alec's jumbled up sentence.

"Hey."

"This sucks." it's so miserable that Theo winces in sympathy.

"That's an understatement. How're you holding up?"

"I wanna cancel my lycanthropy subscription. In none of the clauses did it state that full moons equal to a sudden bouts of rabies and an uncontrollable urge to maim anything with a pulse." speaking of, Alec's heart rate is clearly discernible through the connection, high and uneven, beats skipping at random intervals. "It's like all the progress got wiped, not even back to square one, more like five hundred steps back."

Theo leans on the wall next to the door, eyeing any passer by, sighs. "I didn't calculate the trip." it's as close to an apology as he can grit out, unused to those two words in his mouth to an extent where his tongue can't form them properly. 

Not because he's not sorry for anything, no. Sorry doesn't cut it for the shit he's done, it's useless as a remedy for the spilled blood and the past megalomania-fed actions. What's the point when it can't fix jack shit?

Alec being Alec hasn't got the slightest intention to use guilt as a weapon against him. "You're not my guardian, it's—I have to learn somehow, right?" but the laugh is forced, laced with the tiniest bit of hysteria.

He's been repeating those words to himself for a long time today, it seems.

"Scott and Derek know all the ways to help and ease you through it. You can trust them."

A beat of silence, then: "I kinda trust you more."

Theo needs a few seconds to gather himself. It's not anything new, but Jesus, this kid needs to work on his defunct self-preservation skills and learn how to turn to more trustworthy people. 

"Even so, I probably wouldn't have been able to give you the proper guidance. Don't forget - I'm a synthetic, not an original. I can barely feel anything on a full moon, whereas they do. Scott can still count as a fresh werewolf, he remembers his first one."

It is true. Theo isn't fully immune to it, only he utilizes it as a training course for the wolf and the coyote. It might have had a bigger pull when he was younger. He can't count on his mind to supply accurate intelligence, after the multiple corpses coming to light during the memory manipulations. 

"He's too nice. I'm not used to nice." Alec murmurs, sharing a secret he's unaware Liam is now privy to as well. "I know he doesn't do it on purpose, but sometimes it feels like a taunt. And it sounds so ungrateful, when, when he's trying his best in every single way." 

Theo doesn't need to be in his presence to smell the guilt on him. Alec isn't in the right headspace to hear it. Theo says it anyway. 

"Are you sure it feels like a taunt and not like your subconsciousness waiting for the other shoe to drop?"

There's a loud clatter from the other line, like Alec crashed into a table and half of the contents on it fell to their demise on the floor. 

"I—" Alec pauses, heaving a deep sigh. 

From the motel room, Theo catches Liam starting a call with Scott. Liam has been postponing it, as evident by Scott's worried murmurs, asking if he'll be okay with the shift, knowing that no matter what Liam's answer is that he won't be able to aid him with anything but words.

"You'll get through it. Just like every obstacle that's come your way."

"Not like I have a choice."

"No. But you won't be alone. Any harm you think you may pose, you're in capable hands that won't let you swipe at anybody."

Liam withholds what happened with his mother, unwilling to burden Scott with more trouble than what he already has on his mountain of a plate. What he does inform him of is that Theo is doing ground control with Alec, extended as an olive branch and a mild mollification of the disturbing state of affairs.

"Alec." upon the inquisitive hum, Theo fills his lungs up in a prolonged inhale. "Call me. If you need to."

He can't say, if you need me. He just can't. Enough people think they do, he won't do it to Alec, too. 

"It doesn't matter what time it is. If nothing can get through you, I'm a call away."

Theo coughs, rubs a hand over his mouth. Man, he's unused to offering comfort, a dead zone he'd never been able to quite fabricate accordingly, or to a believable extent, during his role as an infiltrator. Somehow feeling the genuine thing doesn't make it an easier task.

"Okay." a simple word and Alec sounds choked up around it, relieved. Relieved that Theo hasn't abandoned him like so many have. Followed by a whisper of a "Thank you."

And Theo means it, just as much as all the other spew he'd forced his mouth to produce, when he tells him, "Anytime."

The rest of their call Theo guides Alec through techniques he can try to apply and what to expect, when Alec's breathing accelerates to an alarming degree.

"You'll be okay. The moon will come and go and you'll be okay." 

Theo just doesn't know who he's consoling with that statement, himself or Alec.

Liam's gaze is heavier than when Theo briefly left the room, when he steps back inside. Assessing, almost compelling. It says, you know I heard what you said, everything you said, but I can't place the words with the persona you carry. It says, I don't know you as well as I thought I did. And Liam, with his need to be aware in order to control his state, wants to know.

Theo texts Argent another status update, as well as the belief that Alec will pull through the moon. The last one is unneeded, he types it out either way. 

He ignores Liam's long talk with Scott and if Liam wants a semblance of privacy he knows where the door is. It's a solid plan until Liam holds out his phone to him, impatiently wiggles it when Theo doesn't immediately take it. He has to reach over, lie down on one elbow to extend his arm, their fingers brushing when Theo takes the device.

"Yeah?" the blatant confusion is a bit too evident.

He expects disappointment and accusation that he isn't there to help Alec when the kid is the most responsive to him. Then again, Scott is Scott, he'll spare the blame unless it's something all too serious, all too damning.

"Heard Alec talk. For the first time in two days." Scott shares and Theo can't get a read on him without a visual. The statement knocks him off balance, Alec not having shown any signs of that fact.

Theo relays the same mistake he confessed to Alec, "I didn't calculate the trip." it's self-deprecating enough that Liam clicks his tongue at his expense. 

"That's not—I'm trying to say thank you for talking to him and bringing him back." Scott's awkward laugh confuses Theo just as much as his sentence does. "Derek says Alec is reacting way better to the moon than he's seen newly bittens do."

Theo hums. "He's in tune with himself, has a better mind to body connection than most." he explains. Alec's past disability is an advantage in this case, is the reason he's advanced so quickly in just a few weeks.

"Huh. Yeah. That makes sense."

"I told him he can call at any time. And I mean any time. He freaks out too much, you have a green light to dial me up."

Two sharp intakes of breath. Theo's senses train only on one. He refuses to look Liam's way. 

When this call ends as well Theo tosses Liam his phone back, gets to his feet to take out the food and hair related items, already craving the feeling of less fluff on his head. For whatever reason Liam doesn't comment, just snatches part of the food. Theo munches some on his share whilst scrolling through various news feeds, wary of the significance of tonight's moon cycle. Monroe is going to strike, and he's pissed he can't predict where.

Theo abandons his meal, ignoring the instinct berating him for it, heads towards the bathroom. Getting rid of the unnecessary hair is not a small bit liberating. Living off of his truck it was yet another luxury he couldn't afford. The snick of the scissors and the buzz of the hair clippers are therapeutic. He almost snickers when the sounds keep startling Liam into nearly dropping his turkey sandwich, like a cat jumping at every unexpected noise.

He mostly takes the length, neatly going over the shorter parts and edges to balance it out to his desired shape. It's longer than during the Ghost Riders farce, comfortable and finally just how he wants it to look. He ruffles out any stray hairs, sets on his face with the beard trimmer, pulling the skin taut this way and that. 

Liam watches him the entire time, unconcealed interest pouring out of him. Theo turns back to return the look when he's done with the lower half of his face, raises the hair clippers with a mocking tilt to his lips, a voiceless taunt to the current state of the nest on Liam's head. It wouldn't be a bad fit if he took care of it, which he obviously doesn't.

He doesn't expect the bitter—no, forlorn is the right word—expression to take over and soak into Liam's eyes. 

The fuck?

"Just google a tutorial. It's not Higher Mathematics."

Liam shakes his head as he picks at his protein bar, now irritated, albeit not exactly at Theo. His gaze flickers back to him, once more with that same face he'd made when he silently begged for the something Theo hadn't deciphered, back at their first panic-induced pit stop today. What can be so goddamn degrading that he can't possibly voice it out?

Liam's teeth click, head tilting down to sever the eye contact, a mist of humiliation and anger engulfing him. 

"What, can't find a decent hairdresser?"

"Drop it." Liam growls, especially prevalent in the 'r'. 

"Then quit looking like you'll never see one again. Jesus." the muscles at Liam's jaw bulge at the snide comment, molars grinding together. 

Theo throws an impromptu reassessment of the case, goes over all the words, play by play, before a little light dings and illuminates the corner where the last piece had laid in plain sight. 

"How long have you been delaying it?"

Liam adops his meerkat freeze, mulishly not returning the stare.

Probably since he was bitten. As it is, Theo has seen him with shorter hair, but it'd only increased in length as time went by. He'd presumed it was a fashion statement, experimentation with styles, getting back at stereotypes. Not that Liam couldn't do it because of his lack of self trust to not butcher it. And not being able to let anybody near the most exposed, defenseless part of his body long enough to get the job done.

It's not unknown of: werewolves and power dynamics bleeding too much into their daily lives. 

As if having read Theo's last thought, Liam mutters as he tugs at the sleeves of his thermal, "It's not a control thing."

Theo leans his right hip against the sink, to turn completely in Liam's direction. "Then?"

"I physically can't let it happen. Was able to stand it only twice, but with each time I just got more cagey and then it got worse and worse until I lost my nerve."

Or temper. Liam doesn't say it, Theo still hears its omission.

Theo's brows pull together, contemplating. "Like a compulsion?"

"No." Liam brushes a thumb over the knuckles of his left hand. "More similar to the fear from the Anuk-Ite. Can't explain why I feel it, but it's there and I can't contain it."

Theo can recall it in full clarity. The constant stream of doubt, dread and paranoia. The feeling that there's something lurking behind you, that no matter how much you push your back against a wall your neck is still exposed for the thing that's biding its time to swipe at it and kill you with a single strike. 

Boo, it's right behind you and you can't outrun it, it'll always catch up with you. You can't hide, sucker. 

That fear. 

Theo pre-hell would deem Liam's irrational fear ridiculous, maliciously poke at it for fun. Theo post-hell is doing his damn best to understand it, turning it over and over in his metaphorical hands.

"It's stupid." Liam spits out, gets up to throw away the wrappers previously strewn over his bed cover. 

Theo has two options here. Take Liam's cue that the situation is done with or goad him into taking a chair into the bathroom so that Theo can try and give him a haircut. A flash, Liam's behavior before Theo figured it out. The lamentable glances, begging Theo to put his razor wit to use and permit Liam to not word his troubles.

On the other hand the moon isn't on his side, will force Liam's little phobia to get blown even more out of proportion.

Theo steps enough out of the door frame to snatch the back of the sole chair in the motel room, places it in the middle of the bathroom, the legs making a loud clack as they are set on the tiled floor. 

"Fuck no." Liam hisses.

Theo blinks at Liam, pointedly tips his chin up a bit to indicate the long hair getting into Liam's eyes, the same long hair he has to subdue with a hand to slick it back. Most of the strands fall back in their original place.

Liam's shaking fists clench at his sides, now flared eyes aimed at the peeling ceiling. Theo doesn't push, cleans up the sink, leaves it spotless of any hairs he'd cut or buzzed off of his own head, gives his shoulders and neck the same treatment. Liam takes a tentative step forward, just one, and stops. Then he storms in all the way, throws himself on the chair to cross his arms at his heaving chest, eyes set on the empty tub.

"Here's what I'll do." Theo remains poised at the sink, aiming to inform Liam of every move so that he's prepared and there's no surprises. Not that everything can't go wrong either way. "I'll place a towel on your shoulders, then I'll have to wet your hair. Or you can dunk it under the faucet and do that yourself."

Liam stands, braces himself with a hand on the sink and once the water is running, starts taking palmfuls of it to splash onto his hair. Their hips and outer thighs are flush together, Theo having not moved from his spot. As soon as his head is drenched, Liam resumes his position on the chair, only this time he's all but started vibrating in place.

"Now I'm going to stand behind you to place the towel."

Theo waits, in case Liam has a remark to make. There's none. He drapes the towel over tense shoulders, not slow nor quick in his actions, gets back to the sink when he's done.

"First is the trim. How short do you want it?" 

Liam exhales roughly, eyes narrowing for a split second. "Like… like during the Ghost Riders ordeal. Maybe just a little shorter."

Theo remembers, won't give that bit away. It's kinda creepy, keeping stock of how everybody has looked over time. That, and the fact that Theo has always paid more attention to Liam than any other member of the McCall pack.

"I'll need a photo."

Liam snarls, head snapping to glare at Theo from under stormy eyes, thinking he's being made fun of. Theo's pulse, body language, face and signals are all a flat line. Liam swallows, digs his phone from his pocket to tap into his gallery app, water beading at the tips of the hair strands and dripping down his neck to seep into the seam of his thermal. He stops on a photo, thumb poised as if to swipe again, but reluctant in doing so. 

The acrid scent he emits has Theo's nose tingle. Liam shakes his head, throws an arm out to shove the bright screen in Theo's direction.

It's Liam and Hayden, happy and bright and in love, sitting close, straddling a bench so that they're facing each other and their knees are touching, carefree smiles splitting their mouths wide. It was taken by either Mason and Corey, from a bit of a distance. Simpler times, when Theo was down under with Tara, crawling backwards to win himself a second or two, before Tara's heart is out of his chest cavity again.

"Okay." he says, no remnants of his inner reflection of time on his outer layers. 

Liam pockets the phone, chin going down until it's in near contact with his chest. 

"So, longer on the top, shorter at the sides and back." a jerky nod as an answer. "Scissors first, to take care of the layers. Then hair clippers to fix up the rest."

Liam blows out a breath, staring straight ahead. "Okay."

Theo's brows raise of their own accord. He just picks up the hair clippers demonstratively, his other arm over his abdomen, and turns them on. Liam does a full body flinch, chair rattling along with him with a screech. Theo turns them off, leaves them at the edge of the sink. 

Liam shakes, furious at himself, at his claws, fangs and glowing eyes that have snitched on him. He brings his hands up to his face, bit by bit curling the fingers inwards, the tips of his claws resting on the meat of his palms. He doesn't press further, just to the point where his skin turns white from the pressure. His mouth forms inaudible words.

The sun, the moon, the truth.

It doesn't work. 

Theo waits for the moment Liam also realizes it. 

The sun, the moon, the truth.

Yet again, to no avail.

Liam bares his clenched teeth, fangs overlapping, claws beginning to apply pressure. 

The sun, the moon, the truth.

A tortured expression starts taking root, woeful and agonized, observing the welling blood. 

Theo takes the few steps needed to stand in front of him, covers Liam's hands with his own, index fingers curling under Liam's to loosen Liam's hold. 

Gold on green. 

"You're in a house. Size, location, furniture, layout, time in space - all up to you." Theo repeats the sentences, word by word, from a few hours ago.

Liam's eyes grow wide in understanding, flutter closed. "It's familiar, might even be boring on occasions." 

Does he grasp how vulnerable he is in this moment? How easy it would be for Theo to harm him, to land lasting damage, not just physical, or even kill him?

The claws retreat with a snick. 

"The people there are all welcome, nobody is out of place. Can you picture it?"

Liam knew the chance of them making it back for the full moon was slim to none, opted to accompany Theo with that in mind. And Scott even let him. Just how stupid are the both of them? Leaving him with Theo, the walking weapon brought up with a single intent - to destroy. The person who dug his claws into Scott's abdomen, twisted and left him dead on those steps in the library. Who murdered Liam's alpha, and friend. Among others.

The coyote trashes, abnormally loud, wants distance now. 

Theo makes to take his hands away, unable to stand the feeling of Liam's skin under his. Liam intercepts him, grabs him by the wrists, thumbs resting on his pulse points.

"Liam—"

"Please." it's choked, face hidden when he hangs his head. "Just, please." his grip alternates between feather light and steel tight, like he can't settle on one or the other. "Nothing else works anymore." the last part holds a lupine note of gruffness, an admission of Liam's fear. 

Theo can barely manage to keep his hands from shaking.

"Nothing else works anymore." Liam repeats, close to a breathless sob, twitching shoulders climbing high to his ears. 

For any non-human creature control is key to blending in with society, to leading a relatively normal life. Without it it's just a matter of when one slips and gets themselves killed. Or when they kill somebody else. For people like Liam it's terrifying, holds power over all of his fright, turns it against him, lulls him into a never-ending cycle of self-doubt and leads to insanity.

It's not the animals but Theo that makes his arms turn a smidge to mirror Liam's grasp, palms clasping around his wrists, thumbs almost pressed to Liam's pulse points. 

Theo loses time again. Liam's hair is half dry by the time their heartbeats are at normal levels, synced. He thinks the shift is under wraps now, doesn’t quite have a visual of anything but the back of Liam’s head. 

"You good?" 

He sure as fuck hopes so, the urge to untangle their arms increasing again when he's regained his cool.

Liam's hands twitch, drag themselves down and drop from Theo to land in his lap, leaving a trail of blood on Theo's skin. He washes it away, giving Liam his back, as well as room to attempt regaining his composure, and he does. Only Theo doesn't like the blank look on Liam's face when he turns around, his skin even and relaxed, holding no tension. With his eyes empty. 

Theo thinks fast, an idea forming in a split second. The bathtub is just three steps away, probably one of the least sanitary places in this room, but it'll do. He rinses it out with the detachable shower head on the highest temperature setting it can go, to keep his peace of mind. Once he's satisfied he puts the plug in place, turns on the tap and places the shower head back in place. Goal is to fill it with cool water, not cold, just the amount needed to help lower Liam body temp to its normal state, and convince him to get in the tub.

Liam remains mute behind him, obviously trying to calculate Theo's tactic here, clicks his tongue when it dawns on him. 

"Fuck's sake." he mutters under his breath, growl threatening to overthrow his regular speech once more. 

"The cold is gonna make you focus. Get in."

Liam doesn't budge and when Theo turns he's greeted by a sullen face. He'd expected it. So he pulls his shirt off and climbs into the tub first, the temperature change causing instant goosebumps to erupt across his skin, legs halfway up to his chest with his forearms resting on his knees, mouth pursed in exasperation while on the inside he’s just hoping that this does indeed end up working. 

Liam maintains his position for less than a few seconds, discards his own thermal and dips one leg, then the other, to sit down and mirrors Theo's position. It's less than a few heartbeats when he suddenly changes his mind, slips further into the tub with his legs crowding Theo on each side, to submerge his entire upper body underwater. His position evokes a not so easily evadable pang of arousal, squirming in Theo's guts and causing his breath to catch.

Some of the water sloshes out of the tub. This is so not what Theo had planned.

Liam's legs are spread wide, hands emerging to grip the edges of the tub, claws digging into the porcelain. Theo tramples down everything, wiping away his own emotions and bodily reactions.

"Fifteen seconds." he says, knowing his voice will carry to Liam’s ears, counting away the time passed.

His fingers itch to clasp around Liam's knees.

"Thirty."

To grip his thighs, slide his palms up and down firm muscle, feel it move under his hands.

"Forty-five."

Liam pulls himself up on the fifty second mark, gasping with his hair in his face. His head is bowed down, flared eyes looking through the water. Then they dart up Theo's way, like he's searching for directions.

"Not a bad method." Theo supplies. "Though, I don't know how you think it'll help when your eyes and claws are out.”

And when his heart rate is the opposite of stable.

Liam growls, fangs descending. Theo waves an exasperated hand in a your point being? manner. He also pretends he doesn't see Liam's tongue going over his upper teeth to confirm it himself. Liam drags a hand over his soaking hair, slicking it back and away, the click of him swallowing all too audible in the room.

Another one of those indiscernible expressions. Why can't he just fucking say what he fucking wants instead of making Theo guess like a madman on a mission? Of course, none of his annoyance bleeds out, it will serve to nothing but conduct more chaos.

Liam continues to not say a word, counting on Theo's nonexistent telepathy to manifest itself and prod around his blustering mind like he's one of Charles Xavier's students. The gold keeps flickering in and out of his eyes. Theo realizes it's fading away and reappearing in time with his heartbeat.

Ba-thump, ba-thump, gold-blue, gold-blue.

He’s not even aware of it, most likely.

Liam sits up a little, still awkwardly sprawled, indecisively reaches out with both hands to take Theo's, careful with the claws. He places them on his own knees, tightens his hold, as if to tell Theo to not move them away. At last, Theo puts two and two together.

Liam wants a physical anchor, in the literal sense of the words. To get lost in the silence under the water and still be sure that he has something to pull him back if he wanders too far away, to be secure in the fact that if he falls, Theo will catch him.

Not so far from a trust fall.

(And fuck if that doesn't screw with Theo more than sinister mindgames ever have.)

With the lack of reaction on Theo's side Liam seems even more reluctant and ready to backtrack, settles when Theo minutely grips his knees and dips his chin down in a not-quite-a-nod but something along those lines. Liam's hands return to the sides of the tub, claws connecting. He takes a breath, starts leaning back again, maintaining eye contact with Theo up until the moment his head is entirely under the water. 

Theo's fingers spasm atop the rough material of Liam’s jeans. Does that little shit have to make everything this intimate?

"Fifteen."

He wants. He wants.

Liam's claws retract, legs twitching under his hands.

"Thirty."

The cords of muscle in Liam's arms pull tight, each muscle group defined, the veins crawling upwards bulging from the strain of this lovely exercise. 

"Forty-five."

Liam's legs shift, alternating between caging Theo in closer and leaning away. At first, Theo's immediate thought is Liam wants to be let go of before he scratches it away. He's trying to hold his breath for longer, the nitwit. 

"Liam, get back up." Theo pretends there's no color of worry to his voice. "You're doing the opposite of what you want to achieve. Get up."

Liam just grips the tub harder and when Theo tries to lean in to forcibly pull him out of the water, his knees dig into Theo's rib cage on both sides to stop him.

"Get the fuck up, you idiot!"

It's past the one minute mark. He won't die, but he might lose consciousness and with that inhale water. 

The adrenaline kicks in, at that particular scenario. Theo lunges forward, breaking through Liam's barricade attempt to pull him up. One hand on a defined shoulder, the other sneaking under Liam’s right shoulder blade. Their foreheads crack together at the excessive force Theo exerts to drag him out of the water, ears ringing from the collision.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" Theo hisses out, holding more lupine snarl in it than he'd care to admit. Only then does he notice his fangs have slid out, and when he shakes his head to dispel the shift their foreheads rub together. 

Liam is gasping for breath, chest heaving and heaving, all but ventilating from the extended time of no oxygen. His fingers grip at Theo's shoulders after having slithered under Theo's arms, nails human. Liam is by no means a tall person, but now he appears so tiny, all hunched and halfway in his lap, legs drawn up around Theo's sides again. 

"Thought it'd help." Liam whispers.

Translation: he thought it would subdue the wolf and bring him back the control.

His head drops, forehead hitting the juncture between Theo's shoulder and neck, automatically eliciting the need to shove him away from this particular, carefully guarded zone. 

He endures, waits for his body to catch up that Liam isn't a threat, not to Theo, only to himself. Liam interprets Theo's stillness his own way, latches on tighter with a high noise, holding on like Theo is his only lifeline. Hell, he probably is. 

With the accelerated breaths he's not getting a proper amount of air into his lungs.

Theo moves the hand on Liam's shoulder to the back of his head, takes an exaggerated inhale, holds it, and exhales just as pointedly. Body language is the way to get through Liam right now, as evident by his fairly unsuccessful attempt to mimic Theo's breathing. Minute by minute he fights to get in that precious oxygen to his cells, shaking like a leaf.

"I'm gonna pull the plug, okay?" Theo murmurs against Liam's head, leans in to reach out and tug at the damn thing, to take away water that's gone cold. Shit load that plan did, just made things worse. 

By dislodging the plug from the drain, he'd aided Liam in his octopus journey. His free arm stays suspended in the air, uncertain if he should re-establish the touch, in the end places his palm on Liam's back. At least some of the trembling has subsided, Liam's body too drained from all the emotional tempests today to sustain the action. 

A cold nose brushes against his jugular vein, traces a path to his jaw, to pivot and land on the spot behind his ear. To subconsciously scent him.

Hot puffs of air land on his skin, goosebumps rising anew in their wake. Theo has half a mind to maintain his position and not give into the urge to bare his throat as both the wolf and coyote half want him to do. The other half of them barks at him to urge Liam to do the same. 

(To possess and be possessed, they beg. Would it really be such a bad thing?)

It would be. A bad thing, that is. Liam is utilizing the anchor to get control. He's misguided, same as Alec. They think they’ve found some type of solace in Theo, for whatever ludicrous reasons, but at the end of the day he'd just been the most convenient thing available they could latch onto at their time of dire need of balance. They'd both made an instinctual mistake that now clouds their judgement. Nothing more. What Liam might think he needs is just physical, a carnal urgency of a pack animal. That and companionship, teenage hormones blocking his rational side after whatever that shit between them during the Anuk-Ite was.

He's not thinking straight. And when he gets older, wiser, he'll be glad that Theo hasn't and won't let him act on it. 

Theo still is a selfish being, doesn't burst the bubble they're in, not yet. He's too touch starved and a hunger such as that one makes you do a lot of things you wouldn't under normal circumstances. 

The hand on the back of Liam's skull has started tapping his thumb to the beat of Tara's heart, unbeknownst to him. 

“I think it might work now. Too tired to react.” Liam’s voice is closer than Theo would like, what with his face practically smushed into Theo’s neck. 

When Theo pulls back a bit, to chance a glance at Liam’s expression, he’s met with flared eyes. The rest of the shift is under wraps, there’s a possibility Liam is keeping them like this on purpose.

“Okay.” Theo gives, has a hard time disentangling them with Liam not lifting a finger to help the process, in fact seems like he doesn’t want to help on the quest for separation. He doesn’t make a move to regain the contact, albeit the indecipherable gaze aimed at Theo, with his cheek on his raised knees. 

Theo pulls the chair close to the tub, rearranges Liam to sit with his back to him and drops the towel onto his bare shoulders. True to Liam’s words he’s so drained he doesn’t so much as flinch at the first snick of the scissors. Only when Theo accidentally pulls his hair, while using his fingers as a make-shift comb, does his breath lodge into the back of his throat, but other than that he’s stable. No animal sounds, no skipped heartbeats, no worrying notes to his scent. It’s almost like the strokes of Theo’s fingers relax him. 

Theo as well. The entire motion of gentle touches, genuine gentle touches, soothes something in him. Further proof that he’s capable of this, after all the blood and guts and venom. He still has it in him to be—to be tender.

Hard part proves to be the hair clippers. The sound causes him to wince away more than once. He leans back further, wedging himself in between Theo’s legs to whatever extent he can with the ceramic tub separating them. Theo is still in that weak state where he can’t find his will, scooches forward on the chair; the edge of the tub digs just under his kneecaps. Liam braces his forearms on Theo’s knees, back arched to accommodate the position. The contact calms him down instantly, tension melting out of him. 

With a swallow he nods and Theo resumes where he left off. He almost doesn’t want to be done with it, but all things must come to an end. He refrains from dragging his hand over Liam’s head one last time, as much the need to do so burns him. That is until Liam shamelessly pushes his head back into his palm, akin to a feline asking for attention.

Is he even the slightest bit aware of his surroundings?  

Theo’s been there, depleted from emotional fatigue. It can have an effect not far from opiates, with your mind stilted and body lead-like, thoughts jumbling up, tangling, making no sense whatsoever and forcing you to either look into it or do the easier thing - overlook it. The full moon no doubt further erases Liam’s coherence, wolf seeking consolation by any means necessary. 

“All done.” Theo uses his body weight to move the chair back, severing the closeness. Liam is motionless, hands back on the lip of the tub with Theo having removed himself. He doesn’t freak out, just seems to slam back into his body and the present, away from wherever his head had carried him to.  

“Theo.” Liam turns to catch Theo’s eyes from over his shoulder, his own all sky blue, human. Calm. “Thank you.” 

And this, right here, is not a look Theo has expected Liam to aim at him. Soft features, no jagged edges in sight, solemn but easy and warm. An expression reserved for Mason and Scott, for the rest of his pack, not for Theo.

Theo nods, turns away to hide away his stupefied state. Why is it that shit like this always gets under his skin?         

He leaves Liam to his own devices, shuts the door to the bathroom. The buzz of the beard trimmer starts, a repertoire of hissing and tongue clicking following it the entire time. They take turns in the shower, stepping on eggshells when it comes to the situation back in Beacon Hills. Theo keeps a close eye on his phone, but no calls come through. That should be good, right? 

Who the fuck is he kidding? It's a disastrous omen. It's not that he lacks trust in either Scott or Derek's capabilities, no, he just isn't certain they can handle the trauma Alec so neatly hides under the proverbial rug. He should have taken it into consideration, prolonged his wait to hit the road. Three theaters down, but will it be worth it if one of the worst scenarios befalls the kid? He doesn't even have to think it through to know the answer.

"Like you said, he's in good hands." Liam pipes up from his bed, raking a hand through his hair, unused to its new length if overly content with it. 

Theo shakes his head, bites at the skin around his thumb. He should call, make sure. 

But what if he hits a bullseye on a shitty moment? His second doubt wars with the first, what if Alec starts thinking Theo made up his concern and assurance to get him off his shoulders? With his self-esteem it's more than likely.

"Why do you care so much about him?" 

Liam blanches as soon as the words are out of his mouth. At Theo's cold look he raises his hands. 

"That's not what I meant! I just—you've cared about him since the beginning. No matter how much you try, you can't fake it to that extent. And I'm not saying you're that cold-hearted bastard anymore—"

"Gee, thanks a fuck ton."

"But what I am saying," Liam talks over him, shift bleeding into his eyes in irritation at the interruption. "Is that we've never seen you do that with anybody. So why Alec?"

Theo swallows down a cutting answer or two, chooses to go with the sincerity of the question, lacking Liam's usually harsh tone when it comes to Alec. 

"I don't know, Liam. Why do people get attached to other people?"

It gives away too much. Then again, Liam has broken down in front of him four times today, trusted him in his most compromised state, practically handed Theo his sanity on a golden platter. He chose to do it, instead of locking himself away and deal with it without Theo in the picture to loom with his hands poised to rip him to shreds.

Liam mulls it over, doesn't take the bait, picks apart the truth amongst the coals. There's still the missing piece, the instigator to Liam's tense relationship with Alec. 

Whatever he's about to say gets sidetracked by Theo's phone ringing, not Alec. Theo still answers lighting fast. 

"Yeah?" 

"You have to talk to him." it's Derek, winded and tired. "He freaked out, can't stop the shift and we can't get through him anymore." meaning they've tried all of their arsenal and it's a last resort.

In the background there's desperate roaring, Scott begging Alec to calm down, only to receive a fearful Get the fuck away from me! and what might be a stray object thrown at him, judging by the crash of porcelain. One particular sound, easy to miss, grabs his attention. Metallic, unmistakable.

His brain injects fury straight into his bloodstream. 

"Did you chain him up?" it's calm, leveled and dangerous. The deep and unmistakable rumble of the wolf gives it away.

Both of the animals in him howl, would have made him dig his claws, if he was there, into whoever was closest. Their combined blood lust alone would have been enough to make him lose it once upon a time.

Liam sucks in a breath, heart skipping a beat at the same time Derek's does.

"Did you fucking chain him up? You've gotta be kidding me." Theo's laugh is all ice, having stood up with his body reacting to the electric storm in his brain. "Kid got tortured in that abandoned house, with an honest to fuck metal leash and shackles on him, and you chained him up?" he's yelling by the end of it, vein at his forehead pulsing, too caught up in the wrath to care about being heard beyond the walls of the motel room.

He buries a hand in his hair, grips his nape to dig in the claws that had sprung out. Seems like it's his turn to shake and be in need of a physical anchor.

"He said that—"

"Alec would say anything to appease the people keeping the roof over his head. Did you seriously sit down and come to the conclusion that this would pan out? Put me on speaker."

"Theo."

He doesn't have the capacity to deal with Liam putting in his opinion on this case. 

Theo whirls, eyes flared and fangs elongated, the snarled words laced with venom, "Stay out of it."

Liam recoils away so hard he nearly falls off his bed, mouth falling open with a current of hurt to his scent.

"You're on speaker."

Theo focuses, to maintain his speech clear. "Alec. Alec, you're safe. Do you hear me? You're safe." the crashing doesn't cease. "Scott, get those goddamn chains off him."

"But!"

But, he might escape. But, he might expose us again just when the town has turned a blind eye. But, he could potentially pose harm to himself and others. Honestly? Theo doesn't give a single rat's ass about the remainder of that sentence.

"I said, get those chains off him! "

The loud silence rings in his ears and he'll bite his tongue until it bleeds after this call, because he just ordered an alpha like Theo is the one in charge. They still need him, though, they won't send him back to hell just yet. 

And that rush of satisfaction from the wolf and coyote alike, at having for once expressed his true state in stride of the events, is kinda nice.

He opts to serve some type of elaboration to the outburst, "You triggered him. He's back in the house with that psychopath. You keep him the way he is and it'll get worse." 

An alarmed oh shit from Scott, then an even more fearful repeat of the curse, along with gibberish from Alec. Panicked yelling ensues, begging, then threats from Alec to try and make Scott step back. Theo paces around the small room. The sizzling fury has been replaced by freezing blocks in his insides, making him feel sick to the point where he might just throw up.

Worry, a distant voice supplies for him. He's twisted up with worry.

"You need to stay calm. He's mirroring you both, you know that." Theo sits at the edge of his bed when the room swings, all anxiety induced, cold sweat at his hairline. "Alec, c'mon, kid. It's safe. I promise you, it's safe. I know you don't wanna believe it, and I know you're terrified of the shift, of the possibility of hurting somebody or of them hurting you, but it's all in your hands, okay? It's in your hands, you just have to grasp it."

Scott and Derek keep their mouths shut. Liam has a pillow in his lap, the knuckles of his hands white with the way he's digging his fingers into it. Their eyes meet, gold on gold, and he's just as aghast, somehow tense and jittery at the same time.

"Theo?" the teary and juvenile voice has Theo turn his head away. Alec sounds identical to the first day they met. But the important thing is that it's Alec, nothing animal mixed in.

Scott and Derek must have succeeded in getting the chains off.

Theo rests his free arm on one thigh, elbow digging into it, leans his forehead on the apple of his palm, pacifying his emotions. "Hey."

"You promise?" so simple, yet loaded. 

"Yeah. I promise." 

The dull thud of a body connecting with the floor, not knocked out, just having taken a heavy seat down.

"I promise. Just hold tight." there's a bleak laugh, Alec's. "You know what, is your phone near you? Why don't you put on some music, yeah? Helps keep the ghosts away."

Helps play pretend until the effect of the moon passes, he doesn't say. 

"And we'll get you spakers when I get back, help you pick out good ones. You'll drive the neighbors crazy."

"Are you calling my taste in music shitty?" there's a heavy lisp and he's near keeling over, by the sound of it. He's also steadily getting his control back. "People who listen to so many depressing songs have no vote."

"Funny you would say that when the majority of the crap on your phone is identical to mine."

Liam is unbelieving, bed creaking under him as he shifts on it. Theo throws out a hand, to stop him if he has anything to say. Brittle balance. It'll take a tiny flick and it's gone. The back and forth is what's holding back Alec from spiraling back into his animal side. He hears Liam through the speaker and it's gone.

Liam lies on his side, pillow smushed against his chest with his arms holding it close. Once again tearing Theo's actions apart in silence, taking them in and piling them in boxes with names Theo isn't privy to.

Alec's song fills up the void left from the lack of conversation, an interlude for a time out if you will, minutes trickling by like time always will. The universe won't stop just because your own world has.

Theo lies down on his back, feet still on the floor and with his left hand on his belly. He waits out the song to end, another moment or two to see if a new one will start. Alec gives him an in by not hitting play a second time. 

"See?" it's the safest way to restart where they stopped.

Alec snorts, and he's on the verge of falling asleep. "Eh. I still wanna revoke my lycanthropy subscription. Zero out of ten would recommend."

Surprisingly, it's Derek who can't contain himself, stifles his own snort with a cough, poorly at that. 

"Alec—" Scott tries to start a pour out your guilty heart and profusely apologize speech, prompting Theo to clear his throat, demolishing the attempt. He'll have time for that tomorrow after he's chewed himself out for not connecting the dots sooner. "Right. Um."

And Theo has to save the situation for the umpteenth time. "Yeah, well. Alec's bed time is upon us."

"Oh, fuck you."

"So I suggest we wrap this up and let lisp boy get his beauty sleep."

"No, seriously, fuck you." it's made further comical because the lisp gets more pronounced. "What if I had an actual lisp, you asshole? I'm gonna report you to HR for verbal abuse."

Theo hangs up with a parting see you soon. They'll call again if another lycanthropic cataclysm starts. He's already gearing up to verbally stab Scott and Derek where it hurts when they're face to face, consequences be damned. Chain up the traumatized kid, perfect job. Just because it's their preferred and most successful method to date doesn't mean it should have been applied to Alec. Christ, what were they thinking?

"That's what I meant." Liam says.

Theo twists his neck on the bed, hair and cover rustling under him. He can't get a read on the thing on Liam's face. 

"You almost had a panic attack, sick with worry. You can't fake that, Theo." he throws out a hand when Theo's mouth drops open, "No, don't even start with me. You can try and convince people, but to this extent? Nah. That was real. Honest."

Theo's spent. He can't have another round when his nerves are bared and raw. He just can't.

Liam surprises him once again, "I know. I'm not trying to start anything." 

Huh. He really did just want to put it out there. The ‘I see you’ undertone to his monologue.

It's some news hopping afterwards, processing and waiting for a second call while also hoping it won't come to that. He does get a text from Scott, a simple thank you and stares through the wall at that. Theo chewed him out—even if it was warranted with the demented plan they had—and Scott thanks him. Typical. 

Liam goes to brush his teeth stumbling on his feet, Theo going in second. The sight of Liam holding the enchanted handcuffs, twirling them pensively, is not what he'd hoped to see when he re-emerges with artificial mint on his breath. 

"Put those BDSM cuffs away. Fuck's sake. You're stable." he grouches, can't speak in anything but chopped off sentences. 

"Dunno about that." Liam puts his clawed index finger through one loop, starts swinging the cuffs on it. 

Theo hopes he smacks himself in the face for the theatrics.

Way to be dramatic. And no, Theo isn't being dismissive. He's heavily attuned to Liam's signals, to catch the first signs in the making. There's been none so far after the call. Liam pays too much attention to surrounding sounds, resulting in wincing and the snick of his claws coming out, and that's it. His body is currently unable to sustain further emotional input, which is his saving grace from the moon. He won't wolf out. 

To prove it to Liam Theo walks over to the edge of the bed, takes the wrist of Liam's free hand and brings the out and about claws to his throat. They retract before they even have the chance to graze him. He purses his lips, ticks up his brows. 

He should take a laced shot every time he has to raise either one or both of his eyebrows to make a point to this dumbass. Might make the torturous experience the slightest bit amusing.

Liam's fingers spasm. Theo lets go of him. 

This entire day has gone on for too long. He almost forgets to ping Argent up for the allotted seven hours. 

He’s ready for a mild fix of nothingness, craves the shutdown. When he faceplants on his designated bed he points at Liam without even slanting him a glance. 

“Seven hours max. We need to get back fast, you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Theo sets the alarm, places a new code protection as a fail-safe against Liam and shoves the phone under his pillow. Then comes the last detail, the one he’s cautious to even acknowledge. As it is, it's an abnormal status quo, he'll let it slide one last time.

“Listen. If you’re gonna crawl into my bed when I fall asleep for your dose of physical contact, might as well push the beds together." and because of the way it can be read, the connotation it has already acquired in his own mind, he adds, "I'd rather not wake up anytime soon.” 

Liam studies him briefly, determining whether Theo is forcing himself to do it or not. The breath of relief and giddiness he releases, when he understands that only Theo's way of serving it is biting to keep up the image, dampens the vitriolic threats Theo's rationality springs on himself. Liam shoves the nightstand between the beds away, maneuvers his bed until the mattresses are flush together. At least like this there’s more space. Theo just doesn’t have it in him to deprive Liam from the closeness he so dearly needs to keep all his pieces sewn together. That and - it’s the last night, last chance of good sleep.

A bout of quietude alerts him that there’s a mild disturbance. He shifts his head, from it entirely pressed onto the font of the pillow, to only his right cheek to it.

Liam presents the handcuffs to Theo’s face, leaves them by his head when Theo makes no movement to take them and holds out his wrists. It says a lot about Theo that his first reaction is to at once shut down all thought processes. He fully recognizes the potential calamity, to let his burned out head make decisions in this type of scenario. 

“No.”

“Just in case. Please?” this Liam holds a close resemblance to the Liam he’d played like a marionette, pre-hell. Gullible, immensely susceptible to manipulation. 

Trustful. 

It stirs his guts in an uncomfortable twist at the reminder.

“Fuck no.”

“It’s not like I’ll be helpless or whatever. Deaton just enchanted them to weaken the effect of the shift influenced by the moon.”  

Theo groans, turns his head the other way, speech already slurring. “And the moon won’t be there by the time we’re awake. Which will be in six hours and fifty-five minutes. Less if you don’t zip it and go to sleep.”

“I don’t trust myself. I won’t be able to sleep if I know there’s a chance I might lose it again.”

“You can barely keep yourself upright. You were moments away from crashing your skull open. On the small table over there. Then on the sink and tiles respectfully. Go to sleep, Liam.”

Liam turns off the lights, gets under his blanket while Theo turns to lie on his side away from him. He feels the stormy eyes drilling holes into his head. If Liam is so hell bent on putting those things on, he can do it by himself, can't fathom why he wants Theo to do it in the first place. It seems he's gotten way too used to Theo anchoring him, now more than ever.

Well, that shit stops now. Theo hasn't forgotten his own fit after he brought Alec to Beacon Hills while he drove Liam to his house. 

Liam's claws snick into existence. Theo doesn't react. 

"The proximity helps, but. There's a chance I might wake up and…"

He's afraid he'll try and rip Theo's larynx out or claw his mug to ribbons. Like it won't be the least of what Theo deserves.

"And we both know I'm faster."

"Can you please just fucking put them on?"

"Do it yourself."

Silence. 

A loud swallow and Liam's embarrassment saturating the air. 

Theo turns to lie on his other side. "They have to be put on by another party for the enchantment to activate." he summarizes his suspicions. 

"Kinda." Liam's holding something back, not vital enough for Theo to be intrigued. Not now in any case.

Theo blinks slowly, reaches for the cuffs at the same languid pace to tug them out of Liam's fingers. Same as a few minutes ago Liam offers his wrists. With them at this proximity, practically breathing the same air since Liam has inched as close as he dares, it makes a barely noticeable shiver course down Theo's spine. 

He loops a cuff to one wrist, tightens until it clicks, repeating the process with the other wrist. Runes glow over the surface of the metal, blue and mesmerizing, flutter in tune with Liam's pulse and blend right back with the cuffs.

"Happy?"

Liam's boyish grin says it for him, "Thanks."

Nothing disturbing here, just two guys sleeping in the same space, close to co-dependent due to the lunacy that in order for them to get rest instead of nightmares they have to be in each other's space, one handcuffing the other with some possibly hoodoo cuffs ordered off an honest to fuck BDSM site. 

Nah, nothing to look at here. 

Said cuffs clink together while Liam tries to find a comfortable position, also on his side facing Theo. And then blessed quiet. They sleep. 

*

The road back is calmer than yesterday. There are no calls from either Derek or Scott, just a few update texts from Alec, assurance that he's doing alright. Theo doesn't believe it. Liam is pensive next to him, all over the place with the anxiety eating a pit in his belly no doubt. He still has to figure out a way to proceed with his parents.

Theo doesn't let him drive. 

They're back well after one in the morning. Liam makes Theo waltz back into his house with him. They're in the process of kicking their shoes off when Theo types out an affirmative to Argent that they're back. 

Theo's plan is to indulge Liam for five minutes tops, the amount it'll take Liam to write a sticky note to his parents that he's home and for him to wind down, go to bed. Later he can blame the tiredness from the long drive for not noticing Liam's parents waking up.

Liam is at the kitchen island, glass previously filled with water now drained, Theo opposite of him with his elbows on the cold surface. 

"Liam?"

A few things happen in a too fast sequence following the entrance of Jenna and David.

Liam startles to the point where he shatters the glass in his hand, shards flying everywhere, embedding themselves into the meat of his palm from the pressure. Still out of it after the full moon his shift manifests at once - eyes flaring gold, fangs and claws coming into existence. 

All of it, in just a second. Liam exposed to the people he loves the most, the ones he's been terrified to confess to since the very beginning. 

Jenna and David are as still as stone, having flinched at the shattering glass.

Liam, in his state of horror, misinterprets. He starts walking backwards, subconsciously complying with his need to run away. Theo hears him step on broken glass, in spite of all four of their elevated heart beats, catches the welling blood on Liam's injured palm. Liam's lower back hits the counter, backed into a corner. He doesn't flee, does something much worse. Legs giving out, he slides down to the floor, tries to become one with the doors of a cupboard. 

When Jenna takes a step forward, Liam's shoulders lift all the way up to his ears, eyes squeezing shut.

"Liam?" what Liam hears and smells is her fear, but had he looked at her he would see it's not aimed at Liam. It's for Liam. 

Theo holds out a hand to her and David, to signal they need to stay in place. For whatever reason they trust him, the guy they've seen for less than ten minutes. He hops over the counter, vigilant of the scattered glass, to crouch in front of Liam. To take his wounded hand and pick out the shards, one by one, with his eyes flared. 

Liam's parents itch to get near, wary of the blatant display of not normal in the form of Liam's loss of control over the shift and Theo's deliberate display of it. They're freaked out under the calm exterior, very much so. The stench of stress and wariness is enough to almost drown him with its intensity. 

At last, Jenna can't hold onto the thin thread of patience and inches towards them, lightly kicking at the glass with her slippers to pile it near the island. Her eyes grow more than a little wide upon meeting Theo's flared ones and Theo ceases all movement, adopts a hunched position himself to be perceived as less of a threat in order to dispel any further outbursts that are highly unneeded with Liam's state. David is understandably more suspicious, having followed Jenna's steps, breath catching at the sight between Theo's hands in unison with Jenna's.

Liam starts shaking, fixated on their signals, continuing to misinterpret their horror. He twists his head away, cowering, aiming to give them less view of his shift.

Jenna has gotten progressively paler, at the blood freely dribbling down Liam's palm and onto the tiles, seeping into the edges of his shirt. 

She sounds like she's on autopilot, shaken up, trying to grip her judicious side when she says, "Liam, sweetheart, we need to clean you up."

Theo soldiers on, intent on removing the shards expeditiously; the scene is getting progressively worse and it's best to finish the task swiftly, so that they understand that Liam isn't gravely wounded. Physically, at least. 

Liam emits a high noise from her having ventured near.

"Hey, shhhh, it's okay." she reaches out to stroke a gentle hand over Liam's hair, smooths it down with utmost care, like she's handling the most precious of precious things. 

"I'll go get the first aid kit." David murmurs but doesn't move an inch, expression torn open with worry so stark for his step-son that Theo feels like he's intruding. 

"No need." Theo tells him, rephrases with, "You know he doesn't need it." 

Because David is aware to some extent, what with working at Beacon Hills Memorial with the highest miraculous healing or bizarre cases of unexplained deaths and wounds. He's most definitely suspected something for a long time, just opted to sweep it in a corner all this time. And at David's simultaneously calculating and confused stare, he's going over the same information. 

True to Theo's words by the time he extracts the last of the shards all of the little wounds have closed up. Jenna observes the sole one left follow, tissue stitching itself together to leave unmarred skin. He sweeps a thumb over Liam's palm to reveal the healed flesh, or however much of it is visible under the thick layer of still fresh blood, no lacerations in sight. 

Jenna's arm extends, fingers closing around Liam's wrist, mindless of the red coating it, to drag the pad of her own index finger through the same path Theo's thumb had taken. But Liam wrings his hand away, cradles it to his chest, further twists himself into a small ball. To protect her from his still prevalent claws. 

"Liam." Jenna wraps him in her arms, pays no attention to his distressed whimper. "Shhhh, it's okay. You're okay, sweetheart, mama's got you."

Her voice. 

It crushes something in Theo to tiny pieces, leaves a void so profound he can't breathe around the sensation. He doesn't think even his own mother has ever directed such sweetness and devotion to him. After all, he was the unplanned child that lo and behold, turned out to be disabled with his heart condition, asthma, hypersensitivity and all the other shit that trailed him, then later on, a self-centered murderer. 

He's stupefied more than anything, at Jenna's love for her son. No wonder Liam turned out the way he did.

And the dam breaks. Liam's first sob shakes both him and Jenna. He hesitantly curls into her, full on bawling and quaking and it's too intimate. Theo shouldn't have the right to see this moment, it's theirs. Only theirs. 

Liam's bloody hand latches onto Theo's shirt the moment Theo goes to pull himself away, claws ripping through the cotton in secure hooks. Even so, he's still careful to not pierce Theo's skin. But he doesn't look his way. It's not even a conscious decision on his part. 

Anchors.

Theo is unmoving, human hands raised up to chest level, fingers facing his body. He doesn't want to appear as a threat, but the need to get away is strong enough to make his ears buzz. Both animals want to cut loose and scram, right this very instant. 

David sneaks up on him, Theo catching him with his peripheral vision just as he crouches next to him, behind Jenna. His sigh is deep but silent, warring with himself over what the best next step is, overly used to dissecting his time in neatly timed and planned out fragments due to his line of work. 

Theo can't even make room for him, with Liam holding on to his shirt. He realizes that wasn't David's motivation. 

David is pointedly slow in lifting a hand. Theo doesn't move a hair. That same hand, warm and comforting, finds its way to his shoulder, applies the barest of pressure in a scantily there squeeze. 

He mouths out a single word.

Stay.

And Theo, he's weak. Has been since he agreed to take Liam with him, since Liam thawed some of the iciest particles he's been studiously keeping out of sunlight's reach. He stays.

It's a long ten minutes for Liam to come back to himself and out of where he'd gotten lost in his head. Jenna and David keep talking to him the entire time, lulling him into awareness. Theo keeps poking any shard he sees in the direction of the small pile Jenna had initially created. He also takes out the few shards Liam had stepped on, places them in the pile as well. Slippers or no slippers, there's two humans that don't possess super healing. Besides, it's the best distraction he has at hand. 

When Liam finally bares his face to his parents, all golden eyes and fangs, Jenna wipes the tears away.

"Still my Liam." she whispers to him, brushing the edge of a flared eye to gather the newly formed tear there. 

He should have left. He's like a fucking voyeur at this stage. Only David discourages that thought each and every time. He's just as incisive as Jenna in this aspect, has deduced that Theo is one of the pillars holding Liam's sanity from crumbling on them. 

Jenna makes Liam take her slippers when they get up at some point in time, Theo has no fucking idea with his screwed up perception of the world around him. Liam bristles with a vocal no to it, but she just sits up on one of the counters while David takes a broom to sweep up the rest of the smaller bits of glass to the already existing pile.

Next, Jenna takes Liam to the sink, washes his hands with such a caring touch that Theo moves his gaze elsewhere.

They sit in the living area, Jenna and David on the couch with Liam having pulled Theo next to him on the loveseat when he'd tried to sit down on the floor. They're flush together from ankles to shoulders.

The explanation takes another hour, Theo steering it to take away the anxiety from Liam as to how he should structure the story. David goes rigid at Scott's name, when Liam tells them how he became what he is, any negative sentiment momentarily flowing away at but he did it to save me, I would have died if he hadn't caught me from falling off the building and his shoulders go loose. 

It's an eternity until the story gets to the Doctors' arc, a muscle at Theo's leg spasming from Liam's deliberate evasion of Theo's involvement with Scott's death, Lydia's imprisonment in Eichen, the Sheriff's near death and so on and so fucking on. 

"I was their first success that wasn't fit for the Beast, but useful enough for other things."

Liam fights tooth and nail to refrain from reacting, body vibrating next to Theo's. He does elbow him, though. 

"Other things?" Jenna asks, one leg drawn up to her chest, hands twined together around her ankle.

"Infiltration. Distraction."

Liam cuts him off in a sharp warning, not-human seeping into it. "Theo." 

A heartbeat, two, three.

"Murder."

"Fucking—" Liam hisses out, throws his head to the side, slams his arms to his chest to cross them, to unsuccessfully hide the way they're shaking. His eyes are flared too, Theo bets.

Theo remains calm, holds Jenna's now cautious gaze, and she ceases all movement at the same time David does. They were going to find out either way, might as well get it over with. 

"What he skipped over was that he was nine when they took him and cut him open to replace his heart."

Theo snorts, slants Liam a glance to be met with stormy blue. He opens his mouth only for Liam to take the relay first.

"Nine." he repeats, ever the bleeding heart. "Argent got some of the files. We know exactly how they manipulated you into it."

"Oh, really?" it's not news to Theo, Argent always covers all bases he can. "And what did Tara have to say about it, hmm?"

Gold on gold, ice on ice. 

"Theo Raeken." David says, a voiced out confirmation to a personal theory he's been going over. "And Tara Raeken."

Theo nods, lets the shift loose. 

"What power did they have over him?" this time it's Jenna, aimed at Liam. Once again she's striving to be objective, to not let Liam's emotion cloud the actual adults'—the jury's—sentence. 

Liam is like a different person when he answers her, patient and receptive. Then again he's trying to prove a point, will tug at every straw needed to reach his goal. "Goggles that can catch any and every frequency. They would have found him anywhere he tried to escape to."

Jenna hums, David crosses his arms and they both observe the now oh so glaring lack of space between Liam and Theo. Their kid isn't one of the bad guys. Then if the murderer is one of them he either has some control over Liam, has leeched his way into earning his trust, or he isn't as malicious as he portrays himself to be. 

"And did he try to escape?"

"Yes."

Yao Feng must have told them a heavily minced up synopsis of Theo's involvement with Bree's death, at the summit, while Theo was incoherent as fuck. That fucking prick.

"Okay." Jenna supplies no further give to her judgement. Her and David don't glance at each other, make no room for interpretation of how they've digested this.

Liam fruitlessly waits, swallows and continues the story. The Beast, the Wild Hunt, Monroe. The killings with unidentifiable pattern, Alec, the deactivation spree. Then he keeps zagging around timelines to prove his previous point.

"And, if Theo hadn't used himself as bait I probably would have been taken before we found out about the rails. Then, if he hadn't gotten to the hospital when Scott asked him, when he did have the option to flee, I would have been shot to death."

Theo rubs his eyes with the index finger and thumb of his right hand, shaking his head. That moronic bleeding heart.

"Last night on the full moon he was the one calming me down, during all four panic attacks. He's also the one who helped with," Liam runs a hand through his hair, indicating its newly acquired shortness. "after I wasn't able to get it cut because of werewolf things." 

"Oh yeah, that's a winning point right there. Reformed murderer, now also your friendly neighborhood barber, part-time werewolf tamer."

"Will you shut up!" 

The bellow startles the shit out of everybody, Theo's ears ringing from it. 

"You didn't come back the same person we sent to the skinwalker prison. Stop trying to paint yourself like a pariah when last night you—oh and remember Alec? The kid he saved?" Liam's body has taken on some form of manic twitching, head swinging in his parents' direction, speech becoming too fast to keep up with, "It was his first moon. Scott and Derek kinda screwed up, Theo managed to chew them out and help Alec calm down, which I told you is near impossible of the first full moon and—"

"Sweetheart." Jenna leans in, resting a palm on Liam's knee, expression warm and fond. "It's okay." it's not a dismissive font to calm him down, she means it.

That it's okay, his point of view is valid and they're taking it seriously into consideration.

Liam's eyes zig-zag between her and David, looking for a lie he didn't hear in her pulse when she said the words. They've bought the bleeding heart perspective. Terrific. 

What they don't like the most is Liam being exposed to lethal substances in the theaters he has willingly been venturing into for almost a week. Liam tries to downplay it, uses their fresh memories of his healing abilities as a last ace up his sleeve.

"If he gets in contact with certain substances or chemicals there, can he die despite his metabolism?" David prompts Theo to join in, and Theo nods. 

Not that it stops Liam from going on another rant, this time twisting it up in the form that they've known about the supernatural for an hour and a half, while he's been managing it for a few years now, that he knows a lot more than them on this topic. As well as his own abilities. This is a cruel mine, a mirror of the IED. Jenna and David refrain from making further comments, apparently having unanimously decided to continue this tomorrow. 

It's time for bed soon after, all three of them having gone off the adrenaline high and now dead tired, Theo included. 

"It's too late." Liam stops him, noticing Theo's rapt attention to the front door. "You can stay here. Bed's big enough."

Time and time again, this new weakness has taken the reins of his decision making. 

Theo shakes his head. Jenna and David won't be happy to host him, if even for a night. He's got enough conscience on him to not put them in this position. 

Or that's what he'd presumed until,

"It is late." Jenna tells him, having wiped up the blood from the island, David having swept up all of the glass from the floor. She's still reasonably cautious, albeit the sprouted understanding. "Stay, Theo."

Theo blinks in stupor at the pat on his upper arm she gives him. She then kisses Liam's forehead, stroking his short bangs back before she goes up the stairs. David does an identical action, gives Liam a one armed hug instead, followed by a fond hand through Liam's hair and a nod for Theo. 

Liam eliminates any hope, takes him by the wrist to tug him in the direction of his room. They take quick showers to wash off the road residue. Theo texts Scott and Argent while Liam takes the bathroom first, sure that Argent has already relayed to Scott they're back and gives them identical wording:

Liam's parents found out. They didn't take it bad.  

And to Scott he adds a little Don't call him yet, he just calmed down as a sure-fire, seeing as Scott's first thought would be to check up on his beta, have a soulful talk to be certain Liam is alright after the reveal.

Theo stares at the spare sweats and T-shirt Liam handed him after his own turn under the hot spray. It's probably for the best that he didn't also hand out a pair of underwear. His skin has soaked in Liam's tropical shower gel and pomegranate soap, leaving him all the more in a convoluted condition. He can't help but bring the back of his wrist to his nose, inhaling the amalgam of scents that pacify the animals in his skull.

Liam is already under the covers, was either too tired to take out another comforter or didn't give a shit they'll have to share his. Not that it isn't big enough, that's not the problem. It's the fact that they'll be too close, sharing it like it's not out of the norm. When it is.

Liam is on his side, facing the windows. Theo gets under the cover and lies facing the wardrobe, the dimmer side of the room.

The sheets are clean, freshly put, but the room still reeks of LiamLiamLiam, so pronounced and saturated. The sheer comfort it brings to his animals should be concerning, especially after his stint in the bathroom, if he himself wasn't under the same influence. Liam wiggles, rearranging himself and their backs press flush together, waits unmoving to see Theo's reaction, relaxes when Theo doesn't slither away.

Weaknesses and all that jazz. 

Theo is awake all but a minute before he tumbles off into deep sleep.

*

The unforeseen buzz of Liam's thundering phone, some pop song Theo vaguely remembers from the radio, is what wakes them up. 

Scott.

Theo just fucking knows it's Scott and his morning person bullshit.

He clicks his tongue with a hint of a growl, buries his head in the space between both his and Liam's pillows. Liam flails, having crunched up in his place, pulse through the roof at being shocked awake. Theo deletes the little bit that he and Liam were practically curled into each other, or tries to. 

Forehead to forehead, forearm to forearm. Like some pups or whatever infant animals are liable for comparison.

Liam is not awake enough to place their previous arrangement as another element out of the norm. 

"Yea?" as evident by the slurred question. 

"Are you okay?"

It leaves absolutely no room for interpretation. He feels Liam's eyes drilling holes into his skull, then the not so gentle pinch to his wrist, along with the closely following smack to the same area.

Theo opens a single eye, ticks a brow up as Liam cuts through the air with his free hand to try and gesticulate his disbelief that Theo managed to update Scott before Liam did. 

"Yeah. It's—they freaked out less than I thought they would. Theo helped. Then he made a scene and I had to convince mom and dad that he won't strangle me to death out of the blue while he's sitting next to me."

"Oh. Oh. Uh, I'm glad! About them being okay with it, not the—not the second part." Scott's relieved and happy about the news. He's probably been thinking about it since last night. "You mean he told them? About the Dread Doctors?"

Theo tenses before his mind catches up to his body, forcibly relaxes his muscles. From the slightly apprehensive scent next to him Liam didn't miss it.

"Yeah. But Theo's Theo, he always does that."

But Theo's Theo. The fuck is that supposed to mean exactly? 

Scott lets out a wry breath, "Yeah."

Out of all the conversations first thing in the morning Theo didn't want precisely this one, where he's left in for a loop at the inside understanding between those two. 

"Well. If you want, I can swing by with mom and the Sheriff, to clear up any questions they have. Or you guys can. It helps, the adults talking among themselves about it. And I think Dr. Geyer would rather be in the know before his next shift."

"I hadn't even thought about that." Liam slumps back onto the bed, jostling a near asleep Theo, arm coming into contact with Theo's forearm. "Thanks, Scott. I think they'll like that." 

Theo stretches out his hearing, to the neighborhood and birds outside. It's downstairs that intrigues him, Jenna and David are silently conversing over a cup of coffee. Hey, he can multitask, is taking advantage of their current lack of knowledge of supernatural abilities and how far they can stretch.

"You think he's a danger to Liam?" David beckons Jenna to state her honest opinion. "You're better at people evaluation than me, always have been. What's your take on the kid?"

"Liam didn't want to let him go." Jenna responds, after what feels like too long, mulling out what she'd witnessed last night. "He was barely coherent, but he didn't let go."

David hums, that's enough for him. Then again, they know Liam better than anybody else.

"I'm no expert, but when somebody is that self-sabotaging, considering Liam covered up the crack of his involvement in the story, they either do it to provoke, or."

Another silent moment, the twin sound of their mugs making contact with the island after they've taken a sip.

"To right a wrong." David finishes in her stead. 

Or, Theo mentally supplies, because he's a good actor and knows how to play people. He can't explain why it pisses him off to this degree, them completely disregarding this possibility. The whole goddamn town is too gullible, easy to manipulate and twist. No wonder Monroe managed to charm them in the blink of an eye, mythical creature of fear and doom involved or no. 

"I'm not the only one who caught that vivisection at the age of nine, right?" there's further tightness to Jenna's sentence, a note of dismay and disbelief. 

The raspy noise of a hand dragging over skin and stubble, David having run his palm over the lower half of his face. "From what Liam said about those… things, I'd reckon they did vivisect him."

This is Theo's limit. He woke up with a relatively good mental clarity. If he wants to keep it for just a smidge longer he has to stop listening and it's exactly what he does, retreating mentally to Liam's room once more.

"I dunno." he catches Liam say, when he dims his hearing to the middle point. Able to eavesdrop on the parents, in case of a sudden turn of events that will forebode badly to Liam's headspace. Old habits die hard. "Think we'll need half an hour and we can meet you at your place."

With the meeting arrangement set there's a little bit more of benign back and forth between Liam and Scott and they end the call. 

"Jesus."

Liam slaps a hand over his own face, slides it down, aborts the movement to bring it back to his hair and leaves the phone on his chest. 

"Hey, we need to get up." the little shit pokes at Theo's cheek.

Theo bares his teeth in warning, canine behavior too close to the surface when he's still half asleep. "Nowhere in this equation do I need to get to Scott's for a parent-to-parent meeting."

"What, you're staying here?"

The way he says it, Theo knows he means Liam's room. He doesn't know how he knows, he just knows. There's also a connotation he can't quite catch, something hopeful, maybe? 

"Can't. Alec. Full moon aftermath."

And that missing particle dissipates, back to the base note of irritation fails to Liam hide at the mention of Alec. 

"Of course."

This time Theo does in fact ask, "Fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Liam gets out of the bed, doesn't deem him with an answer. He trots down the stairs to his parents, coming forth with the suggestion to meet with Melissa and the Sheriff at Scott's. 

Theo takes a lungful of their combined scents, permits his body the heavy shiver that takes over his central and peripheral nervous system, lodging into his lower spine with a force that punches out a short breath. A pipe dream. It's all a pipe dream.

*

Theo gets dragged to Scott's. Unwillingly, he should add. It's Jenna that forces his hand like he'd predicted. He can't blame her. She just wants to know if the thing Liam has evidently attached himself to will do him more harm than good. 

He barely talks the entire time. Melissa ropes him into helping her with chopping up some iceberg lettuce, cherry tomatoes and cucumbers for a salad. The motion is welcome, gives him more to do than watch the awkward exchange. Argent is absent, a precaution. He'll come in later in the picture, once Liam's parents have had ample time to digest the supernatural. 

With most of their questions answered, the rest of the stay at the McCall house is more idle chatter than serious revelations. 

"He's a chimera." 

The sentence Liam reluctantly utters brings him into the space of the kitchen all too quickly. Somebody must have asked, or he wouldn't have given this bit of trivia.

David is too fascinated by the theory behind it, the science, to notice the sinister meaning. Fabricated. A fake. Glorified science experiment slash lab rat.

Malia, who's been here the entire time, who Theo had crossed his fingers would stay in Scott's room, chooses that moment to thunder down the stairs. She ruffles Liam's hair on the way to Scott, skids on the tiled floor at the unexpected sight of Liam's parents. She must have nulled her senses, missed the heartbeats and scents. Theo's back is to them, can't see what exchange is wordlessly going on.

"Uh. Hi." it's clipped, appears hostile; it's just her being awkward, unable to process how she should proceed. "I'm Malia." she quickly adds, tone brighter. 

From the skin on skin contact Theo notices with his not-human hearing, they've shaken hands and soon after exchange a nice-to-meet-you.

"Werecoyote." Liam pipes up.

Jenna and David's inquisitive streak re-activates, David being the most enthusiastic, just like during the past half an hour. If Theo wasn't what he is, a traitorous bastard with too high of a murder count and murder involvement, he would have gladly sat down with them to converse with somebody who actually wants to know the biological and chemical alterations in supernaturals in comparison to humans. But he has no place there, or in this house for that matter, the incinerating holy ground to his twisted self.

Theo, long done with the salad, takes out his phone to check in with Alec, whether he's in the apartment, awake and willing to share his space or needs more time to recuperate from the moon.

From: Alec

> Y E S !!!

> Derek is getting on my nerves with the lurking

> Absolutely NO offense to the guy but it's a bit too excessive imo 

> You're the only one who doesn't treat me like porcelain [clown emoji] [pinched fingers emoji]

Theo is surprised Scott didn't join in on the lurking, with his guilt meter having hit Saturn's rings after the full moon shitfest with the chains. He probably did, then Derek convinced him to also take care of his beta while he handles Alec. 

Heavy quotes on the word 'handles'.

So as to not disrupt the flow of the explanation Melissa is carrying out he shoots Scott a text, the vibration of it being received sounding. By default Malia also sees the Gonna go see how Alec's doing, left WB strains for Argent behind the plant in the living room (all sealed tight) over his shoulder with how she's pressed to his side. 

Liam catches the exchange, first glance at Scott, second one landing on Theo. His teeth grind together, the enamel on enamel irking Theo. He says absolutely nothing, then turns away. His scent, on the other hand, is a cocktail of hints that make Theo's nose prickle. 

He weasels his ass out of the McCall residence with Jenna and David not noticing. It would have been even better if Malia didn't follow him out. Her demeanor is cold, shouldering past him and swinging the door of the truck open, slamming it shut. 

Theo gets in, doesn't start the engine. He waits for Malia to finish scenting the inside of the truck, no doubt detecting and dismembering each and every chemo signal residue in the air, on the seats and surfaces.

She twists back, snags out an arm to carelessly pry his duffel bag open. She doesn't even have to dig, apparently finds what she's looking for on the spot.

"Liam got a haircut."

She found the scissors and hair clippers.

"Long overdue." Theo grunts, spares her no glances. 

"No. Liam got a haircut."

Theo starts reading the number plates of all the parked cars around them. "Yeah. Long overdue."

Two can play this game. She wants him to acknowledge the significance by parroting. Then Theo will avoid it by parroting. He knows she's perceptive, more than her pack gives her credit. All those years shifted has attuned her to constantly rely on her nose, a feat that didn't just evaporate now that she has her human skin on. And above all else, scent is the best way to read a situation, if you're an expert who is not easily lied to. Something Theo is and did. It's why she's a live barb wire around him. Once you fool somebody's trusted sense, their most reliable asset, it's hard to crawl out of the watch list. She can't be certain that he won't do it again at any given moment and she doesn't really believe in reformation, at least not for things (abominations) like Theo. 

"Why?"

Why did he let you do it? Why did you do it? What did you win out of it? Did you want to earn his trust, again? Are you planning on screwing us over, again? Are you lusting after Scott's power and ready to pounce at a second chance to delve your claws into his abdomen, again? 

All of those questions, meshed into a single word. 

"I offered, he accepted it."

"He permitted you." she corrects him, accentuating the word, eerily collected about it. "Why?"

"I'm not telepathic." Theo groans, leans his left elbow on the door, digs his fingers into his throbbing eyes. "Go fucking ask him, not me." 

He's tired.

It's been but a few days away, only in Liam's vicinity. He's already forgotten how on edge almost everybody in this fucking shithole of a town makes him feel. Especially people like Malia. People like Scott are easy, just evade their misguided intentions and be done with it. Malia, though? She'll never stop. She's a creature of vengeance, like Stiles. She'll snarl, bite, lacerate, cripple and demolish to get back at him. For earning their trust, then blowing the dust of its crumpled form into their eyes when they least expected it. For killing Scott. 

It's founded, sure it is. Doesn't mean Theo isn't goddamn fucking tired of it. At least with Tara downstairs it was predictable, rinse and repeat. He knows he deserves it, is why he makes himself not react the way she and Stiles want him to.

He made his bed, he'll sleep in it.

Still. He's tired. 

Malia's phone rings. She picks up, hangs up when Scott only says a warning in the form of her name, as if she's crossing a line and not in her right to demand answers to questions that shouldn't even exist. 

"He's comfortable with you. Got pissed when he learned you're leaving." 

"He gets pissed at every second event."

Give her nothing, make her angry so she lashes out,\ and hits him, satisfies the coyote with his blood spilled on her hand, and finally gets out of the truck. 

Ha, out of his home.

It's a whole new level of pathetic. 

She does none of those things. She's planning, weaving thoughts into a weapon, spinning the web, spinning and spinning.

"He trusts you." Theo can spit a plethora of comments on this one; he doesn't. "Why?"

"Ask Scott, Liam gets it from him."

This one should have worked. Malia's knuckles crack with the intensity she folds her fingers into fists, the sharp smell of her fury poignant. 

"You're a fucking asshole."

Theo lets out a sharp gust of air out of his nose, lips tugging up for a second. "Glad we agree on something." 

"Alec trusts you too."

Sweet mother of flamin' fuck. What does she want from him?

"No dice, Stiles already covered that conspiracy theory." 

"Scott said you helped him calm down, was the only one able to accomplish it, and made him willingly speak for the first time in two days."

Yeah and Theo is fifteen seconds away from willingly re-enacting Scott's horror movie worthy claws-in-his-eye-sockets moment.

"He imprinted."

This is ridiculous. It's like an out of body experience. She's not taking the bait, nor is she ceasing with the questions he clippedly answers, doesn't get deterred in the slightest. Just what universe has he stepped into? What is she on about? What is she trying to prove? 

"You were worried about him, is what Scott said."

"They chained him like Monroe did."

This, at least, gives her a pause. Throw another demon into the mix and she'll re-evaluate what route to take. Preferably one that involves her stepping out of the car and putting an end to this. If not, claws in eyes it is.

"Drive. I gotta go see Derek."

She what now?

"You have a car."

A minute drags by. He starts the truck when she doesn't add anything.

Alec is giddy, or as close to it as he can get with his reserved nature when positive emotions are in play, when Theo unlocks the door to the apartment. Happy crinkles around his eyes and a tiny smile type of giddy. Theo taps him on the shoulder with the back of his hand, sits next to him on the carpet near the sofa.

"Is it okay if I," here Alec lifts his arms, drops them back to his lap. A hug, he means a hug.

Coming from him it's an oddity. Alec doesn't hate touch, but there's a lot of instances where he'd rather not be touched at all, a byproduct of lycanthropy and his nervous system being constantly at a thousand percent. Theo has no problem with it, considering he's avoidant of touch to a big extent. It's a weapon for most, to guide you into a lull of calm and trust, he knows best, so select few have a carte blanche at the action, or as close to it as he can permit. The McCall pack is a bit too touchy to his liking in that aspect.

Albeit not expected Theo recovers fast, nods. Alec isn't abrupt with it, doesn't lunge; he leans in, curving at the waist to get into a more comfortable position for the embrace, arms looping under Theo's - palms on his shoulder blades, chin on Theo's shoulder. He grips tight, bunching up Theo's shirt, when the tremors take place. 

The noise he emits is sub-vocal, animal. The overpowering salt in the air is all human. 

Theo needs a moment, accepts the umpteenth weakness and wraps his arms around the kid's shoulders. He's been holding it since before his first full moon, too on edge to show this to Scott and Derek, then too raw from reliving his trauma and distrustful to even consider it. Theo is the one who's seen him a step away from a hot date with Death, delirious from the effect of copious amounts of wolfsbane in his veins, has guided him through control triggers. Of course the kid trusts him with this, despite the potential consequences of leaving the door open for Theo's cold entity.

"I know they didn't do it to hurt me, I know they didn't mean to, but—" cracked open and throat constricted, the voice of a child almost, is how he sounds. "But—"

It twists Theo's heart, same way Tara did all of those seven hundred and seventy-seven times.

"I know. I know, kid."

They had all the good intentions and did the exact opposite, sent Alec back in that basement to relive hours of terror in a fast sequence. And all that just when Alec had started getting better. He should have been here, prevented it from happening.

He lets Alec get it out of his system, in silent tears and trembling shoulders, in gripping fingers that further dig into Theo's skin over the shirt. Theo doesn't talk, doesn't tell him bullshit positive phrases that'll have no effect and only serve to worsen it rather than aid. He pretends that Derek and Malia aren't silent and listening in from Derek's apartment, have been since the beginning. 

The dried, salty tracks on Alec's face are the few indicators of his pain, healing having taken care of the redness and puffiness. After leaning away he tugs at his sleeves, to cover his hands and place them back in his lap, head low. 

"Hey, it's the better alternative. You let it out and now it has less of a hold on you. Don't be ashamed of it."

Brown eyes snap up, cracked open, blistering with emotion. Trusting.

Don't do it to yourself, don't trust me, Theo wants to scream at him. He doesn't.

"Then why don't you do it?" Theo stills, lungs seizing mid taking a breath. "When you get like this, why don't you do it?"

Alec is quick to understand he's ventured into forbidden territory, averts his eyes. 

"No point." he doesn't remember opening his mouth, yet it's him mumbling it. "Won't unmurder anybody."

Theo shakes his head at Alec's dinner plate eyes. He didn't know it's a hard topic, Theo won't hold it against him. 

The fridge is stocked with enough shit to concoct a chicken soup, along with the chicken tenders he throws in the oven with spices, olive oil and butter. He makes a side of mashed potatoes, heavy on the butter and milk, to go with it, Alec trailing him like a lamb. It's heavily depressing how neglected he was, both pre and after his parents' deaths. One night he'd shared with Theo that he mostly survived on scrambled eggs, toast, ramen noodles and the odd piece of boiled meat the past years. Boiled because he didn't know how to prepare it and didn't want to risk burning his parents' or his aunt's house down. Theo is more than grateful Alec wasn't anemic when he got bitten, or else his body would have rejected the bite. 

All is randy dandy 'till Theo sniffs out a familiar scent amongst the aroma of the boiling and roasting food.

He's just about to ask himself what Nolan of all people is doing here, stops part-way. No use. Today is filled with an abundance of questions and no answers.

"Don't react. I don't know why he's here, but he's not a threat." Theo aims at Alec, his priority being to keep Alec's stress down to normal levels and give his body a break.

Theo pulls the front door open before Nolan has even finished climbing the stairs. Nolan's heart skips a beat, chest struggling with his lungs having given up on taking a full breath.

Theo crosses his arms. 

"I, uh." Nolan looks like he's ready to spew a lie. His shoulders slump, giving up on the idea. "Your car is in the parking lot and um. Saw you for a split second from the window."

Theo does nothing to help urge the words out. Nolan looks down at his sneakers, not in the know that three werewolves are listening in on them. He should start taking laced shots for these types of scenarios, too, with the recurrence.

"I don't know how."

Guilt. He reeks of guilt, the tangy stench of something too sweet, at the same time acidic on his tongue. 

Theo is thrust back to that moment right after the fight with Monroe's psychopaths, right after Gabe. That night when he stayed after the fight, when he observed Nolan's manic eyes zip from bullet hole to bullet hole, when Theo told him counting them won't change what happened, when Nolan could only reply with a shaky I know and promptly fainted when he was horizontal on the McCall's couch. 

"I don't think befriending the ex-murderer is the best first step to your redemption arc." Theo finally gives him.

A slipper hits the back of his head. Theo blinks at Nolan who blinks at him, narrows his eyes in a threat while throwing back a middle finger at Alec, to not say a single fucking word about it. 

"I should—I should probably go. Sorry." 

Oh, just great. Now it's sickly guilt and sticky misery. 

"Nolan." Theo holds the door wide open, steps aside. 

Alec is with his back to the windows, arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. He catches Nolan's eyes a single time, turns to look outside. Nolan takes it personally, has no way of knowing Alec is in panic mode at the uninvited human apparating when he's still in such a vulnerable state. But Alec can't resist, keenly interested, turns back to glance at Nolan from under his curling bangs. 

Nolan's heart skips a beat for the second time in five minutes, this time for an entirely different reason. Huh.

He snaps out of it at the sound of the door sliding shut, the metal on metal too loud even for his human ears. 

They migrate to the kitchen, Theo in front of the stove to stir the soup some more, Alec and Nolan on opposite ends of the island. If it wasn't amusing, Theo would snap at Nolan to spit it out already. Neither one of them offers a hi or a name to the other, both of their heads hanging low, curled into themselves in one way or another. 

Now he's annoyed.

Theo slams the ladle into the pot. "Fuck's sake, Nolan."

Nolan jumps, the chair offering a deafening, screeching protest. Alec's hands fly up to his ears, face contorted in pain, and he flees the room to lock himself in the bathroom. With his hypersensitive hearing, he's prone to panic attacks at too abrupt sounds, particularly ones like the feet of the chair on the hardwood floor. He confided in Theo that it feels like somebody is screwing bolts into his brain, through his ear canals. 

"I—is he okay? I'm so sorry, I didn't—" Theo raises a hand to silence him; Nolan panicking further will result in Alec panicking further. That and the sequence of events was entirely Theo's fault, his own guilt churning a storm in his stomach that he couldn't control himself enough to spare Alec more mishaps.

"Full moon was a day ago. He's still recovering. Calm down." Theo slides him a tall glass of water, makes him drink it in small sips so that by the time it's empty Nolan's pulse is steady. "What are you doing here?"

The ferocity in his eyes takes Theo aback. It seems that in the month and something-something since he'd last seen him Nolan has grown some spine after all. "Can I help? With catching her." 

"Shouldn't you take that to Scott?" 

Nolan grips the empty glass tight. "I can't. Not after…" his laugh is bleak, defeated and not with a small dose of self-deprecation. "I can't even look him in the eye. His mom and Lydia almost died because of me."

"Because of Gabe."

Nolan's face spasm, jaw bulging with his teeth grit. "Who did it because in his own twisted way thought he's helping me. That makes it my fault." 

Theo isn't a kind individual by nature. He doesn't negate the statement as it's a fact. Passive fault is still a fault. Good on Nolan for admitting to it. 

"So you came to the person who killed him? Not a stellar move." it's Nolan's turn to be stunned into silence. Theo leans his hands on the island, looks Nolan dead on. "Listen, I get it. But I'm not your best bet. I'm the necessary evil they tolerate and I'm not a part of their circle. If you want to turn a new leaf, go to one of them."

The distraught expression was expected. Nolan's eyes spilling wasn't. 

He hurries to wipe away the evidence with the sleeves of his navy hoodie, nods, battle lost and he's finally accepted the reality that the courage was moot when what he hoped to be an in turns out to be one of the biggest dead ends. 

This is why Theo loathes emotions, why it used to be easier, safer, to not care and disregard everything but his own well-being. They're an unnecessary mess.

"Sorry for taking up your time." Nolan mutters, now standing, scent and face even, void. 

He sways on his feet on the trek to the door. A little voice that sounds just like Liam berates him, yells at him to give Nolan something, anything. 

But Theo isn't Liam. There's no use for false hope, to feed the hungry maw of a parasite you get attached to, that will tumble you down when it shatters, pierce you and leave you standing in your stupid, little shadow.

*

As the universe would have it, Theo crosses paths with Nolan just a few days later.  

*

He almost doesn't pick up the call from Lucia. It's been a bad day, stormy mood after stormy mood. Monroe killed nine people, three of which were under the age of fourteen. Liam had a meltdown, Scott almost had his eyes torn out for getting in his way when Liam tried to fly out of Derek's apartment. Then Liam's anger twisted itself into self-loathing at his lack of control. Malia's pacing set Alec on edge beforehand, but the high emotions and Monroe's name hanging from all of their mouths led him to complete shutdown. While Derek and Argent looked on with heavy eyes. And Theo had to simultaneously calm down both Liam and Alec.

So yeah, Theo almost doesn't pick up.

"Yes?"

"You did hear, then." it's clipped, leading Theo to believe she's also had a screaming match with somebody. 

The rest of the alphas are holding up their end of the deal, lending hands where possible, being on high alert for even a fossilized step of Monroe's and that bitch still manages to get away from them. Yao Feng is testing out the possibility of her using magic as a concealment, still has no updates for them. McKane applies his power in the military to gather intel on under the radar weapon distribution, uncanny operations and the like. Theo works with Dalton and her pack, along with Lucia's, to strategize, take ideas off the board and test others out.

Argent is pulling all of his strings with the hunter clans on the table, but that shit never ends well. They can't know which ones they can trust, whose words are molded lies while they point Monroe in the right direction anonymously.

And because of all that, because Scott thinks Theo is some genius mastermind capable of solving this pattern-less riddle, because Argent wants to use Theo's abilities with the allies, because Liam is hell bent on keeping him off the road, Theo hasn't deactivated a single operating theater since Colorado.

In short: they're fucked. 

"You can say that. Dalton have anything new for me?"

"Nothing. Last plan had too many holes in it, we can't execute it." down to a big heap of scrambled nothing, yet again. “Your biggest fan wants to go over legal matters with Sheriff Stilinski and talk hunter clans with Argent, possible double-crossers and the like.”

The surprises just keep on piling up it seems. 

“Can’t they do that over the phone like normal people? Last I checked, the Feng pack is still situated in New York, unless they’re in some fancy-schmancy ski slash spa slash beach resort.”

“You know him, his head as inflated as yours is.” Lucia coughs, hiding the snort at her own joke. The humor disperses quickly. “He wants you present.”

“And does he have to use you as a carrier pigeon all the time? Oh, right, we’re beneath him, slipped my mind." Theo places the phone on the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee, his eleventh for the day.

He hasn't had a wink of restful sleep since that night at Liam's more than a week ago. The caffeine has close to no effect, but manages to boost his coherency levels for enough time to function at a satisfactory level.

"I know you don't think he values anything you say, that he still harbors resentment and maybe he does, to a small degree, but he's aware that your razor wit is needed in this operation. That and he prefers eye to eye strategizing." 

Oh, Theo is best friends with the fact that he's a good weapon. It's what makes him get up in the morning, a stability, a habit he's used to. He exists best when he's being utilized for his natural habitat being that of logic and mapping out plans for annihilation. 

He's just furious he can't apply it for the existing theaters. And fine, he's more than a little obsessed with and fixated on them at this point, so fucking sue him.

"I reckon you're under surveillance at all times." 

Theo halts. If she's asking what he thinks she's asking then there's a reason behind wanting to catch him where no supernatural ear can overhear them. 

"Comes with the reputation. Surprisingly, the place isn't bugged and they've left me to my own devices today if you can believe it."

I'm alone and nobody will be witness to whatever conversation you want us to have, he means.

Scott volunteered to have Alec at his place today, for another apology-spewing session, and to try earn back whatever trust he lost on the full moon. Derek is there to do the same, in his own way of guidance. The kiddie party is at school and Malia is with her adoptive father, Lydia and Stiles at uni. It's a rare occurrence of Theo alone with himself for the first time since his sole worry was how much money he had and how to divide it to get both some water and fuel for the truck.

Lucia doesn't beat around the bush, "When are you leaving? You're hardly an obedient soldier, yearning to get back on the road and take care of those high numbers." the feeling of being if even a little known is a shot of tranquillity to his cortisol-flooded blood.

Theo glances up, past the dreadful curling stairs he's planning to replace with normal ones, to his secluded area of what barely counts as a second floor. Alec didn’t like being that far up; Theo left him the ground floor. There, in the small wardrobe, lay all of his belongings, arranged in a methodical order of importance so that he can stuff them in his duffel bag in under two minutes. 

He tells her the truth: "Tonight. Was thinking of heading to Argent's apartment for a green light when we're done."

Liam can go shove his ineptitude to let go of his anchor where the sun doesn't shine. The wolf and coyote's attachments can do the same. Theo at least has his priorities straight. Liam is a big boy, in his last year of high school and will be off to college next fall. He'll just have to finally face the overflowing basket he's been avoiding, yet continuously stuffing for months. It's always a bad idea to rely on somebody else for your own stability, a feat Theo himself is working on abolishing from his own system.

Lucia hums, the clack of her nails on a hard surface filtering through the connection. 

"They're not my pack. They can't control what I do of my own free will." 

The tapping of fingernails stops. She's giving him an outlet, he realizes. Her apparent fondness for him is baffling on the best days, screws with his head on the worst. 

"And as soon as I'm done deactivating them, as soon as Monroe is a cold corpse, I'm outta here." finally being able to voice it makes his shoulders ease up.

There's a smile apparent in her voice, somber, when she confirms what he's been wondering all along: "I know." 

Theo nods to himself, clears his throat. It's good, letting go of the locked up truth he hasn't spilled to anybody. He can breathe a little easier. 

"I'll leave you to it, then. Guest room is free if you have way to me and mine."

On some level he expected her to say it, but not for it to sound genuine. 

She doesn't even wait for him to recover, adds, "I'll cover things with Dalton, send your lot any updates we have on potential developments." and she hangs up.

Lucia fucking Amadio. 

Theo snorts with a shake to his head, downs the coffee in one go and gets ready to land on Argent's doorstep.

Argent's brows take a trek close to his hairline, the skin around his eyes crinkling with his narrowing eyes at the sight of Theo's duffel bag slung over one shoulder. 

"The theaters won't take care of themselves and time's a wastin'." is what Theo greets him with. 

The reason why he's here in the first place is to go over any new alterations Argent wants to implement. Because this time Theo is going on a spree. He's stepping back foot in Beacon Hills only when the digits become a singular. 

"Liam is going to be furious." Argent supplies, steps back to let him enter. 

"Kiddie party has no say in adult business. He can mope about it over his math homework if he wants."

Two hours limit is still in play. Offline time is now the heartwarming four hours, can go up to seven once every two days. However, from Argent's tense back and shoulders, he means once a week. They both are people on a mission and unlike other softies, they have clean-cut views. Theo can survive on less sleep and if he's in such a dire need of down time, he’ll set up alarms in between the two hour windows to catch up.

Then Theo tells him about what Lucia said in Yao Feng's stead.

"But honestly? He can go fuck himself. If the plebeians are not rich enough to his linking, he can hop onto one of his private planes and get his ass here." 

Argent's amused eyes catch his as Theo shrugs. Scott's pack wants to see the real Theo? They've got him now. He's not nice and he's not afraid to show his disdain when it suits him. His ego also isn't thrilled at the idea of him dragging his own ass all the way across the country, only to spend two hours on the receiving end of chins tipped high for the sole purpose of looking down at him and for him do the tight lipped act so as to not make one of the most powerful people on this continent his enemy once more. 

Yao Feng honored Bree's memory by not ending him during the summit. Because he could have, he still had the right. Theo didn't kill her, but his existence is why she's dead. Simple as that. Theo doesn't trust him.

"Ask Lucia for his details. We can talk over the phone."

Theo gives him a two finger salute, tapping it out to Lucia. He can't lie, the teenaged side of him had hoped for some sort of juicy drama, not for Yao Feng to relent and meet them three fourths of the way, on neutral territory that's closer to California than to New York; the Dalton pack's preserve in Wyoming. Tomorrow. Just another day and he's on a spree, just one more boring day.

"Are you sure about this?" Theo states his doubts, with the Sheriff on speaker from where Argent had dialed him up. 

"Ugh." Theo can picture him, fingers to the bridge of his nose, forearms on his working desk. "What choice do we have? He might take it personally if we don't go and as much as I hate to say it, his helping hand really has been helping. We have more surveillance now than what I could legally gather with Agent McCall."

"And if it's an ambush?" Argent blinks tiredly at the phone, leaning on the opposite side of the room from Theo. Only now does is dawn upon Theo that he’s in flannel pajama pants and a casual grey T-shirt, a far cry from the leather jackets, heavy boots and dark clothes.

Theo stares at the chipped edge of a chair, oddly annoying on the otherwise pristine and glossy surface of the wood. "Two humans vital for the hunt along with a chimera on another pack's territory while the alpha of the most influential pack on the continent wants to come for a meet and greet. What could possibly go wrong?"

Argent and the Sheriff sigh in unison, faced with a dilemma of a risky choice. Take the offer and face the possibility that they're traveling to their graves, or reject it and stay on the safe side of the turf, but lose the pace and momentum of the hunt.

"I've seen Dalton only during the summit, the Doctors never tried to touch her pack specifically. But Lucia vouches for her."

The Sheriff summarizes: "And you trust Lucia."

That Theo does. Why they take his trust of another alpha seriously goes beyond what he would like to stuff his head with.

So they leave for Wyoming that same night. It's a lay low operation, to Theo's surprise. Argent doesn't tell Melissa or Scott, not even Derek. To avoid getting talked out of it when it's such a precious opportunity. It's always that little fraction asking you if this is the piece you needed to solve the mystery and put an end to it all that wins out. 

Theo rides alone in his truck, at the front, with Argent and the Sheriff in Argent's car, connected over the Facetime app. His position is what delays his response, brain going over ways of escape if Yao Feng is up to something. Part of the deal, the reason they accepted, is Alpha Dalton being present, along with a few of her pack, a peacemaker if needed. 

Less than an hour into the drive, when Theo's debating whether he should switch off the Airplane mode on his phone, the Sheriff's voice brings him back into his body. "The hell?"

Theo's on edge in a matter of a second. "What?"

"A red Toyota has been trailing us for the past five minutes." Argent supplies just as Theo looks at his rear-view mirror to squint.

True to Argent's word, fucking Nolan is at the very back of the road. Human eyes wouldn't have been able to discern his features when he's that far away, but it's Nolan alright. He tells them so.

"Oh, God, not that kid again. He just never gives up, does he?"

"What, has he been following you to the station?"

“He keeps asking me how far we’ve come to catching her and if he can do anything to help.”

He can't be, could he? Monroe wouldn't—no, she would. She'll use him, place him in the middle of the act and watch from the sidelines as he gets ripped apart when he gets caught.

Argent stops his car first, tires screeching on the asphalt. Theo follows his decision, pulling the wheel to place the truck in parallel and block the way. The Sheriff is quick on his feet, out of Argent's car, braces his weight when he lifts the gun and aims it at Nolan's windshield. He won't pull the trigger, it's a safety measure.

Nolan's Toyota decreases speed, gently comes to a stop at about five meters away from them. His face is lax, eyes unseeing. If Theo couldn't hear his heart beating steady he might say he's dead. Theo and Argent share a look, perplexed. Nolan isn't staring at them, but through them.

The answer is too easy. He's sleepwalking. 

Theo nears the Sheriff, raises a hand to physically lower the weapon. "He's not conscious."

The man's expression goes sour, saturated with disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"You're not looking. So look."

Fifteen seconds later and both guns are lowered, pointed at the ground. 

And Theo's bad feeling is manifesting itself, louder than when they left Beacon Hills. Something is terribly wrong here, makes the hairs on his limbs and the back of his neck stand up. He scents the air, disregarding the trees, dirt and light mist. He still can't place what has its proverbial claws stuck in him.

He walks the way to the driver's side. Jesus, the window is down almost all the way and the idiot is only in a long sleeved shirt. Not only that, Nolan has scratched the left side of his neck raw, flesh raised and inflamed, as evident by the red on his left hand, under his fingernails and on the pads of his fingertips. 

"Nolan?" 

But he gets no reaction. No catch of breath, no shift in pulse or scent. Nothing. 

Theo brings out his phone, having pocketed it at the disconnected Facetime session. He turns off the Airplane mode. 

Oh, fuck.

"Theo." 

Theo's head snaps in Argent's direction. 

"He called me 19 times in the last hour while I was on the Airplane mode we agreed on." Theo throws him the phone, the realization that the first one was just a few minutes after Theo went offline unsettling him. "Nolan." he shakes Nolan's shoulder, pinches the skin of his throat, right under the scratches. "Nolan!"

Nolan doesn't wake up.

The adults were plenty stressed already, now it feels like a bad omen. 

What did he want to tell him? What was so important that he drove after them in his sleep? Unless he's not really asleep. A spell? Heavy disassociation episode? He doesn't smell of fear, then again any lingering traces are washed away from the open window having aired out the space of the car. 

Theo faces Argent in the hopes of finding the man more put together. Alas, he's just as shaken, eyes flicking back and forth to map out the physical evidence they have, with no outcome.

"You've no idea what this is either, do you?" 

And Argent shakes his head, slowly. Theo doesn't miss the climbing distress he can't quite seem to dampen at the moment. The Sheriff isn't even trying to mask his chemo signals, one hand braced on his hip with the gun holstered, the other rubbing just over his upper lip, clearly also trying to connect the pieces they have as of yet. 

Theo leans in, to crowd into Nolan's space, flares his eyes and lets the not-human voice of his animals seep into it when he commands him, "Nolan, wake up."

Nolan jolts, not unlike somebody being electrocuted and Theo would know how that feels, having been on the receiving end of it enough times. A strong shiver rattles Nolan's teeth, heart jumping from calm to erratic, eyes going over all three of them, then to his hands on the steering wheel. 

He emits a high distressed noise, pushing himself back into his seat.

"Wha—" he can't even form the word, gaze sliding up to Theo's assessing one. "I don't know how—what did I do?"

It's tragic, in a way, that his first instinct is to think he himself has managed to harm somebody and not that Theo, Argent and the Sheriff are the reason he's like this. 

The Sheriff steps in next to Theo, with Theo moving away just a bit to give him more room.

He’s a trained pro at this, handling people gently when they’re out of their mind. "What's the last thing you remember, son?"

What Nolan doesn't see is that the Sheriff has his radio in one hand, at the ready to relay an order to his deputies on the second. 

Nolan's wide eyes grow even wider, to the point where Theo wonders if they'll stay that way permanently or just pop out of their sockets. He squeezes them shut, inhaling a gulp of air, holding it. Argent is scouting the perimeter, gun cocked and aimed, Theo doing the same drill but with his senses. No heartbeats but theirs for kilometers on end, not even passing cars. There weren't many to begin with.

"I can't remember." he hears Nolan breathe out, his panic climbing progressively higher.

Why aren't there any cars? It's not that late in the night. Beacon Hills isn't a tourist destination by far, though its inhabitants still wander to and from on a regular basis. Whatever niggled at him that something isn't right is now screaming, blaring alarms, wolf and coyote pacing with their hackles raised. 

Theo whips out his phone, fingers quick to find the contact he needs. He has to do this while they still have service.

"Something's wrong. We're not even an hour out of Beacon Hills, but it's not right. No cars, no animals, no birds, just silence. Nolan is acting out of it, followed us while sleepwalking or, I don't know, under a fucking enchantment, can't remember a damn thing. I'm not saying Yao Feng has a finger in this, but if he does, and a shitfest does indeed occur, I'm relaying the information to you as one of the higher votes of the packs on this continent. Will send you coordinates after the message. Time of me recording this," Theo pulls the phone away from his ear to glimpse the clock in the upper corner. "Twelve fifty-two a.m."

He watches with his lower lip between his teeth, for the little indicator that Lucia has received the voice message, then adding their exact coordinates right after, Argent nodding at him when their eyes meet. The messages are delivered. 

His skin hurts from the heavy case of goosebumps, produced by the incessant shivers. What's wrong? What is he missing?  What did they all miss? 

They wait and wait and wait, for anything to happen. An ambush, a shrill sound betraying whatever is out there, anything. But nothing comes at them. It's just the wind, the light fog and the whispering leaves moving with the air. No engines, no snapped branches, no heartbeats, no breathing patterns, nothing.

The text he receives from Lucia only states, Head back immediately, I'll deal with him, and it should be of comfort, right? The meeting is off the table, they don't have to hide their whereabouts from the others, they can go back and Theo will reasonably stall his road trip for tomorrow as a starting date, as initially planned.

So why are they still on edge? What's rattling them? Is it Theo's reaction? No, it can't be that. Maybe it's Nolan's unexplained need to see a specialist for a newly developed condition. But they all feel it. The wrongness. Even the Sheriff and Nolan have stopped talking, heads twisting this way and that to try and figure out what has their adrenal glands working overtime. 

A new bout of goosebumps washes over him, then:

The SUV materializes seemingly out of thin air, hits the back of Nolan's car so hard it collides with Argent's, glass shattering, metal bending metal. Gunshots, too much light from headlights glaring Theo in the face because that same fucking SUV has gone back, is now charging at him and—

Theo lunges, twists himself to grab the Sheriff by the waist and push him to where Argent is, mere moments before the bulk of the SUV crashes into him, pinning him against Argent's car that had gone into a parallel position at the collision with Nolan's.

Ribs crack and break, pierce his lungs. The glass of the windows erupt into tiny pieces, rain over him like a waterfall, some getting stuck to the back of his neck. Blood in his mouth, coating his tongue and teeth and despite the internal damage he roars, pushes back against the SUV's hood until it bends under his palms, curling up, up, up, bunching like wrinkling fabric. 

These fuckers seriously underestimate how unhinged he is by nature and how hard he fights day and night to contain it under the human sack of meat. 

His claws dig into the hood, when the driver gulps and tries to reverse, tires screeching on the asphalt, steam rising from the friction, but Theo doesn't let go. He grips with all his might, yanks his arms in opposite directions to tear the hood in half, one piece flying over Nolan's car, the other a few meters over Argent and the Sheriff's heads, both pieces lodging themselves into trees. His arms and back burn from the strain, ligaments and muscles on fire.

He uses the momentum to drag himself up, get on top of the engine and break the front glass. He's too fast for these motherfuckers to even pull out their weapons, too fast to even fight against his agile hands that slam their heads forward, one face hitting the dashboard, the other - the steering wheel. The cracks aren't of broken skulls, he didn't have any intention of killing them when they can be used for valuable information. 

What he does do is snatch the gun off of one of the psychopaths, shoot at the back glass, then aims at the second car behind the SUV. Argent and the Sheriff are doing the same, from the sidelines of the forest edge and under the cover of the trees. 

How did they mask themselves? Just where the ever-loving fuck did they land themselves potent magic spells?

"Nolan, stay down!" Theo bellows, in case the little idiot decides to do something ridiculous like get out of his car. 

Nolan doesn't respond. Theo risks a glance, blood dribbling down his chin from the strain. Nolan is unconscious, bloody head on the wheel. The airbag hadn't activated, but he's still breathing unobstructed, unlike Theo. 

A bullet goes straight through him above his clavicle, not hitting any vital organs, just muscle. Not like he needs more shit to heal. He can barely breathe with the blood welling inside his lungs.

Theo can't say what makes him look at the other two men at the exact time he does. Sixth sense, maybe. But he's glad he does. 

Arm moving with a speed beyond what the human eye can perceive, he shoots the last three remaining bullets, hitting two of the targets in their kneecaps, the third in the same place Theo got shot to force him to lose the aim of his rifle. 

Argent and the Sheriff jump, heads snapping towards the three hunters that are now yowling in pain. All three get a kick to the stomach and a knee to the forehead, knocked out cold. 

Theo is too occupied watching the scene unfold to take into account that one of the hunters in the SUV, Dashboard kiss, has shaken into awareness. And he's now holding a gun flush with Theo's forehead. 

He pulls the trigger, psychotic smile wide, red and gleeful.

What Theo also is: lucky. The cretin had snatched the empty gun Theo himself used.

Theo not only smashes his head to the dashboard a second time, but also into the passenger side window, does the same to Steering-wheel-kiss guy for good measure. He latches onto whatever pipe he can, to land on his two feet, falls on his back with a choked gasp that delves the broken ribs further into his lungs. 

Memories of countless vivisections pass by his unseeing eyes, and he can't even make a noise. The sensation is too similar, he can't breathe around it. The asphalt is cold underneath him, not unlike a metal operating table. Blood wells in his mouth, sliding out of it to drip down his chin and neck. He just barely manages to tilt his head to one side to spit it out before it chokes him. 

Pins and needles. Pulse of over 140 bpm. Dizziness. Incoherence. It all hits him full force, out of nowhere aware of all those factors that provoke him to further suffocate. He might have ruptured organs, can't tell over the overwhelming feeling of pointy bones having dug in too deep, too deep, into the things that have to inflate in order for him to breathe and live.

And.

And.

There's a rib that's pressed against his—Tara's—heart, not having pierced it yet, just insistently prodding against the overactive muscle; it’s impossible to ignore it. It's enough. To bring him back to the feeling of a cold hand delving into his chest, through sternum and ribs and lungs, to clasp around the heart and yank it out, the sound slick and sick and disturbing. The pain of the injury makes it easy to slide into a half-state of delirium.

"Theeeeoooo."

Theo jolts at her taunt, doing the same to his insides, which is what helps push away the auditory hallucination.

But he'd slid down to check up on Nolan. His own body is too out of it to extend its focus on things such as noise. He doesn't know if the shooting stopped, if Nolan's heart isn't beating anymore, if the idiot trio in the woods killed Argent and the Sheriff, or the two from the second car did. 

Theo swallows spit and blood, reaches for the driver's side of Nolan's car to pull at the door. With whatever residue of the adrenaline he has left he pries it open, breaking the lock. He's close enough that he has to shift away so that it doesn't make contact with his face, musters the last of his power to reach over and press the claw of his index finger into Nolan's slack forearm. He'd have whacked him awake, though it's not advisable when he's unaware of the sustained injuries. 

He loses time, because the next moment Nolan is on his knees next to him, reeking of terror, tears welling in his eyes. His tremor-filled hands are up, close to touching Theo, but they don't. He's scared he'll do more damage. 

"Oh, God." he keens, high and horrified.

What he does think of is to try and lift Theo's head, to stop the blood from continuously filling his mouth.

"No." Theo stops him amidst a gasp. "Think it's fractured." it would explain the tight feeling in his head, along with the jumbled up thoughts. 

Fucking shit, if he dies due to a brain hemorrhage he's going to kill himself in the afterlife, too, If he gets to have one. He’s healed from a broken neck, but this is taking a toll on his body with the effect it also has on his fucked up mind.

He keeps losing time. Argent is kneeling to his other side, bleached-sheet pale, appalled at the sight of Theo's ribs caved inwards, of his shirt soaked with blood. Theo's body convulses and he digs his claws into the asphalt to stay as still as he can, the way he's holding his breath and the tightening of his abdominal muscles further amping the pain.

He keeps losing time. Red and blue, red and blue, red and blue. Like Christmas lights, police force edition.

He keeps losing time. He's lying down but moving. In a vehicle. Three scents - Nolan, Argent and… Alec? 

He keeps losing time. There's yelling, and he's lying down but he's moving again. A stretcher. Antiseptic and bleach. More yelling. He's choking on his own blood.

He keeps losing time. Too many scents. Terror, panic, anger, worry. His nose protests but what also protests: his lungs. He's not aware of lifting his arms until an unidentified voice stops talking mid-sentence. He's too swift and practiced for them to react in time, claws digging into his own flesh, to pry his sternum back into place and along with it - the majority of the broken ribs attached to said breast bone. They hadn't shattered, is what saved him. He keeps his hands still, holding, holding, holding 'till his body gets the memo and the ribs don't need his support to knit back together. Some are still broken, digging in, but oh, he can finally breathe and that bastard rib poking at the heart is back in place. 

"Theo! " the scream pierces through him, head flinching to the side, away from it. The damage is done, it releases a stab of encompassing agony that strikes his brain. 

Theo extracts his clawed fingers out of himself, the sound just as slick as Tara tearing through him, pressing his palms to each side of his head, shifted teeth gritting together, writhing through the pain.

"He said it's fractured." another voice, almost admonishing, like they've repeated it more than a couple of times. Then, to cover the outburst, "I—when I tried to support his head, before I even touched him, he said it's fractured."

Fractured? What's fractured? 

His skull, he supplies to himself with dizzy delay. Shit. 

He keeps losing time. Fourth voice says, "He had a seizure before the first blackout."

He keeps losing time. He's on the floor, growling, not knowing why. Is there a threat? There has to be. The wolf is this close to pouncing or slashing whatever is nearest to him, having clawed the coyote away, thrusting it deeper into Theo's mind.

Fifth voice. No, it's the one that screamed, also an overly familiar scent that's swimming in possibly all the ranges of anger and fear a body can produce, "Theo, you have to shift, okay? You gotta shift. You hear me? You have to shift."

That actually doesn't seem like a bad idea. He's tired anyway and the wolf is insistent on taking the stage and spotlight.

Theo shifts.

*

Theo wakes up to the burning stench of antiseptic and bleach, lurches up in a seated position thinking he's back.

Back with Tara.

The following moments he's still as a tree trunk, waiting for her voice to call him out, mock him that he's stuck here with her forever, that there's no place to hide. 

Just the beeping of a heart monitor connected to his index finger. He tugs it off himself and listens. Nurses, doctors, patients all going about, droning out discharge summaries or listening to them, carrying out MRIs, MRAs and CT scans, administering a new dose of corticosteroids or taking a new dose of prescribed Vicodin for the pain. 

Pain. 

Theo automatically checks his chest first. Closed, with the stolen heart still intact, under the ribs. He feels heavy, limbs overcome with pins and needles. He doesn't know why he's here. There's no wounds, just the uneasy pull of ligaments and sinew that have freshly knitted themselves back together. Then again if he was under for a long enough time there won't be traces he can see.

A click sounds, somebody in the building, leaving their mug on a wooden surface. It catches his attention because it's not so far away from the click of a safety being pulled. His mind showing him what he's missing, belated in supplying the memories as he needs to pull them out the drawer by himself.

He pulls, and it trickles in, at first at a steady pace, then a waterfall that evokes a headache to spike in the middle of his brain, in a straight line. 

He was with Argent, the Sheriff. And Nolan. What the fuck was Nolan doing there? 

A beat.

Two.

Three.

Ah.

Fuck.

Well, he didn't die of brain hemorrhage if that's anything. 

He's starving, stomach twisting in on itself, grumbling from the lack of nutrients. He's also starting to worry about his truck, the last thing he can undoubtedly call his, and whether it survived the attack. His pathetic home on wheels. The animals whine at the thought that he's left with no shelter whatsoever, but the adult in him shushes them, thinks critically that he has time to repair the damage while he's still sharing space with Alec. Nonetheless, if it's sustained too much he won't be able to get back on the road. He swallows at the idea of it being broken beyond repair. 

A sudden racket in the hallway, heavy footsteps thundering.

An acidic, hissed out "Don't fucking touch me!", then the door opens. 

Alec catches himself at the door frame, takes a shuddering inhale and promptly throws himself at Theo, making Theo almost topple over when desperate arms wrap around him. Theo's hands stay suspended in the air, blinking at the faces of Melissa and Argent. And Liam, whose mouth is tight, regardless of his unreadable face, fists clenched tight and shaking against the outer sides of his thighs.

Theo wraps his arms around Alec in return of the embrace in an automatic response, brought back to the morning when he came back, to the tears that are now just as prevalent in the air as they were then. 

"Nolan?" Theo asks Argent, who blinks incredulously at the question. How dare Theo ask if the human who was under some influence of sort, then got his head smacked into the wheel of his car and was profusely bleeding, is alive or not. "Did you figure out what happened?"

"We were a bit too preoccupied with the blood and broken bits of ribs in your lungs, then with the fifteen fractures on the back of your cranium." Liam's tone is loaded, astringent, an aura of intense wrath coming out of him. 

Liam's teeth come together, jaw bulging when Alec answers Theo's question. "Nobody knows. He's asleep, mild concussion."

"And the hunters are under locks on the upper floor." Theo immediately extends his hearing and nose capabilities, at Argent's addition. Indeed, they're sedated, with deputies and FBI agents mingling, although their chatter is quiet, unnoticeable among the usual flurry of the hospital so as to not disrupt its flow of work, which is how he missed them.

Argent's stormy eyes have taken on a new type of intensity. Theo will label it as something to look out for until he's proven otherwise. Alec pulls away, distracting him from the newly acquired piece of puzzle. He brings a hand out, fingers making human claws in his face, then mimes strangulation with both hands, face twisting in an admittedly funny way. 

"You're so fucking stupid sometimes." he spits out, throwing his arms down to dispel the urge to continue with the pantomime antics. Then he brings up a clenched fist, the knuckles of his index and middle finger making gentle contact with Theo's chin to push and shake his head back, in lieu of an actual punch. 

Theo bats his hand away, unamused, but deeply touched and a little particle of him—usually wounded and quivering and pitiful—is warm from the display, the feeling a balm to his frayed nerves. 

Melissa laughs, unbelieving. "Sometimes? I'd beg to differ." here she points at Theo, the back of her other hand braced on one hip. "Don't ever do that again, you hear me? Nuh-uh! If the word that comes out of your mouth isn't a 'yes', I'm not interested." 

Theo clamps his mouth shut. Alec steps away, peeking over his shoulder at Liam who had come closer. They reach some mutual understanding, even if the spark of antagonism is present in them both. Theo realizes Alec's words before entering the room were most likely aimed at Liam. These two need to work on whatever is irking them, although Theo is at least half certain that most of it is caused by Liam, subconsciously, and that Alec is responding to the negative feedback thinking it's unfounded and unpredictable animosity. 

Liam wastes no time, takes Theo's bare forearm between both of his palms and waits. No black lines climb up his veins. Blue on green, a lupine huff with an edge of a snarl and Liam unhands him. Even so his focus is on Theo's chest, of it rising and falling easily, with no bones digging into any tissues, his face this open and vulnerable thing. 

Alec's head goes up, from where he'd ducked it to avoid intruding on the scene, and he’s flabbergasted, looking from Liam to Theo and back. Three times total, like he's had an epiphany. Then he purses his mouth, the expression he gives Theo is not unlike the one he aims at Karens on TV, with a shake to his head and a tortured sigh. His squinting eyes force themselves on Liam, severe in their analyzation and lo and be-fucking-hold, they soften, the brown in them taking on a warm hue.

Liam notices it at the very end, if belated. It's his turn to look between Theo and Alec, apparently certain that whatever Alec has on his face should be for Theo, not himself. He's completely dismayed, frozen in place, unable to produce a sound upon putting two and two together.

"I'm gonna go see Nolan." Alec tells Liam, like he's sharing a secret. "You take care of this idiot?" 

And Liam's face breaks open with understanding, Alec's message having come through for him. Unlike Theo, standing still, disoriented. Did they just speak in another damn language? 

"Yeah." Liam answers, airy and still stuck on whatever revelation occurred here. "I will." 

"If you're done with your little pact," Theo shoves past them, shoulder brushing against Liam's and stops in front of Argent, now a step out of the room. "The Sheriff? And what did Lucia say? Did Deaton take a look at Nolan?"

He's more than a little cagey, so sue him. Argent seems to think it's a reasonable reaction, mouth twitching minutely. 

"Fine. It's not Yao Feng. No, he'll stop by in a few hours."

Liam mutters a confused what?; Argent just chose to not use too many words and answered all of Theo's questions in a single go, just like they both prefer to obtain their intelligence on the matter at hand. So Theo tips his chin down once, fixating on Melissa. 

"Can I go?"

She blinks five times in an abnormally fast succession, eyebrows getting to the highest position they can on her forehead. 

"Why not? I'm not wounded. I'm fine." 

He also needs to check the state of his truck. 

Footsteps approach them, at a normal pace. The person whistles, getting Theo's attention from the stare down with Melissa. The Sheriff. He throws something at him, the sound traveling to his ears too slow, the feeling of jagged ends digging into the meat of his palm taking too long to register after he catches them. His car keys. 

"She's unharmed. Just a stray bullet graze or two on the paint job, but otherwise no damage sustained. Not even a broken window."

Thank fuck. When Theo got shot up to be abducted for torture bonding, Monroe's specialty, he'd had to say goodbye to every single saved—and stolen—penny to replace the driver and passenger side windows, as well as the windshield. 

The Sheriff gives a half-smile, knowing. He wanted to personally assure Theo his home on wheels is safe and secure, that he still has it. Theo swallows down whatever just crawled under his ribs, to say a quiet thanks. Why exactly the Sheriff is suddenly this thoughtful is beyond him, but gift horses. He'd rather be mystified at uncanny behavior than get headaches from trying to tiptoe and make himself appear as invisible and inoffensive as possible all the fucking time. 

His luck must have run its course. The audience of four is onto the unusual event, Theo can swear he hears cogs turning. He can read Alec because of their time together, and Alec is a good student, can finally mask his heart rate when he's not under stress. Which is exactly what he does when he finds the proper combination, near to the point of unlocking the safe of Theo's secret. On the surface, nothing is out of place, except the newly acquired sharpness to his eyes.  

*

When they're left alone Liam turns his back to him, pivots on his heel halfway, unable to sustain the control over his need to keep Theo in his eyesight. He's half in the shadows, the light of the moon and parking lot harsh to Theo's eyes, so he'd kept the room dark. 

"Don't fucking do that again." he echoes Melissa's order with a crude edition to it, low and with a heavy burr. Unlike her stern posture, though, Liam's is slumped. At the same time everything about him is tense—jaw, arms, torso, the skin around his eyes and mouth, you name it. Only it's morphing out of anger and into the something Theo can't discern in his scent. Panic smells similar, is what he does know.

Then, "Why was there a duffel bag in your truck?" 

Theo hopes he transmutes that Liam should stop asking questions when he knows the answers to them. 

"Numbers aren't gonna take care of themselves, Liam." 

Liam's facial muscles smooth over and he's not even subtle, scenting the air for Theo's signals when Theo is burned out and frankly unwilling to put in the effort to mask them. Liam's chewing over each word. 

Theo considers it, discards the idea, comes back to it again at Liam's still assessing once over. Did he think Theo had packed to leave? Leave, as in permanently remove himself from Beacon Hills and everything in it?

Liam lifts the spell by throwing his now angry ass into the chair at the bed's side. He toes his shoes off, lifts his feet up on the hospital bed. 

Theo shoves them away. "I don't wanna fucking fall asleep to the stench of your feet." 

It's an act, the socks hold the fresh scent of laundry detergent. Liam petulantly brings them back up, crosses his ankles, hands clasped and resting atop his abdomen, unphased. 

The prevailing silence isn't comfortable. Theo ignores it to listen in on the interrogations of Monroe's goons. 

"You don't remember, do you?" 

"Huh?"

Liam tilts his head a bit. "When you first woke up you chose to do it during the small window where we were all elsewhere in the hospital, a total of four minutes, so you were alone. You went to see Nolan first, then them."

The 'them' part needs no elaboration.

"You were just standing there when she found you, at the door way, is what Ms. McCall said. Didn't put up a fight at her corralling you back to your room. But you stopped at the bed, told her to not shut the door and when she asked you why, you explained that Tara prefers it open."

Theo's breath catches, for a moment it's only cold in his chest cavity, blood in his esophagus and in his stomach, from having swallowed it. The revolting sweet and metallic taste of it appears in his mouth uninvited. Liam doesn't know the significance of Tara's appearance, or at least doesn't know what his hallucinations of her consist of.

"Your point being?" 

Don't react, deny any allegations and slather a mask on. 

Liam blows out a growly exhale, a flicker of gold there and gone. "My point being that this fucked you up bad enough to make you hallucinate your sister, but you're fine, right? Perfectly fine. Because there's never anything going on with you and you're always composed, no matter what. Right?"

His tone is saccharine, face screwed up in fabricated understanding, stabbing. 

Two can play this game.

"Well, fuck you need me for when you have all your answers?" Theo imitates him from intonation to posture and expression. 

Liam lunges forward, grabs the front of Theo's t-shirt, bringing them almost nose to nose in the process. His eyes dart down, a compulsion, to Theo's chest, to where the backs of his hands lay over it. 

"You also said that she'll have easier access, at least." he spits out the last two words, a dig, to show Theo he does understand what that sentence means. 

"Old habits die hard."

It's vicious, alluding that he's so used to it that it's an irrevocable part of him now, which it is. No matter how much time passes, he isn't sure he'll ever forget that triple seven, forever keeping it as a lucky number as it proclaims his freedom from hell. 

Liam's face shatters open, to the point where he has to look away from him to sink into the chair, arms moving to encompass his middle like he's sick to his stomach. His benevolent nature in contra with the twisted side that assures him his pack did what they had to do, that it was justified at the time considering all Theo did to them. Despite him meaning it when he told Theo, before they went down the road, What you've done, and what they made of you, is monstrous. But you're not the same Theo we sent in the skinwalker prison. You're not a monster anymore.

Theo remembers it word for word, plays it in the background during the coldest nights, the heavy days filled with the suffocating ringing of his sins.

Theo falls asleep in the stretched silence. 

*

Liam shoves Dora's bagel special into his hands the following morning, still a stormy cloud with ever present flashes of thundering lightning, but the tiniest bit less bilious. He looks like he's seconds away from punching the daylights out of him at any given moment, manages to smother the urge every time his eyes stray to Theo's chest with a strong sour scent trickling out of him. 

Even when David tries to, unsuccessfully, coax him to go home and sleep in something other than a chair, Liam stays. Even when he's gone for a few hours at a time to get food, or as on Monday—Theo's official green light to get out of the hospital, which is also a school day—he comes back for said discharge, keen on taking in every word his step-dad and Melissa shoot at Theo regarding his well-being like a sponge. Even on a school night, he stays late at the apartment, tricks Theo into letting him sleep the night with a roll to his eyes and a promise that Mason will pick him up in the morning. Even with the spare inflatable mattress available he pushes Theo between the shoulder blades while Alec watches them over his phone, a bit of his supernatural strength present in the action, in direction of Theo's bed and takes the left side as his own, if even for another night.

*

Yao Feng does end up coming to Beacon Hills, to have this insanely ridiculous meeting of his. True to Lucia's word he has no finger in the assault, but brings light to what type of spell Monroe might have used as the coven of witches that specializes in it fessed up on the spot when he showed up on their doorstep. They'd had an ultimatum - help Monroe and live or each get a bullet between the eyes, children included. 

With Yao Feng's thick web of intel they locate five weapon bases. Scott, Malia, Parrish, Argent, Derek and Agent McCall do the honors of disemboweling them. It still doesn't explain her sporadic killings. Theo even went to Deaton—and also, unwillingly, got Peter's opinion since he was already at the scene—for his expertise as a druid and his stunning array of knowledge. All of that, to get to no new leads. 

It's logical that if she's using magic for concealment she's most definitely aiming at performing a ritual of sort, is the conclusion Theo gets to one night, stewing over all of the pictures and files of the murder scenes. The first attempts were her going in blind, an experiment and a way to satisfy her blood lust, earn her title and reputation amongst her followers. The rest of them are more organized. Ethnicity, gender and age doesn't seem to have any significance, so long as it's supernatural beings. Some have had a close brush with death but nothing too serious, still giving them no clue to the pattern. Witches she utilities to hide her trail, to get more info on how to achieve what she wants, but doesn't kill them unless they oppose or defy her. So long as they're human. If not, off the face of the Earth they go. 

Theo hits the road for a week, all of it filled with sleepless nights, followed by nightmares when he does get a little shut-eye, and files collecting. The ones he did gather with Liam, he's stashed away at the apartment, forgoing his initial plan of burning them away. The more he collects, the more he knows what's been done to him. It feels like taking something back, some power that's been long lost. It's what he'd wanted in the first place, foolishly thinking he could retrieve it by becoming an actual alpha or stealing the Beast's abilities, by stocking up on the ingredient that he's been looking for. Thinking to himself, if I play God like they did maybe I can get back what's mine. Thinking it's all take and no give, having grown up with that blueprint. Thinking that the gaping crater of all the power lost can be filled in when it was a black hole, nothing he threw in it was enough. It was never going to be enough. Possibly never will. But knowing helps.

They still don't know what happened to Nolan that night. Monroe's sycophants didn't shine light on it, even with the forced memory manipulations Yao Feng conducted, much to Scott's shock. Hell, most of Yao Feng's stay was a shock to him as he's never been in contact with an alpha so sure of his authority, cool and calculative, without others to mellow out his attitude. What he'd seen at the summit was but a mere glimpse. Liam, on the other end of the continuum, wasn't at all impressed and kept up his Pomeranian impression, unaware that if Yao Feng wasn't amused by it underneath the marble exterior there would have been repercussions of his act. As is, Theo and Liam's codependency is all too obvious for somebody that intelligent, so he'd let Liam be, he'd been aware it was all pent up anger from the summit. And maybe, just maybe, Liam's mulish demeanor and protector complex reminded him of Bree. 

(Somewhere after the road trip with Liam, Theo resigned himself to keep on calling her Bree again. Brenna just felt cold, detached. Like he was trying to forget her when all he wanted, all he still wants, is to keep her alive by remembering.)

So Nolan ends up coming with Theo to Deaton more than once, then back to the apartment, avoiding his own home for whatever reason. The mutual interest between him and Alec grows. Alec is easy to let him in a little, a byproduct of Nolan's help after the attack. Nolan had been the one to keep Theo upright and protect his skull from further damage, propped against his chest to prevent him from swallowing more blood or actually choke to death, talked Alec down from multiple panic attacks when Argent’s reason was unable to achieve that effect. He's also the one who'd placed himself between Alec and Liam, to deter them from fighting, to maintain the peace while Theo was out. And now, Alec and Liam coming to a weird comradeship has let Nolan step into both circles, has let him be of help as he'd been starving for. The kiddie party, previously consisting of Liam, Mason and Corey, has two new additions. At present you can ask either one of five for the others' whereabouts and you'll get an immediate answer. 

It also becomes apparent that there's more to Alec's lenient inclusiveness of Nolan. The stolen glances, giving Nolan access to his personal bubble, initiating contact in the form of 'accidental' touches, taking his opinion seriously. 

Then one day, the eve before Thanksgiving, Nolan is back to his shell, that same kid fresh out of the showdown at the hospital, gazing at bullet holes in the McCall house's wall—now gone, after some magic shit Stiles came up with and Deaton performed. 

"What aren't you telling me?" Alec goes after Theo after he'd avoided supplying him with the full picture.

Theo washes the two bowls in the sink, the cutlery and the sole mug to give himself time, settling on, "It's his to tell."

"But he's doing it because he's afraid of how I'll react. That's literally the only reason he's not telling me. What's so bad that he has to hide it when you fessed up in the first hour of us meeting?"

"Because I wanted to make you hate me, to protect myself. He's doing the opposite, also to protect himself."

That leaves Alec thinking for the better part of the night, followed by texting back and forth with Nolan, a fuck ton of nail biting, despite all the throw pillows Theo aims at his head. 

"He said you should tell me." Alec proclaims while Theo is waist deep into forensic reports. He also throws his phone at Theo to prove it. Nolan even left a voice message, after Alec correctly predicted Theo would be more likely to spill if he hears Nolan say it, not just seeing the typed out go ahead. 

Alec's phone hits its owner between the brows when Theo throws it back. He isn't certain what prompts him to personally ask Nolan, via their own scarce text thread. It's a secret around Alec, one Liam's pack hasn't outed, mutually giving Nolan the space to do so himself. Or, it just hasn't come up. Might be Mason's gentle hand steering the conversations away from the topic when Alec is present. Nolan tells him to do it. So that he can avoid witnessing Alec's reaction, Theo guesses. Theo's got a bigger trunk of self-hatred, would have done it face to face if it was him in Nolan's shoes. 

So Theo talks, walks Alec through Nolan's acts throughout the first phase of the war with Monroe. Then he accentuates Nolan's reason, first being the fear of the unknown, afterwards the fear of getting killed if he doesn't do what she orders him to. Not to excuse his actions, but to give Alec all the facts.

Alec closes off, pulls the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, grows into a small ball of pointy limbs with the sense of betrayal. Here he was, making friends, possibly developing more than platonic feelings for one of them, to learn that that same person once was on Monroe's side. Once stabbed Corey with a pen to prove he's not human, once tried to make Liam shift in front of their classmates by beating the fuck out of him, to make him enemy number one, once held a crossbow in Liam's face. He can't separate it. 

Theo texts Nolan to inform him he's done with the revisiting of past fuck ups, gets a voice message after the thanks, and lastly the cryptic can you play it in front of him?; so Theo does.

"Hey. Um." Alec's head whirls Theo's way at the sound of Nolan's voice, eyes glassy. "If you don't want to be around me or contact me anymore, I understand completely, it's okay. So, guess I wanted to say thank you. And sorry." a cough, for Nolan to clear his throat or keep the tears out of his voice. "I'll leave you to it. Just tell Theo and you won't have to see me again. So. Yeah." a shaky breath, only discernible to not-human hearing. "Bye, Alec."

Alec rests his forearms on his raised knees, to prop his chin on them, then hide the lower part of his face in the fabric of the sweatshirt. His toes are wiggling in his socks, eyes still on Theo's phone. Brown on green. But Theo shakes his head from the couch, smile bitter.

"I can't decide for you." Alec's eyes squeeze closed. "If you can't handle it or can't look past that, it's better for you both to not engage in contact. But what I'd do is sleep on it, wait to see what my head tells me to do in the morning."

Alec says nothing, stays curled on his bed in the corner of the room by the gigantic windows with his music blaring. Theo pretends he doesn't catch him rubbing at his eyes more than once. He doesn't know how to offer comfort without Alec initiating it first or giving him something to go by, so he gets up to make him a cup of hot chocolate. Alec takes the offering, smile stretched thin but genuine. 

He stays up until four in the morning, seeking clues, mistakes Monroe might have made and they might have skipped over. At ten past four he gets up the newly made staircase, a normal one, not that god-awful abomination that made his head spin each and every time he climbed it. 

Come early morning, he's bombarded by texts, from the group chat Scott added him to much to Theo’s chagrin. He shuts off his phone with a groan, pulls the sleep shirt over his head to throw it on the floor. Then he rolls over to arrange himself into another comfortable position, kicking away the offending blanket keeping in a substantial amount of heat that's made him sweat. 

The second time he comes to he's lying on his back and Liam and Mason are there. The air is a bit chilly, goosebumps rising in its wake. He's too sleepy to move the arm under his head, buzzing with minuscule pins and needles, much less to pull the cover over his exposed front.

"He stayed up late going over all the massacre scenes." Alec informs them, voice raspy and not in the slightest bit welcoming. 

Mason sighs, Liam clicks his tongue. What, they thought Theo lounged on the couch, waiting for a breakthrough to fall from the ceiling and straight onto his lap? 

"Fuck do you want?" Theo grumbles, audible enough for human ears. He makes no move to get out of bed. It can't be past 10, he needs sleep to enter his top-notch, pseudo investigator mode.

"You turned your phone off." Liam climbs up the stairs, to the second floor. "And Ms. McCall said—"

He breaks off mid-sentence. Theo can't see him with his head turned away, so he cranes his neck enough to have some clear view. Liam clamps down his scent, which is peculiar in itself since he has a problem with the ability to begin with, a hand braced on the railing with the metal groaning under his palm. Then he walks all the way to the bed, takes his jacket off, having toed off his shoes at the door after one too many comments Theo has made regarding the disgusting filth he keeps dragging into the apartment, and throws himself on it face first.

Fuck no. He can't handle him when he's in Theo's bed, on Theo's territory and is going to soak in Theo's scent, reek of it. On top of it, the sheets will take on Liam's smell too. 

That, along with the fact that it'd be so fucking easy to pin him, leave him squirming, panting and begging, mouth red and wet from countless dirty kisses and nips, skin torn on elongated fangs that even his healing needs a second to catch up with. It'd also be easy for Liam to do the same, have Theo where he's comfortable and loose-limbed, pliant, willing to bare his throat in a heartbeat for bruising sucks and sharp bites with a hint of decidedly not human. Or, to pull Liam in, wrap him in his arms to throw a thigh over his hip to keep him there and just exist together, forehead to forehead, until they tumble out of reality.

"Absolutely fucking not. Out." Theo shoves him, but Liam digs his fingers into the mattress. Just another visual Theo does not need, especially here of all places. "Go sleep in your own bed." 

Downstairs Mason has started laughing, quick to catch onto what has happened.

Theo's own body is against him, not tipping the arm under his head or his sprawled legs into battle mode to forcibly remove the pest from his space. Liam shifts his head on the second pillow and he blinks at him syrupy-slow, fully relaxed with one of his hands under it, the other a bit too close to Theo and almost creating contact. 

"Nah." lips pulling into a grin, playful, blue eyes sparkling with his satisfaction that he managed to rile Theo up.

More than rile him up. Theo has his carefully crafted control over his body to thank, or this would turn embarrassing quick.

Theo kicks at him, earning an indignant squawk. He doesn't notice Alec climbing up the stairs until it's too late, the fucker having whipped out his phone and already taking a photo of this insanity. They flip him off at the same time, Liam a bit awkwardly with the hand not under Theo's pillow. When his arm falls back, after Theo's forearm precedes it, their skin is touching. 

Blue on green, a flicker of gold in both sets. Dangerous territory.

"Alec ratted your pie crafting skills out and Ms. McCall said she wants at least one apple pie tonight. Which you'd know if your phone was on."

Alec runs down the stairs, "Complete and utter slander." are his parting words. Theo leaves him be only due to tagging the warm amusement on him, a better alternative to the puddle of misery from last night.

"Tonight?"

"Seriously?" Liam blinks, eyebrows ticking up slightly. "Thanksgiving, ring any bells?"

"So? What does that have to do with me?" Theo moves his head away, aims his gaze at the ceiling.

He's not pack, that's a pack event. Easy as that. No need to wrack his brain, the animals' pitiful whining notwithstanding. He knows Stiles and Lydia are back for a little while, the first tip off to the future gathering, he'd picked up their scents in the supermarket a few days back. He's been talking himself into a numb state since then, pouring acid over any budding thoughts that'll harm him in the long run.

"Well, she was very adamant." Mason's voice carries, having taken a seat on the couch and nursing a cup of coffee Alec made for him in silent apology for the cold shoulder earlier. 

"I'm sure other members of your pack can bake a pie. Jesus." Theo turns, back to Liam, willing to withstand the chatter just to get more sleep. "Don't you have stuff to do other than bother the person who has work later?"

'Work' is how Alec classifies his obsession with murder scenes and abandoned horror laboratories, there's no other word but obsession for it at this point, a small joke that became a full-on meme of the kiddie party. 

"You're not working. It's Thanksgiving." Liam says flippantly, not getting it. There it is again, the indiscernible tint to his scent Theo can't decipher, growing in depth, suffocating him. 

Does Theo have to spell it out to him? You know what, fuck it. He can figure it out on his own. Theo is a touch too responsive to his own liking, he's not adding another sentence to this. 

Alec and Mason start their own little conversation downstairs. He tunes them out, nearing the state of more asleep than not. A shiver runs down his bare back, forcing him to pull up the blanket. Only he can't with Liam lying half on top of it. 

To hell with it. 

Theo pulls his sweats off, saluting his past self for going to sleep commando. Liam squeaks behind him, lets out a breath as Theo finishes shifting into his wolf form to curl in a comfortable bundle that doesn't need the blanket to keep warm. A gentle finger prods his coat at the middle of his spine, causing him to flinch. He twists, eyes flared, and bares his teeth. 

Liam raises his hands up, fingers twitching, "Sorry! It's just. It looks so soft." he's sheepish, cheeks pink. 

Theo huffs, lies back down. Liam extends an arm, palm facing Theo, waiting for the verdict and Theo knows he'll back off if it's a no. But it's been a few days since they've been in each other's vicinity and Theo is still tired from running on fumes the past week. He gives in, closes his eyes. 

His ear flicks this way and that when Liam rubs warm knuckles over his skull, testing out the waters. They travel down to a shoulder blade, where the fur is thicker, fingers giving airy touches, then down to one of his front paws to trace the soft, squishy pads with a slow thumb. The wolf is pliant, permitting it all with a, thankfully, figurative wagging tail. 

Before he falls asleep the last thing he hears is, "You should come over when Scott personally asked me to make you."

The sun is high in the sky as he opens his eyes, ear twitching towards the even pulse next to him. Liam is still on the bed with him, having nodded off it seems, and it's only the two them here. Alec and Mason are at Derek's, who has just come back from a meeting with one of Lucia's betas, along with Argent and Malia. 

Liam's face is lax, features feather soft in his deep sleep. One of his hands is still buried in Theo's thick coat, near his scruff. Theo considers biting at his arm to wake him up, thinks better of it at the sight of dark circles, their prominence meaning Liam's barely getting any down time if his metabolism can't take care of them. It's wrong, basking in the intimacy of the moment, taking it in like a sun bath after long months of icy winter.

Theo ends up baking the fucking pie, two in fact, after Liam whines at him like a child at the chocolate aisle for an hour, with the intention to drop him and the food off at Scott's and hightail out of there. He even has to park a house away, with the McCall driveway taken over by multiple cars already. Inside it's all mirth, laughter and high spirits of their pack. Everybody but Nolan is in there, now Mason, Liam and Alec are the last additions, Derek having gone in a little earlier than them. 

Mason gets out, grin sloping off his face at Liam and Alec's watchful eyes directed at Theo. Theo frowns, smooths his features in a millisecond, gesturing with a hand towards Scott's house. 

"Your majesties are at the castle. What are you waiting for?" he drops his palm back on the wheel. 

Liam turns to Alec, twisting himself in the front seat to do so, but Alec is counting all the cars gathered, catches himself looking for Nolan's car only to realize that with last night's reveal Nolan genuinely meant it when he said that Alec doesn't have to ever see him again. 

Liam notices the fruitless search, slanting his gaze to Mason who shrugs, braced on the open back door. "What?" he asks Alec and when he gets no answer he does another round of intense scanning of the premises, seems to detect the lack of glaring red in the form of Nolan's Toyota.

When Liam gets his phone out Alec cuts him off. "I'll take care of it. You guys go inside."

Here, Liam tips his chin up in challenge, observing Theo. Alec pokes Theo in the cheek, keeps his index finger pointed at him. 

"I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." he hops out of the truck, jogs away until he creates a distance of two blocks between them. Theo can still hear him muttering c'mon, pick up under his breath. 

"What's that all about?" Mason has retaken his seat, leeaving the door wide open with one pie in his lap, the other on the seat next to him. He'd been the only person Theo trusted to not drop the things and he's taken his duty seriously.

"It's their business. Stay out of it, Liam." 

Liam gulps, clears his throat, caught in the act of snooping. Even Theo lowered his senses to give Alec privacy, and if he did it, then they all should. 

Liam switches topics to throw the ball in Theo's hands again. "You're already here. What's the problem?" 

Theo shakes his head, props an elbow on the door to lean his jaw on his knuckles. He's not expending any energy for a fight, preferring to keep it for when it's just him and the evidence, alone on the couch in the apartment. 

Out of all the people Theo expected to barge out of the house, it's not Stiles. Nor does he expect for him to unceremoniously wrench Liam out of the front seat by the neck of his Henley, to take his place and point him and Mason to the house. 

"Off you go, one foot in front of the other, children, I believe in you." he's raised his hands, moving his fingers away from himself like he's shooing a kid to go bother its parents. 

"Not without Theo." 

"He's all yours when I'm done with him, bud. Now scram." 

Liam chokes on his spit, one moment fine, the next developing an alarming red shade in the face, neck and ears. Mason drags his sputtering ass away from the car, nearly dropping the pies as Liam flails an arm out to catch himself after tripping on even ground. 

So much for saving his energy. 

Theo says nothing, still leaning on his arm, the thumb of his free hand clasped around the lower portion of the wheel. Here it comes, being pulled apart for endangering the Sheriff and Argent by convincing them to meet up with Yao Feng, any moment now. He's going over all the ways he can shove Stiles out of his truck without causing him severe brain damage—it might not even be a big deal, he's already severely brain damaged—when Stiles opens with:

"You saved my dad and Argent."

Theo almost reacts. He's entered an alternate reality again. Screw his life, he's not in the mood for Stiles' mind games and atrocious timing.

"At first, I thought he'd misunderstood it, with the adrenaline of the gunfight. Seemed logical, you know. You fucked us over too many times to count, twisted the prism so that we see only the perspective you wanted us to see. But they both insisted you pushed him away to spare him from also getting stabbed by his own broken ribs and suffer massive internal bleeding. Then you shot three of Monroe's men, who'd sneaked up on them from the back. It just wasn't up to par with what I know about you." he's retelling it with ease, no stress in his body, no concealed fury.

Theo looks at his rear-view mirror. Alec has one arm around his middle, kicking at the pavement with the front of his sneaker, expression open. He looks away. 

He jumps at a sudden touch to his forearm, yanks it away, head swinging Stiles' way of its own volition. 

Amber eyes assesses him, peeling away layers with mental pliers. He's still, the back of his skull tipped into the headrest, blinks slow and laconic. It's the adult at the front—the one handling the trauma of all the shit that's happened to him and his pack, all the loss and horror they've suffered the past years—not the spaz teenager behind the analyzing look. 

"You done with the synopsis? Didn't need it."

Stiles smiles, wry around the edges. "You really are him, huh? The original Theo. You used to do this back then, when you didn't wanna talk. You'd sit there and listen, pretending you weren't, then whip out a bored comment." Stiles drums his restless fingers on the dashboard, tapping out a chaotic tune only he can hear. "You were always the silent type, me and Scott needed months to get you to play with us. You didn't trust easily. And you were very good at controlling your face, the less expressions the better."

Of course Stiles remembers, he was the sole person sensing the wrongness to Theo's act since the very second he stepped back into their lives. The persona Theo sold them had nothing in common with human Theo from before the Doctors.

Liam is at the McCall's front door, braced on the door case. Scott pulls him by the shirt to take his place, stance wide. Stiles must have bided his time, sneaking out while Scott was distracted. Stiles raises a middle finger with a cheery smile, shoos him away like he did with Liam and Mason. Scott closes the front door with a sigh. 

"I still don't trust you, not quite there yet. But. Thanks for saving my dad." it's not easy for Stiles to say it, he's warring with his instinct to keep a suspicious eye on Theo when nobody else is. It probably took a lot out of him, saying those words to Theo. 

Theo still does a double take, slants Stiles a dubious look. He's not falling for that. 

"Ha, I bet you're thinking somethin' along the lines of I'm so not falling for that. Bingo, right?" Stiles smacks Theo's shoulder with the back of his hand, moves it away precisely at the right moment because Theo slaps at the air where it was previously poised. "Then again, when I woke up today I didn't think I'd be thanking you for anything." he leaves it at that, hops out of the car, leans against the opened window on the passenger side. "Scott wanted to drag you here himself when Liam alluded to your reluctance of showing up, and he will if you don't get your ass inside." 

He lands a slap to the roof of the truck and retreats, the manner identical to the Sheriff's that day he'd cornered Theo regarding his homeless situation, and he wonders who copied who. A single fracture of a memory tells him it originated from Claudia Stilinski, with her hilarious jokes, mischievous character and the best, most nurturing hugs that even Theo never avoided. 

Alec takes Stiles' place, adding another slot to the rotation. His passenger seat has had a lot of attention the past few months, a hot spot for opinionated people serving him their two cents, unasked for  might he add. 

"He didn't pick up. Left him a voice message." no way in hell it was just one. "Fine, eight voice messages." 

"So your idea is to crash his place and climb through his window to haul him here?" 

Alec bites at his lower lip, pulling his sleeves until his hands are covered. "I want to say I don't give a fuck about what he did. But it's hypocritical that I've looked over your wrongdoings and didn't extend the same treatment to him." 

"And we both know the sympathies are different in either scenario." 

Alec's ears flush; he doesn't deny it. Theo heaves out a breath, reverses the truck to pull out of the driveway. 

"Tell them we're going to Nolan's." 

Alec does climb up the tree near Nolan's window, startles the living fuck out of him. Theo forces himself to mute his hearing, unwilling to soak in the emotional one on one, takes out his phone. 

From: Liam

> I'll hunt u down if u lied 

Theo leaves it on seen, taps on the screen to look at the map of the States. Too many theaters, not enough time. Scott threw a fit after Theo finished his bagel special that morning in the hospital. He'd wanted to do it earlier, but Theo was under by the time he'd come back to the facility. He, alongside Liam, didn't take well to Theo's week out of Beacon Hills either, especially when Theo hadn't informed anybody but Argent about it. He learned from his mistakes, checks in with Theo every day, sometimes even showing up in sporadic intervals at the apartment, when he's not with Derek and Malia, using the conference calls Theo juggles with the packs helping them as an excuse. It's not lack of trust, just his goody-two-shoes nature presenting itself. 

That doesn't stop Theo from planning. Come Christmas he'll be hopping states in manic fashion, diluting the chance of Monroe having more of an upper hand than she already does. Just one more week and off Theo goes. He hopes that by the start of the new year, there'll be less than the number ten on the list. 

Alec and Nolan are in the back seat, close but not touching. Nolan's parents trail them in a baffled manner, after Scott and Melissa extended the invitation to them upon learning that Alec had crashed their family dinner before it had a chance to occur. 

Stepping inside a house of a full pack leaves him dizzy, the scent taming the animals, then has them scratch at his walls with insistent claws with their energy renewed. But they too know it's a pipedream. Theo has no pack. He's just the stray ally currently useful to the cause and Kira's sword, if in pieces, is stashed somewhere in either one of the rooms upstairs. 

Theo tries to brainstorm in the havoc of dozens of conversations overlapping with one another, retreats with his phone in a corner between the two floors, at the stairs. He also may or may not be hiding from Liam's parents. Melissa finds him, hands him an overflowing plate and takes a seat next to him. 

Theo watches the plate, glances at her and back. He's fairly hungry, don't get him wrong, the food would do him good. 

"Gotta make up for all the lost ones." she says, taking a sip from her glass of red wine. It's pure magic that she'd gotten here with it in hand, while holding the hefty plate with the other. 

He's unable to string the meaning. Make up for the lost what?

"And I have to say, thank you for chipping in with the pies. They're delicious." she's trying very hard to string a topic, so Theo just nods with a quiet you're welcome for manners' sake, thinks it's going to end here after his reluctance to further this, when: "He told us. And by us, I mean the adults."

Who told them what? It doesn't make any sense—

He fucking didn't. 

Theo shouldn't be this surprised, the Sheriff has the same meddling streak this whole pack is guilty of. 

Theo doesn't pick up the fork. Melissa exhales inaudibly. With all the supernatural ears she can't talk freely, unless she wants her son and his beta to lose it. He's not so sure about Scott; his good heart might pull a little, sure. He was the direct recipient of Theo's claws and in another timeline, Theo might have succeeded in killing him permanently. He's not the same naive kid, not as easy to trust anymore, more willing to turn a blind eye for deserved and necessary repercussions. 

"It's fine." 

And it is. He's not harboring ill feelings, he got the rotten fruit of the poisonous tree he'd planted. This is just her conscience talking; they're not like him, not cold-hearted, with an elephant's memory when it comes to people who crossed him. If they were, Peter and Argent wouldn't be welcome in this house, nor would Scott have sought out Deucalian for help. 

Among all the other things today, Theo isn't in the mood for pity either. 

"Theo." he freezes at the palm on his shoulder, barely stopping himself from reflexively throwing the plate in the air. "It wasn't. It still isn't."

Theo laughs, a hollow thing, head jerking. "Yeah it was. Not undeserved either. So it's fine. Don't worry about it." he tries to return the plate to her.

Melissa's brown eyes are sad, the smell of her a little angry, her frown helpless. Anger he can deal with, at least, it's why he subtly reminded her who he is. 

"Not a chance. Alec keeps lamenting you don't eat enough when you space out and I know all too well the amount of food you have to consume with that metabolism. Don't but me. Eat." her hand, having stayed on him for the entirety of the exchange, squeezes his shoulder before she gets up. 

Something tells him this topic isn't going to be brushed under the rug. 

In the next five minutes Corey goes by the stairs, backs up a few steps to look up at him. 

They're not friends, but the ice has thawed. He accompanies Mason and Liam when they come over to have a movie night with Alec, hiding the fact that they also want more info on the hunt, hoping to glimpse at whatever Theo is working on and counting on him being submerged in it so they can look over his shoulders at the laptop screen. Corey's also accepted constructive criticism on a paper or two, when Mason was busy explaining something to Alec or Liam. All of their interactions Theo can count on both hands, and it's less than ten fingers. 

Blessedly, Corey seems to think better of ruining his happy night and walks away. Not before he mutters a hushed the pie was nice.

It's not long after that, the order in Scott's tone stark when he admonishes him.

"Theo." is all he says, from the other side of the living room, willing him to stop hiding. 

And then these fuckers have the gall to say they aren't sadists. Because that's how it feels - an extended punishment, being in the presence of a pack he's not a part of, forced to stay and witness what he'll never have. 

He spends some time in the kitchen to decompress, in Derek's silent presence at the table. Theo meets his curiosity head-on.

"I had a different picture of you in my head, from what the others told me about you." it's the first time they talk with nobody around them to stir the topics about. 

Theo lets out a sharp gust of air through his nose. "Good 'ol evil Theo."

"Before the skinwalker prison - maybe. Now? Not so sure about that." the weight of the statement lands on Theo's back. Just another victim of the Bleeding Hearts squad. "You're the reason we have this much help from the other packs. Generally, they're not that effectively roped into group assignments."

Derek knows the ways of the supernatural order. His mother Talia was well known, the family name still holding a ring to it because of her work and alliances. 

Theo shakes his head. "You had enough to make them see the point without me in the picture. And Scott would'a made them succumb with a ballad of goodness, all the while giving them the kicked puppy look to seal the deal."

Derek's face takes on an interesting expression. He would say indignation, but it's not that easy to pin down. 

"Well, he was right about your current self." and Derek leaves it at that, the cryptic and foreboding sense deterring Theo from de-tangling all the meanings. "He's glad you stayed."

Theo's eyes close, head dropping before he gets up, laugh mirthless. "Necessary evil and all that jazz." 

He doesn't seek out Derek's reaction, just sniffs out the confusion on him, hears him take a breath to try and prolong another conversation Theo has no will to participate in. Theo leaves before he gets the chance.

He gets roped into sitting between Alec and Liam, with Alec losing the tense posture almost on the spot. It's one of his first encounters with a large and loud horde of people, his fear of losing control over the shift winding him up. Now Theo is submerged in guilt for having left him to his own devices instead of being within reach if Alec needs a buffer or a way out of a situation if his sensitive hearing glitches on him to shoot bolts of pain into his brain. And to think he was this close to leaving him here alone just so Theo didn't have to deal with the rest of them. The remorse crystallizes in his stomach; he's been an awful friend to the kid today.

Jenna and David try to catch his eye more than once, the Sheriff and Melissa not far behind. He can't wait to be out of here, back on his own turf. Because he's afraid of how much he likes it, the good mood, the scent of everybody present combining into one whole. 

His phone buzzes against his thigh and upon inspection he opens a text from Lucia who has received a photo—Theo suspects it's from Scott—of his gloomy self on the couch, with Alec and Liam on either side and the rest of the McCall pack surrounding the near vicinity, having sent it to Theo herself to rip him a new one for looking like he doesn't belong.

Stop brooding and live a little, is what the text says. He sends her a knife emoji, saves the picture. 

Theo stays only because Alec has no lift later, but it turns out that he should have put it into perspective. Scott doesn’t want them to leave, makes it glaringly obvious with the kicked expression focused on the adults who have started saying their goodbyes. Nolan’s parents aren’t anxious, just a touch uncomfortable at the sudden development. They know about the supernatural, were part of the small neutral part of the town that didn’t take either side, saved from facing Monroe accusing them of treachery to humanity by the progression of the war combined with the Anuk-Ite. 

Melissa is walking them towards the door, in a last ditch attempt to make them stay a little longer. Nolan’s parents share a quick look, shake their heads with polite smiles and seek out Nolan. When they locate him, they hesitate, distinctly abashed at the scene. Alec’s back is against Theo’s left arm, facing Nolan with his eyes flared, their heads close together with Nolan examining the golden hues of his shift, then his focus goes down to Alec’s right palm, where he’d willfully extended his claws under Theo’s watchful eye. Nolan traces the pad of his index finger over the smooth surface of the curling claw, in awe, brings Alec’s hand sideways to observe them in their profile, how long they are. He’s not afraid, Alec is more concerned than Nolan is. In the end, Alec grows paranoid that they’re just begging for an accident to ensue so he takes his hand away, all the while retracting the claws and covers it with his free one to press it against his belly until his pulse calms down. But he leaves his eyes flared. They take off where they left with the previous dialogue, still close.

Nolan’s parents regard the both of them, advance, to stop at the back of the couch. Alec lets the shift go, gulping at their towering figures. Theo hears the tiny lupine sound in the back of his throat, Liam honing on it like a magnet. Theo flattens his lightly clenched hand on Liam’s upper thigh, out of view to Nolan’s parents, as a reminder to not butt in and react the way he wants to. Liam’s breath catches; he doesn’t intervene.

“Do you want to stay?” Nolan’s mother is the stern type, not unlike Lydia’s. His father is silent like Argent, but also softer like the Sheriff. Here, though, Nolan's mother leans on her elbows, on the back of the couch. 

Nolan bites at his lower lip, nods, him and his parents pinning Alec with a glance in startling synchrony. They’d already gone through the introductions at their arrival, but now Alec isn’t just one of Nolan’s random friends. They’re not blind.

“Just be sure to help with the clean-up, okay?” Nolan’s father ruffles his son’s hair, fond. 

"I will." Nolan’s smile splits his face, relieved, with warm happiness spilling out of him.  

Alec's got that appearance of having barricaded himself in his own head. Theo knows he's just timid, unwilling to make a bad first impression. Liam scents the air and Theo turns his head to him, in warning to not say a single damn word, pushing down against the thick cords of muscle of Liam's thigh.

With Alec staying because Nolan stayed, Theo has no choice but to do the same. He takes a breather outside, a cigarette between his lips, this time a Black Devil chocolate flavored one, or more like hints of chocolate amidst the tobacco and processed chemicals. Alec got them for him after a small disagreement they had a few days back, as a sorry for blowing up and making a mountain out of a valley.

Argent joins him, vigilant of the surrounding area, more so after the attack. "So." he crosses his arms, the leather of his jacket bunching together at his upper forearms, expression dry. 

Theo makes a face, exhaling smoke away from him. "Can you just not? Pretend you didn't hear shit and let it go." 

Argent hums, gaze set on the house. There could always be somebody listening in. He'll make another attempt, just not today, so they don't talk about it and Theo prefers it that way, no more surprise actions from people who despise him, making him second-guess or worse, making him hope. 

He's to share a mattress with Alec in the basement, a small blessing that it isn't Liam. Not to say that Liam didn't strike any attempts. Oh, he did, tried to convince Theo that Alec has to learn somehow and what better way to start when he's in a house full of shapeshifters? Be that as it may, he hastily solved the question on his own, that Alec would be sharing a mattress with a human, Nolan, and not somebody who can react fast enough to evade claws if Alec gets shaken up from a dream. Liam had been expecting to get a good night's rest, Theo realizes. 

Rolling his eyes to the high heavens, Theo orders him to drag his and Nolan's mattress downstairs as well. There's plenty of room and it'll halt anybody from rolling their ankle in the morning while they fail to not trip over the thing. Foolish, he hisses at himself, so fucking stupid. 

It's worth the sparkle that goes through all three of the little nitwits. They spread out with the original layout, Theo with Alec and Liam with Nolan. Then Alec migrates to Nolan, who was the furthest away from him, to go over something from the movie that was playing at one point during the night. Theo taps on his phone, having received a photo from one of Lucia's betas. The picture consists of an enormous table, each spot filled, all of them touching in one way or another. The one who took the photo is in the lower right corner to be able to fit the rest, most definitely standing on their tippy-toes. There's a lot of blurring because of the werewolf eyes creating flashes and at the head of the table Lucia has a middle finger in the air, the other hand too preoccupied with a hefty slice of cherry pie, but her grin is wide. Pleased.

"Wow. That's a big-ass pack." Liam is leaned against him to unashamedly gawk; they're arm to arm, his chin close to Theo's shoulder.

"That's one way to put it."

"There's at least thirty people there. You think we'll ever get that big?" the question is not aimed to incapacitate, yet does just that. It's an ice shard going through his left pectoral. He shakes it off mentally. Liam isn't that cruel, he didn't do it intentionally. 

So Theo shrugs. They might, with Scott's compulsion of taking in strays.

Nolan and Alec nod off next to each other. Theo resigns himself to taking the side closest to Alec, in case the worst happens, lets them reside in their bubble. It's endearing, their development. Theo hadn't expected it to say the least, but it's good and Alec is benefiting from it, integrating himself at a faster pace than Theo had predicted thanks to it.

He turns away from them, is but a moment from banging his head into Liam's who'd shifted to observe the lovebirds with his eyes flared in the darkness. A heartbeat, two, a single heatwave rolls Theo's insides. 

He nudges him away with a palm to Liam's face, quietly saying, "Ever heard of this thing called personal space?" and he drops on his back, holding in a laugh at Liam's limbs whipping about in the air to keep his balance.

"Asshole." 

Once again, in the same bed, under the same cover, in contact with one another. Liam exhales a satisfied breath. 

"See? Wasn't so bad, right? You staying." the outer sides of their arms are tightly pressed together. 

It feels so nice. So, so fucking nice. It does things to Theo he can't depict with his extensive vocabulary. It's every positive emotion on the planet, all of it jam-packed inside of him, spreading a layer of cotton softness over the pointy tips of the barb wire he's surrounded himself with. He's content. He doesn't know when was the last time he experienced this state. 

"Yeah." Theo agrees reluctantly, tone light, barely audible. He can't see Liam but he can tell he's smiling, don't ask him how. It's the sixth sense bullshit thing. 

He extends his hearing to all the members of the McCall pack, half of them asleep, the others on the way there. He breathes deep, each inhale saturated with the scent his animals associate with pack. Not his, but. He can at least watch, feel it from the sidelines, take in the vibration of it and let it pass through him. Theo doesn't dwell on it for too long, closes his eyes and this time, he stays the night.

*

Once on the road again, he takes time to deconstruct himself, bury the vulnerable parts so that they can't slow him down. It brings out the razor focus, the viciousness whirring back to life. 

Alec, Liam and Scott find out on his second day. His phone is filled with angry texts and voicemails, or in Scott's case - disappointed ones, due to Liam not dealing well. Theo's nerves hit the roof, picking up the phone to record his own voicemail for him.

"Don't act stupid, Scott. You know who Liam's anchor is, right? Tell me, how well is that gonna turn out for him in the future, huh? He has to find something else, or need I remind you of what I've done? Ask Stiles or Malia to refresh your memories if you're having a hard time in that department. Let Liam take care of it on his own or, I don't know, help him find a new way to manage the shift and the IED. He's graduating in less than half a year. What are you gonna do after? Trail him while taking your own classes?"

He hits send before he can think about it in depth. It's an emotional response on his end, although a needed one here. He gets the read receipt in the span of a few seconds, doesn't receive another voicemail or text from him. 

On his first stop, he sends Alec an apology and Liam a go cry me a river or better yet, study for your exams and leaves it at that. Corey sends him a short video of Liam and Alec pacing around the apartment at Derek's building, seething and frothing at the mouths, throwing in the words pretentious asshole every three seconds.

He loses all the warmth he's accumulated the past weeks, constantly cold, just existing. His entire repertoire of movements is mechanical, habits, no conscious intent behind them. It's bad. 

Theo is nothing if not a masochist. He collects the physical files like stickers to a trivia book, going over them to store the information in his head, keeping them to refresh it and solidify it in his permanent memory vault. It creates figments of imagination during all hours of the day. Leather clad fingers, scalpels, syringes, chains, pain where there's no open wounds. He barely sleeps, to keep up with the impromptu virtual meetings with the other packs. It's necessary, he reminds himself, it's his only way of reconstructing himself.

While away nearly everybody keeps a form of contact with him, to his disbelief. Stiles makes a group chat with just himself, Theo and Malia where they throw random insults slash threats with Theo correcting them when they sound weird or physically impossible even for a supernatural. Lydia contacts him to prod him with highly specific questions, meaning she's being kept in the loop about the tiniest of details. Derek asks for his opinion on certain packs and their traditions, when Deaton or Peter aren't available as a first source. Alec has started using him as his go-to therapist and it doesn't feel the least as a type of baggage, more so awe that he trusts Theo to the point where he lays out his troubles like a grocery haul, seeking guidance and calm in the form of Theo's natural logic. The kiddie party have him in another group chat - he does more lurking than not, unless he gets tagged to answer. Even Nolan spontaneously seeks his advice, regarding Alec and what to be careful with, what he shouldn't do under any circumstance and how to solidify the bridge—Theo is a hundred percent sure Nolan isn't aware he's aimed a projector straight at his feelings, indulges him either way. Scott still texts every day without fail, no matter that he's more often than not on the road, on a hot or cold trail of Monroe's. Hell, Parrish has resorted to using him as a plausible and credible fountain of bullshit, after the Sheriff told him one too many times to better ask Theo for a believable story when the supernatural and the human police force clash together. Argent and the Sheriff are the people he keeps up with the most, as they bounce off ideas and possible leads every day.

These little pieces of interaction are the sole bridges keeping his humanity on surface level, pull him off the edge of the cliff when the easiest thing to do is jump back into old habits. He'd be a long cold and hollow apparition walking among humans if it wasn't for them. 

On Christmas Alec sends him a wall of text filled with understanding but also with unmistakable anger, among the holiday wishes; he knows the reason behind the actions, doesn't mean he's happy with them. Every group chat is throwing the holiday cheer in, so Theo doesn't respond. Argent and the Sheriff throw in more files, of contacts Theo is to go over, and new crime scenes with the Sheriff adding a small Merry Christmas, kid. 

Liam sends him a text just before midnight, another simple Merry Christmas alongside a wolf emoji. He has a moment of contemplation, the dots of him typing appearing more than once, leaves it at that. Theo responds with a blurry picture of the crescent moon, catching the season's flickering lights and all of the red and green, from where he's sat on the roof of the truck. 

On his seventeenth day away, the day after Christmas, he loses all sense of time, deep into another heavy dissociative episode. He'd warned Argent he might be slow with his updates today, aware enough that he could predict his body's retaliation before it happened. He spends a large chunk of the day in the bathroom of his small motel room, in the filled tub. The water brings him to a weightlessness, one that keeps him anchored to the present, proving to himself that he's not strapped on a table with most of his internal organs out, on the grimy metal crate next to the surgical instruments. 

He realizes some of the wetness on his face isn't just tap water, can't pinpoint when exactly his brain had felt the need to make his wide eyes spill over amidst the depersonalization. Once noticed, the tears burn, hot, on their way down his cheeks and throat. His ringing phone rattles on the tiles of the floor next to the tub, the vibration loud and jarring. 

Theo covers his ears, a whine stemming from his chest. He wants to feel, hear and smell nothing if only for a few stolen seconds. He overestimated himself, as always, so arrogant and sure of his capabilities when all he is, is weak.

Weakweakweakweakeweak

He can't do one thing right, can he? Always has to fuck up. Even now, when he's useful he's forging his own dead ends, and when they see he's useless they'll get rid of him. So he has to be useful, he has to be.

In hindsight he knows it's the three days of no sleep whatsoever talking, and little food because he can't keep it down, that they won't just kill him for not being fast enough with the deactivation. It doesn't stop the fear from manifesting, though.

Theo brings his head forward, to slam it back into the tiles. Two cracks - one of the tile he'd hit, the other of his skull. The smell of blood predicates the trickle of it down his neck. But now the screaming in his mind is gone. It's quiet. He can finally think. 

He doesn't remember what he tells Argent regarding his nine hours of absence, just knows he sounds like utter shit, the lack of sarcasm or biting retorts sealing his case. He's numb to the bone, wouldn't have reacted no matter what the hunter said to reprimand him or remind him of his extensive list of contacts but a call away. 

There's eleven theaters left now. Almost the amount he'd wanted them to be by the start of the new year. It'll do for now or he might end up accidentally killing himself if he goes near another one. 

He takes the road back in a single trip, stops a few times to shift into his wolf form lest he wants to crash the truck with the way his hands shake. Alec is out of the apartment. Good. He can't bring his jaw to open and force his vocal strings to work. The shower is quick, he's not present for a solid ninety-five percent of it. The last thing he does is text Argent and guzzle down a bottle of water, throat hurting from dehydration. Argent can tell the rest he's back, or Alec when he returns. Theo only has sleep on his mind. 

*

He hears the voices from far away, echoes really.

"Liam, you have to calm down." an apologetic and very anxious Scott, trying to implement peace.

"Calm down? He looks like death!"

"Scott's right, he needs to sleep. You'll wake him up." Derek, tired and quiet, like he's stepped into deep waters he doesn't know how to get out of.

But Liam is torrid in his frenzy. "Why the hell didn't Argent tell him to come back sooner, huh?"

"Chris didn't know it was this bad, not with what Theo sold him—"

"Oh yeah, because it wasn't obvious from the get-go that he'll burn himself out, 'till there's barely anything left. Even Amadio said it, multiple fucking times, that he shouldn't go unsupervised considering what's in there and what's happened to him in those places." a shrill slap of paper on a hard surface. "Did you see this shit? Did you? " the last part is half-snarl, half-yell, all fury.

Then a soft object, a pillow by the sound of it, connecting with somebody.

"If you don't shut up I'll personally pull you by the hair and throw you down the goddamn stairs." Alec hiss whispers, less human than he's ever sounded, the sentence muddled with the reverberating snarl.

"And I'll personally banish you from the apartment if you test my patience any further." this one is placid, but crisp and frosty and—when the hell did Lucia manage to get here?

There's more to the fight, more people join in, more racket arising in consequence.

Theo is too far away to hear.

*

The bed he wakes up in isn't situated in a motel room. He's cold. 

"Hey, wait, no. Theo, no!"

Theo flinches away, everything blurry, and he scrambles away, off the bed, until his back hits a solid wall. 

"Don't shift. Just please don't shift." 

The fuzzy silhouette is of Liam, crouched with his hands up where Theo can see them, eyes so wide his irises are surrounded in white. For a few tense moments Theo can just connect those things as facts, can't react to them, still heavy and numb. His claws—when did they even come out?—dig into the meat of his right palm, can't do much damage because Liam surges forward and is on his knees in front of him in a second, too close, prying his fingers open. 

"No, no, no, don't do that. You're safe, okay? So don't shift." the way Liam cradles his hand is surreal; has he ever been a recipient of such tenderness before? "Theo? You with me?" 

His eyelids keep drooping down, trembling body steadily growing limp. It doesn't feel like he's fainting, but it might just be what's happening.

A hand on his cheek, warm. "Hey, stay with me, okay?" it steadies his head that'd dropped forward, keeping it balanced. "Stay with me. That's it." 

His vision gets progressively worse, black spots taking it over. He takes a hold of Liam's shirt, gasping. He can't breathe. 

"C'mon. With me. Breathe with me." Liam situates one of Theo's hands over his own chest, inhaling deep. "Just breathe with me." 

"I can't." he's growing weaker, every muscle group in his body shaking, lungs paralyzed.

"You can. You can, just brea—no, Theo, don't!" 

Theo doesn't find out what he shouldn't do, growing lax, eyes rolling back into his skull. 

The wolf slams him into the back of his mind, in the dark, where he belongs. 

*

It's warm and tranquil when awareness trickles in. Scratch that, he's boiling alive, that's what woke him up. Theo throws the covers off himself halfway, welcomes the slight chill on his exposed skin. 

A shaky inhale alerts him to the other presence. Alec watches him, on the last step of the stairs. He's buzzing with contained energy. Theo frowns, gets himself in a seated position. Why is he naked under the cover? A quick inspection confirms his theory, there's a multitude of thick wolf hairs strewn on the sheets. He pulls on a pair of sweatpants that are haphazardly lying on the floor by the bed.

"You're—you're back, right? Theo?" 

Shit. They'd witnessed the aftermath of his spree. It comes back to him in increments, all of it. 

"Yeah. I'm back."

Alec rushes towards him, taking the rest of the steps separating them, hesitates at the foot of the bed. At Theo's nod, he throws himself on the bed, one leg curled to accommodate him, the other hanging off the mattress, to wrap his arms around Theo. Theo just about catches himself from falling on his back from the weight, returns the gesture. It's not exactly comfortable, the animals under his skin unable to completely tolerate it but accept it nonetheless. 

Alec senses it, keeps the embrace short, or tries to. He needs this, so Theo pulls him in, ignorant of his own state. Alec doesn't fight it, and they stay like this for a full minute. 

"What the fuck?" Alec whispers, shaken up to his core. "Why would you do that to yourself?" 

Tara's heart clenches, splinters at the hurt in Alec's voice and signals, it's all bitter lemons. Whatever happened while Theo was down has scared him shitless, coating the entirety of the apartment. A multitudes of scents, all bearing an identical emotion of horror and fear. It can't have been that bad, right?

"Lucia came all the way from Stockton when Scott called her in panic. We didn't know what to do, nobody did." Theo lets him talk, to get it out of his system. "We couldn't wake you up and the few times we succeeded, you'd shift in your wolf form. But it was only the animal. Like you couldn't understand a thing we were saying, and even Malia's full shift didn't get through you."

Theo latches onto the last part, wondering why Malia would care enough to lend a helping hand, no matter what Scott might have used to reason with her hatred. 

"You just weren't there." here Alec leans back, to watch his face to assure himself that Theo is indeed present. "Then Liam lost it. He wouldn't leave, not even when Mason and Corey reasoned with him or when Lucia started threatening to do it for him."

Theo's brows scrunch up together, "Why?" 

Alec sits back entirely, a hot tint of black pepper and chillies to him. "Why? Didn't you hear what I said?"

"I heard. Why were they so worked up about it? I'm fine, there's just eleven theaters left now."

Alec throws his hand in the air, "You and your fucking horror labs!" his eyes flare, the huff holding an edge of a snarl. "You were comatose for four days and your first response is this? Seriously? You've gotta be fucking with me right now, you can't just—l—" 

Alec scrubs his hands over his face, hunches, then straightens a moment later. His now brown eyes examine Theo, scrutinizing everything, from Theo's scent to his body language, neither of which Theo is fast enough to smooth out. When he tries to correct this, a low not-human sound stops him. 

"You really don't get it." Alec finally gives, the fight out of him in his following exhale. 

"Get what?" all Theo can get is that he's thoroughly confused about the situation and the unneeded concern. Sleep always fixes him, like it had this time, like it has any other time when he's been on the abominable train of grisly recollections. He's had way worse than this, like really way worse.

"We found the files in your truck. And," a second appearance of Alec's anger, this outbreak more robust than the last. "I'm so fucking stupid for missing it, didn't put two and two together until it got pointed out. Until the Sheriff told us."

Jesus, he didn't. He didn't.

Theo flops back down on the bed, arms up and around his face to cover it with a groan. "Not this shit again. I already told them to forget it and pretend they didn't find out."

Out of nowhere the shrill sound of a glass breaking throws him off balance, pulse skidding to a stop. It's not from in here. It's from Derek's apartment a few floors up. He must not have subconsciously tuned his hearing, not even realizing that he's extended it to monitor the surroundings at a way slower pace than usual. He hadn't thought of doing it earlier, relieved that Alec's apartment is vacant. Another misstep on his part. He would have caught the throng of heart beats and the lack of conversations solidifying the idea that each and every owner is listening in on Theo and Alec sooner.

The slam of Derek's metal door being yanked open, the Liam, wait! following it, thundering steps down the stairs, ultimately leading to the front door of the apartment being subjected to the same werewolf strength, nearly pulled off its hinges. 

Alec reacts, gets to his feet before Liam has had the chance to run up the entirety of the stairs to hold him back. Liam growls at him for his effort, shoves Alec off himself with a force that sends Alec down to the floor.

Theo points a finger at him, up on one elbow. "You cut that out right fucking now!" is all he gets to bellow before his abdominal muscles seize and shatter any illusion of him being able to get up. 

Theo arches his back with a pained gasp, in an attempt to mitigate the pain from the contracting tissues, palms pressing over the muscles. He breathes strictly through his nose, glaring at the ceiling. Loss of electrolytes. He needs to replenish those. The unexpected reaction of his body to the abrupt movement has aided in halting Liam's fury, the right amount of distraction for him to get under control. 

His eyes stay flared, teeth and claws still sharp and deadly, but there's coherence. Concern. 

Theo watches him from his helpless place on the bed, mouth pressed tight at the second bout of cramps, now spreading down to his legs. He accidentally bites through his tongue on pointy canines, teeth most definitely stained ruby red when he bares them. 

None other than Lucia Amadio climbs up the stairs, shoving Liam away, who falls down next to Alec—ha, karma's a bitch—to sit on the edge of the mattress and guide Theo into a more seated posture. The glass she brings to his mouth is filled with clear liquid, eyes flashing a deep red when he hesitates, but within less than half a minute the contents are in his stomach. 

"We couldn't give you IV drips more than twice, you stayed shifted for too long. And the canine parts of you didn't want to negotiate." she explains, voice steady, in defiance with her entrance to the scene and her piercing eyes. "Are you fucking demented?" 

Theo knows that if he wasn't this weak she'd whack him. The duo on the floor observe them, Liam giving Alec a quiet sorry when they glance at each other. Alec kicks him in the shin, light and benign. 

"You could have stopped by if it was this bad, kid." even whilst saying it she's aware Theo wouldn't have permitted himself to be seen as this fragile. So why tell him this in the first place, he wonders.

"Been through worse. I'll survive." 

Lucia holds his eyes with a deadpan stare, signals muted and a straight line, unlike Alec and Liam. She takes one of his forearms, to leech the pain out of him, and with it gone his everything goes fuzzy, head spinning, causing the room to shift on its axis. He clenches his teeth together, breathes steady at the first bout of saliva flooding his mouth, warning him that he'll empty the contents of his stomach if he moves. 

Lucia speaks, informing him, rather than suggesting, "Next time, you're not going alone."

"Next time?" Liam blows up, disbelief warring with his anger. 

Theo wants to make him shut up, can't with the need to puke around the corner. He snags his arm away from Lucia to grip the sheets and mattress with both of his hands. He has to keep it down, or it'll worsen the electrolyte dis-balance. 

Alec ventures down the stairs, comes back up, quiet on his feet. From the crinkling of plastic and the thud of metal on wood, Theo can tell it's a saline drip, along with the stand it will be hooked on. Theo bares his left forearm. His body has started metabolizing the abomination Lucia made him drink, but it won't be enough to replenish his system. He fucking loathes not being able to see what's happening around him, despite the super hearing. 

His eyes open on their own accord upon sensing Liam's movement, him getting closer to the bed, taking Lucia's place when she gets to her feet to arrange the IV drip on the stand. Liam's eyes fleetingly cross with Theo's, before he lowers them to insert the cannula. Didn't he have a fear of needles? It's probably a good thing, the shock of the action helps with the protesting stomach. And Liam's fingers, oh so capable and familiar with violence and blood, are feather soft on his now too sensitive skin. Careful. Caring. Theo is struck with it and fights a shiver, but his shuddery exhale he can't control. Liam also uses this to his advantage, takes Theo's remaining nausea away.

Lucia swings a single look at them, rolls her eyes with exasperation regarding something Theo might be way too aware of. 

"You can't keep doing this, Theo." Liam is shaking with anger as he tells him this, head bent low. He forces himself to shake off the emotion in order to keep the cannula still as he connects the IV drip to it. 

Liam probably has all the right to state it, seeing as he's witnessed firsthand what Theo goes through, if a more diluted version of it, while they were on the road together. 

The moment is interrupted by Malia, who has creeped into the apartment and up the stairs on quiet paws, used to her coyote form more than her human suit. Alec tenses upon noticing her, caught up in having not noticed her before she made herself visible, leans on one hand in what Theo recognizes is a move away from putting himself between her and Theo. Liam and Lucia just observe, the latter more cautious but wanting to see how things play out. After all, she is on another alpha's territory, her high status notwithstanding.

Malia flicks brief glances at all three of them, lastly landing one on Theo, canine eyes flaring ice blue. She seems confused, is what Theo can gather, however unable to deduce at what exactly. She bypasses Alec, rubbing her side against his closest arm to make him relax and he does, his wolf recognizing the gesture as a nonthreatening one. Malia sits on the floor, having full visual of Theo from this position and all Theo can do is frown, he himself taken aback. She tilts her head, huffs. Theo knows he looks horrible, if he has to go by the sweat beading at his forehead, temples and around his mouth, from the restraint needed to keep the contents of his stomach in said stomach. 

She hops on top of the covers, sniffs the air, and her cold nose bumps against his lower arm. Theo reflexively flinches, making her back away, ears flicking back, then to the side and again facing forward. 

"No." Liam berates her, having caught up with whatever Theo hasn't. He's maneuvered himself to lean horizontally over Theo's pelvis to brace a hand on the bed, next to Theo's right hip, the one closer to Malia, and is using his arm as a barricade. Their thighs are flush together. His face is stern, a rare look on him. 

And Theo remembers a part of Alec's blabbering retelling, that Malia had shifted to try and get through him while he was shifted, in the dark about the fact that what she was facing was the animal, all of it, instead of part Theo and part wolf. 

Liam pulls back when Malia makes no second attempt to come closer, but keeps their thighs flush together. Theo thumps the back of his hand against said thigh, with the same arm connected to the IV drip, in a silent command for Liam to explain. Liam sucks both his upper and lower lips inwards, like that time in the elevator, eyes zooming between Theo and Malia. 

"You shifted." he supplies, the statement of no help whatsoever.

"No shit, Alec told me."

It's also Alec who brings clarity, "No, you shifted. In both forms."

Liam makes a weird noise when Tara's heart skips a beat, then redoubles its efforts. 

"That's not possible." Theo's sure of it. He hasn't been able to shift into a coyote for years now, after having been forced to pick one animal and keep the second for infiltration purposes. 

"You did." Liam has let go of his arm to rub his palms together, clasping them. "When Malia came in, in her full shift, you stopped growling. Then, just, outta nowhere it was a coyote and not a wolf standing in front of us."

That is not possible. Fucking Christ, he must have been heavily out of it in order to accomplish such a feat. Just how far has he managed to single-handedly damage his own brain?

Theo drags a hand over his face, pausing to rub his index finger and thumb into the inner corners of his eyes. "Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint. Don't think it's happening again." the laugh he gives is bleak, rattled. 

He doesn't think the memories from before, when he could drift between shifts seamlessly, are there anymore. He can't recall the feeling. It leaves a black and indigo bruise, beneath sinew and ligaments, deep within. 

Malia stays, reason unknown. She lies down next to Alec, perks up when Scott and Derek enter the apartment, closely followed by Argent, Mason, Corey and Nolan. Stiles and Lydia are the last to come in, Lydia shooting warning glance after warning glance at Stiles. The look Scott gives him is a close cousin with the one of painful betrayal, when he found out Theo isn't the nine-year-old kid he'd been best friends with once upon a time, when he realized Stiles was right all along. This version isn't accusing, nor is it actual betrayal Scott is feeling. He's hurt because he thinks he should have caught this before the fallout had the chance to play out before them; he's been in contact with Theo every day, he should have seen the signs, should have noticed, is what he's castigating himself with. But Theo is a proficient con-man, weakened state or not. Scott's virtue should be taken into account, his need to do the right thing and show kindness in the face of a gaping maw with bloody, razor teeth. He's bitter at himself and angry at Theo for once again hiding under his titanium layers.

He also gets clued in that today is the thirty-first of December, a day they all should be spending with their families, as a pack, and here they are wasting their time with Theo, you know, the former enemy. 

"I said I'm fine. You can all go." and he is, more or less. He's certain he can sit up and walk on his own after the help from the IV drip, doesn't need a multitude of nannies who have better shit to do.

Lucia and Scott share a dry look. It's yet another dent, them twisting this like Theo is a misbehaving child when he's an adult with a head on his shoulders.

"Yeah, and pigs have suddenly gotten the ability to fly to the moon and back." Stiles gets an elbow to his side for his effort.

Theo swats Liam's hand away, when he gets to his feet and the insistent fingers try and make him sit down again. He takes a set of clothes, closes the bathroom door after himself and locks it just to irk them. They don't leave. He spends the time under the spray going over what pieces he's collected of his scattered memories, especially over the possibility of them having read all the files he's collected. It's childish, how it feels like a breach of the little privacy he had, but it's not like he doesn't deserve it. They don't trust him, might have flipped through them thinking it's his new plan for world domination or leeways to obtain more power and fuck them over once more. Doesn't mean he isn't bitter about it, the biting, sour smell of it just barely drowned by the body soap and shampoo. Why can't they just leave him be and go spend the holiday at their homes?

Liam is still sat on the edge of his bed, head going up when Theo emerges from the bathroom. The rest are downstairs. 

"Go home, Liam." 

Blue eyes turn golden, the muscles in his cheeks protruding when he clicks his teeth together, grinds them. "What the fuck is your problem?"

All chatter has ceased. Great, the audience is in on it.

"That you're all still here when I'm fine. Jesus, don't you have a celebration to prepare for or something? Go home."

Pepper and chili, pepper and chili from every direction, nose stinging from it.

It's Alec who blows up. "You know what? No." he's taking two steps at a time, advances towards Theo and would have stood in front of him most likely, if Liam's head hadn't snapped in his direction from the sudden appearance, eyes shifted. "What? You wanna tell me you're on board with his bull?" 

"Nobody is on board with his bull." Derek supplies from downstairs. 

Stiles is quick to follow up with, "Not even me, if you can believe it." and a tortured sigh from Lydia, having given up on silencing him.

"Well either you leave, or I'm leaving."

Theo's brain connects the strings in such a slow manner, he isn't fully cognizant of the overtone and how it can be heavily misinterpreted. Not until Alec and Liam freeze concurrently, not until it's also bitter lemons in the air amongst the pepper and chili. 

"Theo." Argent's tone is stern, carries like a cold mist around the room. "Let's go for a drive." 

Scott calls out Liam's name before Liam reacts. Alec stares down at either Argent or Scott from his perch at the railing, perhaps at both of them, then at another person. 

In a few minutes, Theo is riding shotgun with Lucia at the wheel, Argent and Scott in the back seat, in Lucia's black, flashy car that has a surprisingly comfy interior despite the sharp appearance. Theo overhears the arguing from the parking lot, a saga of Liam versus everybody present, that turns into Liam and Alec versus everybody present. 

"I think it's high time we address your martyr complex and the lack of understanding of your own trauma, along with the fact that you're one of the most intelligent, yet at the same time the most dimwitted individuals I've had the misfortune of meeting." is Lucia's starter, her hands on the wheel relaxed while she gets them out of the parking lot and onto a busy street. 

"I'm not stopping you."

"And you're not defending your case either." Argent crosses his arms, the leather of his jacket creaking with the movement.

"What for? You all have a solid opinion, mine means jack shit."

Scott pushes his head between the front seats, highly offended. "That's not true. We just want to understand."

"Understand what, Scott?" Theo doesn't even hide the exasperation. They've been on this topic more than once. "More theaters online means more aces for Monroe to find and shove under her already bulging sleeves. Less theaters equals a bigger chance we foil that from ever happening. Simple as that. What's so hard to understand about that?"

Scott doesn't falter, not in the least deterred by Theo's well aimed verbal spears. "The price." he breathes out. "The price is what I don't understand. What we all, apparently, can't understand." 

Here's the thing. If it was condescending or held the barest of hints of friction or patronization Theo would have zipped his mouth, would have stuck to not spilling a single word. But this is Scott we're talking about, the same magnanimous goof who called Theo and asked him, begged him, to help Liam against the hunters in the hospital. He's struggling to adapt Theo's actions and super stupid, self-disregarding strategy to his own database of consideration. To him, to them, or most of them anyway, Theo went on a suicide mission, as suggested by the speed he was going at or the demolished layers of his sanity, which his body needed four days to fix in order for him to regain consciousness. 

"This is war. You need to once and for all have a meeting with your own self, sit down, lay out all the facts and finally see that we have almost no leads and no hints as to what she's doing, Scott." Theo turns a little in his seat, catches Scott's eyes that are focused on him with rapt attention. "We don't have time to linger. It's fast and agile, not slow and laggy. And for that speed? There's always a price. Get used to it."

Lucia groans, makes a pained face. "Sweet baby Jesus, are you done with the edgy one-liners? I don't know how you tolerate this shit, Argent. Better spill some anti-dumbassery management tactics. Yoga?"

Argent lets out a sharp gust of air, "Pilates helps." Theo can't even tell if he's playing in on her joke, answering her or both. 

They each state their opinion that what Theo did is to have no repeating, ever, some decks to his level of intelligence, later softened by Scott's altruistic nature, and so on. 

Lucia takes them to Dora's, in what might be pure chance. Theo tries to hide his attachment, fails miserably. Scott just smiles upon witnessing Theo's interaction with Dora, this big, dopey and dimpled grin that makes Theo ignore him, unused to it being aimed at him. Lemurs have more self-preservation skills than Scott, it's lamentable in a way. He gives Dora a helping hand in the back for a brief ten minutes, pretends he's not a second away from wagging an allegorical tail when she pats his head, ruffling the strands along the way, before pulling him in for an embrace. He at least manages to hide his face from the ever presently gawking trio. It's worth it, the little breath of fresh air he experiences every time he takes but a step inside of this homey place. 

"Ya promise to drop by soon, darlin'? That last wave of silence was very rude of ya." in spite of the words, she's shining a crooked grin, handing him a bagel special and promptly refusing to take his money once again. Even when he points at the gawking trio, mainly Lucia, who's paying. Dora doesn't budge.

The drive back is quick after that and it does nothing to prepare Theo for the way his orbit is thrust out of its axis faster than he can say a curse. 

Halfway through the drive, Scott receives a text from Derek, stating they need to get to Scott's house ASAP, offering no explanation. Lucia breaks more than seven laws while she swerves them through the packed roads and by the time she parks, Theo and Scott are winded up, jump out of the vehicle the moment the car is unmoving. The rest are all in the backyard. 

Theo scents the air, recoils and is forced to step back to keep his balance, like he's taken a werewolf punch to the gut.

"Theo?"

Theo doesn't acknowledge Scott, lunges to the side of the house. 

It's not true.

It can't be true.

He knows it's not true so why—

For once, his body is ahead of his thoughts, doesn't give him time to assemble the clues before he's seen them with his own eyes. The way he's shaking, quivering, and barely able to catch a breath, much less stand on his two feet, makes everybody present do a startled double take. He doesn't give a damn. All he has eyes for is a single figure, a memory that shouldn't be standing at the edge of the trees surrounding the McCall backyard. 

The figure jolts, advances a mere step from the shadows. Behind it is another person, one Theo doesn't know. But this one. This one is a name etched into the back of his ribs, a bloody face he'd last seen years ago, on the ground with its neck broken. 

Is he dead? Did they crash the car? Because that's the sole reason he should be able smell this combination of scents.

Mangoes. Honey. Smoked tea leaves.

Is it a trap, magic, a concealing spell aimed to disarm them and splinter the barricades while their attention is elsewhere? It's possible. He can't find it in himself to care. If he dies with the scene in front of his eyes being his last moment on this wretched and vile earth, he'll die in peace at having had one last glimpse of this. 

Her name tumbles out of his mouth, a whisper, a plea for this to be true. 

"Bree?"

Her expression fractures, exposed, eyes welling with a brittle, pearly grin a voiceless you still remember me, then you still remember me. And Theo can't fight it any longer, he surges towards her.

Notes:

Thank you for reading (and sorry for the cliffhanger)! Any and all feedback is welcomed and appreciated, it's fuel for the motivation and muses!

Chapter 6: I'll teach you how to split wood, you'll teach me how to be good

Notes:

I'M ALIVE. It took me some time getting through the writers' block that hit me at the end of the last chapter, ended up writing 34k in the span of five days during the holidays and it's finally done, another lengthy chapter of 54k words. My first monster fic is finished and I have all of you kind souls to thank, with your constant kudos and especially the comments (some of which were my only motivation at one point, you know who you are). So, here we are. I cried, I laughed, I hurt my own feelings, multiple times in a row, but it's done! In reality, I was supposed to post this yesterday, but thought to myself, "you know what, throw some more scenes in this bad boy" and added another 5k, so it's just in time for the New Year. I hope you've all had marvelous holidays (if you celebrate Christmas, if not I still hope the last days of the year were kind to you) and I wish you a splendid New Year!

Content Warnings: this one contains torture around the middle of the chapter (not to be confused with SA, as there is none), not an overly long scene, but it's there and it's graphic. It starts at "He's strapped to something" and ends at "centuries of ancient magic".

This chapter's title is from "Pim Stones - Neon Lights" because I'm a sucker for this song and it's one of the reasons I started the fic to begin with, a fitting circle imo.

Thank you for staying with me for the ride, and I hope you enjoy!

They meet in the middle and become a mess of limbs, clutching with brute force. 

Before that Theo had heard a multiple yells of his own name. He doesn’t care.

Mangoes, honey and smoked tea leaves. Underneath that scent is a lurking mass of the second person’s own natural blend of earth, thyme and chamomile. Theo moves his head just enough to catch the standing figure that's still in the shadows of the trees, half-hiding behind one of the larger trunks. Her dark curls fall to her shoulders, thick and shiny, dark skin holding an unmistakable sheen of energy that’s mostly invisible unless you’re actively seeking it.

A witch.

Theo curls a protective hand over the back of Bree’s skull, the other he places between her shoulder blades. 

“Quit it, she’s with me.”

Theo is still more than a little overwhelmed, unable to focus on a single element. His mind can’t supply what should be a priority - his long dead best friend’s sudden and overly suspicious appearance, the witch tagging along with her—why would Bree willingly go with a witch in the first fucking place when it was a coven that partially helped kill her?—with her fidgety stance, or the delegation of stress behind him. It’s too much.

That may be, he still doesn’t want to let go. It means he’ll be able to step back to conduct a thorough play-by-play of the events and might unveil ill intent, deception or face the fact that this may as well be a cast illusion to—

Bree wacks the back of his head, forcing his teeth to clack together. “I can hear you thinking. Still as loud as ever, huh?” 

They separate, but scarcely. It’s just the right amount for them to be able to catch each other’s eyes without losing the bubble they've created. Hers dart to the formation that’s as still as stone in Scott’s backyard. She lifts a single brow, after a brief flash of consideration crosses her face. Theo shakes his head, they’re not my pack he means. That only makes her expression harden, assessing them in a harsher light. 

Then the most glaring detail of all sinks its teeth into him.

“Does your brother know?”

Just as he says it he hears Liam answer Scott with a clipped Yao Feng’s little sister, the same sentence Theo had shared with him all those weeks back, and catches the sound of heels colliding with the ground. Lucia.

Theo pulls them up to their feet before Bree can answer, from where they’d fallen on their knees upon crashing with one another. The animals decide for him. He places himself between Bree and the rest, unenthusiastically giving his back to the witch. But she’s one, he can partially decapitate her before she can count to three and with the sudden and powerful rush of adrenaline in his veins, he’s certain he can pull it off. 

Lucia is a straight line to the others’ chaotic scents. He doesn’t think he’s seen them all this vigilant in a while, with the same cagey and distrustful expressions they’d aimed at him when Liam pulled him back to the land of the living. 

Bree side-steps him to place herself to his immediate right. “Alpha Amadio.” she bows her head a little, forcefully eases her body language and leaves her scent untouched and open for dissection.

Lucia takes just another step towards them, stops, cocks her head. "Brenna."

This is the woman that 'welcomed' Theo on her territory, before she saw with her own eyes that he had no involvement with Ryan, one of her newly turned wolves that suffered a gruesome demise. Merciless and calculating, with a note of biting chill to her aura, her eyes burgundy and severe in their assessment. The strike first, ask questions later version of her. 

Theo extends his right arm, lifts it in front of Bree in a semblance of a barrier, one foot drawn back because instinct is telling him a fight is more than likely. None of the others have made a single move forward, even those like Liam and Alec who are desperate to do so. 

“Step aside, Theo. You’re not stupid.”

Theo just situates himself completely between her and Bree, but since Bree has always been a hardheaded, impulsive cretin while staring death in the face, she kicks at him and pulls him back to his original standpoint. She also lifts the sleeve of her left arm up to her elbow, showcasing it to Lucia. On the unmarred skin lies a black sigil, lines criss-crossing and overlapping, forming a shape that Theo can’t really put, but is familiar with from somewhere. 

A shift behind them of more rustling, of the witch also pulling her sleeve up from what Theo can put together. He darts a lightning quick look at her and sure enough, an identical replica of the same sigil is situated on the exact spot. Lucia clicks her tongue. Theo shuffles memories like a deck of cards in his head, seeking out the answer he knows is in one of them. Witches, their variants and types of magic play through, their characteristics and specialties, and finally:

“She’s a necromancer.” he breathes out to Bree, catches her eye for confirmation and receives it in the form of a subdued nod. She damn well knows the reputation that type of magic comes with.

Now that Theo’s judgement isn’t clouded, when he can finally observe, he notices something extremely uncanny. Bree has aged. She’s not a sixteen-year-old apparition with the ability to attain a corporeal form and keep it for an extended period of time. She’s flesh and blood and sinew, living.

His head snaps back in direction of the witch, stepping so that his back is to Lucia. The thing about necromancers is that they’re overly rare, unusually potent with their magic and more than a smidge unstable. The power utilized to perform their spells and rituals requires more chaos than order, more raw influence and energy. They’re also not to be looked down on, because where there is ground, soil to be exact, there is also a conductor of power for them. In this case it's ceaseless if he tries to attack. That and: there’s always a limit, even for them, a time-frame in which they can bring a soul back into its body. It’s why they can generally only summon spirits of the dead, help them stay manifested with neat tricks and robust spells. Never truly living, never truly a person anymore, kinda like him in a sense - a fake, an imitation.

The witch brought Bree back within the three hours or so of her death. And she’s somehow managed to veil her up, keep her hidden for years, even from Yao Feng’s intelligence and his ever-present eyes everywhere. 

“No.” Bree grabs a hold of his wrist when his irises flare.

Theo pulls her a step back with him, closer to Lucia, tries to bring them closer to the rest, his instinct sounding an alarm throughout his entire body.

“I said, no.” this time she holds a growl in her tone and the tips of her claws dig into his skin, through the thermal. Not enough to draw blood, only to state a point.

The witch has, in the meantime, taken to staying once more half-hidden behind her chosen tree. She doesn’t even smell like a super powerful necromancer to be honest, they tend to carry with them a highly specific smell of ozone that makes you all types of dizzy, and the crisp scent of freshly fallen rain. This one is more like a senior in high school who’d gotten ready for a date, then got roped into some bull she didn’t sign up for—if he has to go by her fancy red dress, new leather jacket and shiny boots, or the vast assortment of jewellery. When Theo dispels his shift the witch perks up, lifts a hand to very reluctantly wave with a nervous, dimpled smile, sweat beading at her temples from her level of stress. 

She appears as though she's seconds away from fainting. And see, Theo can recognize fellow cons fairly easily, the bastards that know which parts of themselves to shield and which ones to leave open, how to make the act more than believable, execute it to perfection. Either this is a highly skilled individual that's going to make Theo look like an amateur and give him a run for his money or just a regular teenager, there's no in-between.

"Naya? You okay?" Bree doesn't turn, yells it over her shoulder.

"Define okay." the witch tilts forward in an awkward angle at the waist to better glimpse past them and see Scott and Co. She blinks with her mouth open, straightens and lifts a hand with her index finger pointing up, only for her wrist to flop as she brings the limb back to herself. "Definitely not okay. Didn't you say we're not going to get killed? This feels like we are getting killed. By multiple people at the same time."

She's rambling, the sourness of her fear and anxiety strong enough to irritate Theo's nose. She's also started breathing at an accelerated pace, droplets of sweat now also on the rest of her face and her throat, pulse too high. There's this sweetness, the unpleasant kind, that drifts to him. 

"Pocket." Bree tells her and sure enough the witch startles, reaches to get out a chocolate bar before Theo has the chance to even tense his muscles further, and takes a large piece to plop it into her mouth. Theo places the sickly sweet scent and rocky, uneven pulse as overly low blood sugar. 

He slants Lucia a look, who is just as conflicted as him. Is this Naya girl a threat or not? Is Bree a threat in disguise? 

"Theo?" Liam's voice gets to him, it's purely a habitual move when he turns enough to face him. 

The rest are ready to lurch into a fight at the smallest of signals, coiled for a pounce. Liam is at the front, must have tried to venture near, prevented from stepping too close by Scott's sure hand around one of his wrists. His eyes, the blue in them dark and turbulent, keep darting between Theo and Bree and Naya, can't settle for more than a few seconds and when they do, it's always on Bree. Theo shakes his head.

Stay back. 

Liam grits his teeth, body twitching in an uncoordinated wave that's telling to what his opinion on the matter is. Scott doesn't let him come any closer than he's already gotten, attempts to gently pull Liam back a smidge actually, but Liam yanks at him and the effort is down the drain.

Bree diffuses the situation by taking a seat on the cold ground, crossing her legs with her palms clasped together in her lap. Theo sits down next to her, knee to knee, frowning. She gazes up at Lucia who's not swayed by the seemingly mundane occurrence just a while ago, settles to look at Theo.

"When you howled, after they got you back, she felt it." Bree tilts her head in Naya's direction, evidently trying to start an explanation and lost as to what method would be optiomal. Her teeth grind together for a short moment, at the reminder of the Doctors. "At that time, she knew she possessed some type of magic, but not the essence of it. Her family has centuries of it in their bloodline. So when she sneaked out to investigate, drawn by the aftershock of the feeling, she found the secluded site. They didn't even hide my corpse, those horror clowns." she laughs, the dark humor as present as ever.

Theo flinches, forcing himself to straighten again when there's witnesses all around them. This is too fucked up. He's both here and there at the same breath. Surrounded by the bodies of the coven that tried to kill them, now dead, hears the snap of Bree's neck next to his ear. The day that the door to his cage opened, so he could crawl out on hopeful limbs, ending in him losing the sole friend, nearly a sister, he'd naively wanted to keep by his side for as long as the fates would have it. Elation and devastation, all meshed up in the same twenty-four hours. 

"She thought I was unconscious, tried to turn me on my back, 'till surpri—se, you just discovered a dead body, woo-hoo! New level unlocked!" she brings her hands up in an ironic cheerleader whoop, sans the pom-poms, drops them back down. 

"Oh my God, she’s worse than you." Stiles miserably pipes up in a mix of uneasiness and disbelief; simultaneously after that Derek slaps a palm over the lower half of his face, an aggravated Scott shushes him loudly and Lydia jabs her elbow into his ribs. The pained sound he produces is muffled by Derek’s hand.

Lucia is back to initiating gargoyles, unmoved by and uncaring of the theatrics, just biding her time until the fatal slip comes. This isn't easy on her either. If it's not a ploy she'll have wounded the most influential, on this continent, alpha's baby sister. She has to weigh her actions to precision, otherwise she's risking the lives of every single one of her pack members.

"The shock of it made her magic react. You know when you wake up after a nightmare and the shift takes over without you even feeling it?" Theo nods, trying to remove the presence of the others from his radar, and she points at him. "That's the feeling."

"And she'd already established a point in time of physical contact." he realizes, eye locking with Naya who has her own palms clasped in front of her, fingers wiggling with her distress. 

With a witch not knowing of their necromancy inclinations, it was an instinctual emanation of magic, she had no control over it. It still doesn't matter and it still makes no sense.

"It's not the bringing back to life part, Bree. It's the after. It's been five years since then. Five. Even Yao Feng couldn't find you and—he doesn't even know, does he?" he's so rattled by it all that his body tries to expel the stress through a stinging laugh. "I'm having a very hard time believing all of this, I mean why didn't you go to your family?" he waves one arm about in a chopping motion, in agitation, his gums itching. 

It's not adding up and he loathes it.

Bree makes a juvenile face, rubs the knuckle of her index finger over her mouth in the thing that usually predicates her spilling something ludicrous.

"Remember when I said it's highly unlikely for me to be able to pull off a full shift? Yeah, well." she lifts a shoulder. "Only problem was that I kept it for too long and I couldn't shift back. And I didn't really remember anything when Naya brought me back in the first place." her attempt at popping the balloon of pressure kind of has the opposite effect and she sees it on his face, in the tension around his eyes and mouth, exhales slowly to keep herself from reacting to it.

It's not adding up, is the backlog of doubt singing a shrill opera that takes over all of his senses.

It's also too convenient. Oh, look, I shifted while under mental strain without undergoing the usual process of werewolf evolution to achieve the state, stayed that way for five fucking years, then here I am back again, like I never died. Oopsie-daisy.

The smile that pulls at her lips is bittersweet. She knows what he's thinking and it pisses him off to no end. If this is another creature, a phantasm standing before him, able to recreate her demeanor, way of talking, untimely humor and everything that makes her Bree, he's going to have even more severe trust issues than he already does. 

So she does the only thing to convince him. 

She grabs a hold of his arm at a speed he can't react, and the abruptness of it triggers the animals, the claws, which she forces him to pierce into the back of her neck. 

Then,

There's something missing, is the feeling going through her. He's gone, is what she's thinking, but who is he? A friend? A brother? Where did he go? 

Then,

A human girl's wide, amber eyes stare up at her in terror, making to crawl backwards and away from her. 

Then,

The urge to shift is the last haven she has, it's all panic and fear inside of her and it's too much, she can't even remember, doesn't know what she should remember. The drawer where the memories sit is empty, void of even a telling and guiding crumb. What is she? Who is she? Who was she looking for?

Then,

The human girl with magic presents her as a friendly dog she found on the road. The human's mother doesn’t buy it, so she makes a run for it, paws sliding on the sleek wooden floor, hitting a wall on her way to the door.

"Wait! It's okay. It's okay, see?" the human girl has sat on the floor, hands raised, with her hopeful face so trustingly open. The mother has stepped back, retreated. "We won't hurt you. We just want to help." amber eyes catch the early morning light that falls through the windows; they're like pretty stones, shiny. 

She tilts her head, nose in the air to scent their intentions, ears pinned back. They're not lying. So she stays.

Then,

The human girl constantly tries to make her shift back, to that uncomfortable and loud form that also makes her look human, too. Spells, incantations, rituals. But she doesn't want to go back to that place where her mind was packed with too many thoughts. This form, the animal form, suits her better. Hurts less.

Then,

How did the human girl even find her? Was she looking for somebody? 

Then,

The human girl and her mother converse at the table in the bright room. She's lying on the fluffy rug, tail covering her snout. 

"There's this guy, Theo, in my class that's so moronically convinced that—"

Her eyes snap open.

Theo. Why does that name hurt? It's a human name. She's not human. So how does she know that name hurts?

Theo. Who's Theo? Where is Theo?

The memory springs out like it's out to get her.

There's a human boy, looking at her with a twisted and broken face, with a parting smile for her. But, "Theo, don't —!" 

The three figures apparate like ghosts, quick and nimble and unseen, too agile, and before she knows it there's one in front of her and it grasps her by the head, by the chin and by the upper side of her skull on the opposite side, and it twists—

She's backed into a corner when she blinks out of the nightmare, the human girl on her knees before her, rubbing at her head with gentle hands, shushing and comforting. 

And all she can think about is: where is Theo?

And,

Theo's back in the present, gasps when he fully slams himself into his own body, arms flying out to catch his weight on the ground behind him. Lucia yanks him away, so there's now some distance between them and Bree. Theo feels his chest reverberate, hears the growl stemming from it a second after, but Lucia's crouched form next to him is not trained on him. Finally, she does turn to face him, ruby on gold.

"What's the verdict?" her voice is low and clipped, a thread of emotion starting to show itself.

Bree has remained in her cross-legged pose, hands back in her lap. It's only her shoulders that make circles to alleviate the uncomfortable sensation of the still healing claw marks on her nape. She extends an arm to Lucia, palm up.

Theo disregards Lucia's attempt to separate them, lurches forward to grab Bree's wrist and shove it down. "Absolutely fucking not." he snarls, the flash of his first day spent at Lucia's place a sharp stab, ending with a thick belt between his teeth and battery acid replacing his blood, boiling his insides. "You don't know the consequences." he gives, when Bree tries to wring her arm away. "I do, first hand. You're not doing it again."

"No offense to be taken, however. If you truly are the real Brianna Feng, I'd rather not have your older brother as an arch nemesis."

Bree opens her mouth, expression defeated in a way, eyes desperately trying to negotiate with Lucia's once more iron face. Impulsive she may be, but she has a quick head on her shoulders, arranges the pieces Lucia gave her and accepts her answer with a quiet sigh. 

Theo quickly goes to explain what he saw, to disperse the thick air. "The necromancer brought her back by accident and Bree shifted, with no memories intact. It just… it all got entirely wiped. She remembered me by pure chance and even that wasn't a lot. Not enough to bring it all back."

"So how did she remember the rest?" it's Lydia who asks the question Theo had dreaded all along, voice carrying. The McCall pack are a few steps closer than their last position, having moved when Theo was reliving the foreign memories. "And how did she find you here?"

Bree has started accumulating a caged look, with their sudden proximity. Not to say they're standing close; it's still not the original distance that gave a sense of ease to her warring instincts to strike if approached.

She turns to Theo and Lucia. "A few days after the memory of you, I had this little fact floating about in my head," she speaks like it's hard for her to form the sentence, speech slow and choppy at random intervals. "That with werewolves, trauma sometimes manifests through prolonged shifted states. Have to say, when I'd spent five years as an animal it was hard to put a human face to myself."

"And if you stay shifted for too long, you lose the human side." Theo extends a leg, Bree doing the same, so that the soles of their shoes get into contact; the only bit of comfort he can give right now.

Surprise, surprise, it's Malia who enters the conversation. "That's nice and all, and I really hate admitting it, but he's right. Why didn't you go back to your family first?" as a person who has had a similar experience, sans the dying and resurrection part, it makes her the perfect candidate to put herself in Bree's shoes. 

Bree isn't offended by it, it's just forced her to acknowledge the question she's been pretending wasn't there, eyes on the ground with a frown pulling her brows closer. 

A few heart beats later,

"Those freak clowns took him again. Had to get him back." she tells them, in a sort of a trance-like state she shakes off in the literal sense of the word, first her head, then her shoulders and torso. By the hand she drags down her face, it wasn't something she'd wanted to share with anybody but Theo, and maybe Naya.

"They're dead." Liam declares, and a bolt of something passes between him and Bree, at the shared knowledge that the Doctors are no more. Liam seems to sense it too, eyes flaring in synchrony with hers, the interaction less than two seconds in total. 

Interesting.

Bree's mouth splits into a pointy grin, teeth human but the gesture is all canine, a bloodthirsty beast pleased. "Good." she gives back to Liam, and Theo doesn't miss the mildly appraising and interested look to Liam. 

Even more interesting.

Scott offers them to move this inside, where nosy neighbors can’t eavesdrop on them. Theo almost doesn’t agree, quite frankly afraid that if they step in a closed space he’ll get separated from her. The wolf and coyote are just as protective, but it’s never been what he throttles every time Liam is concerned. Bree is like a sister, and when he thinks on it, he’s a little glad the Doctors wiped any remnants of her or he would have spent years upon years finding more proof that Bree was just another version of Tara, a parallel, with him as the killer of both. 

He’s still looking for any wrongness, a glitch in her actions, speech, anything too fast or delayed, that would incriminate her as another being. The McCall pack take it all in and he should be more concerned with how open he is to them in his current state, sidelining from covering his signals and body language, an open book. The witch practically hides behind Bree’s wide shoulders, hunched, pulling her leather jacket tighter around herself. 

“Oh, you cold?” Bree takes Naya’s hand, purses her lips. “You’re freezing.” then she tips her nose in the air, scents it, seeks out Melissa when she puts her as one of the owners of the place. And blatantly chooses to address her rather than Scott, who she's already put as the alpha of the pack, in her usual antics to rile people up. “D’you have some tea by any chance? Anything with thyme or chamomile?” 

The pack dart incredulous looks amongst each other, Liam turning to catch Theo’s eye, brows raised. Theo shakes his head at him, huffs and goes over to the cupboard in the far left, slanting a glance Melissa’s way for permission to tug out the chamomile and honey tea out once he receives a baffled nod. While he prepares the tea, in the complete silence of the room, Bree tugs out the remainder of the chocolate bar from Naya’s jacket pocket, makes her eat a few more bites since her scent has once more taken on the sweetness of low blood sugar paired with stress. While doing so she also takes off her own jacket, drapes it over Naya's shoulders.

Huh. Overprotective and attentive streak. This is Bree though, once she perceives you as one of her own it’s game over, you’re under her wing unless you do something despicable enough to lose her trust. Which makes Theo cherish these moments, currently developing, because when she finds out what Theo became, what Theo is, she won't be so free to trust him anymore.

“I can call him for you. It’ll be a nice way for them to start the New Year. Well, not the Lunar New Year, but close enough.” Lucia takes her phone out, extends it to Bree. It’s another test, Theo realizes. “Or you can call him yourself.”

Bree doesn’t take the phone, to which Lucia smiles, wry, eyes narrowing. “Only if you help me start the conversation. I mean, somehow I doubt opening with sup, big bro, I kinda wasn’t dead, you’re still stuck with me is going to be a bright idea.”

Theo snorts, pouring the boiling water in the mug with the teabag and tea spoon. “Since when have you ever had any bright ideas, Brianna?”

Theo was also the one person she didn't get angry at when he used her full name, was allowed to use it the same way she was allowed to use his. Like hell he'll miss the opportunity.

Bree immediately plays along, "Well, Theodore, mighty words from your dumb ass and the ludicrous lunacies you call logic." she always loved to let out her more sophisticated side while they bickered, apparently something still in play.

Their gazes meet in a comic retell of their then default reaction to petty insults - a twin set of playfully squinted eyes and pursed lips, followed by a once over and a shake of their heads.

Alec chokes while Mason covers his mouth with his eyes wide, the rest in varying stages of disbelief. It’s so easy, slipping back into the banter of the good old days when Theo was more himself, before his eyes were turned golden, and when he’d sit with Bree on the hood of her car, the rusty thing she was determined on getting instead of whatever flashy shit Yao Feng wanted to get for her sixteenth birthday. She never really liked the money she came from, was aware of her privileges and strived to use them for the better cause than for her own benefit nine out of ten times.

Theo places the steaming mug of tea on the coconut-themed coaster on the kitchen table in front of Naya, now solemn. “They’re not saying it, but I will.” he holds Naya’s wide, amber eyes, observing as she stiffens. “Don’t try anything. And if you feel like something out of your control  is going to happen, just give a warning. We don’t want accidents.”

Bree glares at the top of the table, arms crossed, staying silent on the matter. It's two outsiders on another pack's territory, there's little wiggle room for negotiation with the delicate balance that's barely keeping itself from toppling over. Still, she stays upright to Naya’s left, mulish like a guard dog. Hell, for the past five years she probably was that. Fucking shit is it weird to think about it, the supernatural world is beyond disturbing at times. Yet Theo speculates it’s more than just the instinctual need to protect her savior.

“Lucia’s right.” Argent speaks from where he’s leaning on the wall that separates the living room from the kitchen. “He has to know.”

Theo points at Bree before she can bite out a retort. She’s long since noticed the tell-tale trace of metal and wolfsbane on the man, condemning him as a hunter. He snaps his fingers twice, when she refocuses on Argent again, to point at her a second time in a don’t you dare manner. Green on brown, followed by Bree going over Lucia and Scott, for their opinion on the fact that one of those sworn to kill their kind is butting in uninvited. 

“I’d rather know the name of the person who looks more the type that’ll shoot me in the gut first.”

“Fair enough.” Argent lets out a smile like Lucia’s, awry and angled, not friendly. “Chris Argent.”

Bree blinks, head going back with her brows flying to her hairline while she does a sequence of comic faces, making Theo release a sudden gust of air through his nose. 

“Argent? Like the—” she clenches her fist in front of her, lifting it to tap at her chin when she seeks Theo out. “I’m gonna say something offensive, I think.” Theo’s lips purse at her repertoire of clownism, to which Bree clicks her tongue. “A little help here, like damn, show some mercy. How should I know where the hunter clans stand when I’ve missed half a decade? All I know about him and his was that the Argents weren’t part of the nice lot back in my day.”

Theo hears Liam mutter back in my day? under his nose, like he’s unsure if he can laugh on it or not.

“He’s with us.” Scott supplies, having found an in on the talk, breathing life into the path of uncovering his boy-scout badges to her. “He’s not one of the bad guys.”

Stiles waves a hand in the air, scoffs. “I mean, he did try to kill you a few times, but that was years ago.” he coughs at the face Lydia pulls, mouth falling open while he takes a peek at the entire room of deadpan expressions. “I’ll just…” he mimes zipping his lips and throwing the key far away. 

If only, Theo muses to himself.

“Sure. Great. Reformed hunter then. Well, Alpha Amadio is gonna rip my head off faster than you can even take the gun out of the back of your pants, so.” 

Malia laughs, the loud ha of it resounding in the room. Derek covers his eyes, Corey doing a full-bodied wince next to him whilst hiding how he too was probably going to explode just like Malia did. Alec’s shoulders shake, chest convulsing with the need to keep in his own laugh, fingers scratching at his nape.

This time, Lucia’s smile isn’t the slightest bit an ill omen.

Somehow, the Feng pack—as well as the Amadio pack since Lucia wasn't keen on the idea of leaving them alone and because her pack refused to settle for celebrating the New Year without her—drag their asses to Beacon Hills, all of them jam packed in the Preserve. The chill to the air isn’t only due to the temperatures having dropped. The Feng pack were the last to arrive, having taken a trip in a fucking private plane after Theo dropped the bomb on him, with Bree hyperventilating next to him so bad that she couldn’t tell her brother nothing but a choked out can you please just get here, dammit, along with more detailed cursing in Mandarin, and Yao Feng had hung up. Theo had received a text message stating they’d be in Beacon Hills by sun fall.

In present time everybody is trying to not watch the reuniting scene, first tense with the formation of the astounding presence of the Feng pack creating a protective half-circle behind their alpha who stares at his little sister in broken awe. Yao Feng takes a step forward and lifts a hand, palm facing Bree, and each person present holds their breath as she erases the distance between them, adopting the same stance. Theo has never seen the man close to a breakdown or showing any other emotion but anger, disdain or precisely the amount of 0.01 percent amusement.

As eye roll worthy as it sounds, it truly is something like out of a high-end fantasy movie. Their palms shake before they make contact, fingers clasping together, a pale blue glow emanating from the point of unity as their eyes shift in their respective shades of red and gold—a family with lineage of traditions Theo has always been curious about, they might be the most interesting pack he's ever come across, what with the amount of magic interwoven and passed down generations, along with the lycanthropy.

A moment passes, and with a shuddery gasp Yao Feng pulls her tight to him, having confirmed it for real. No creature can imitate family blood, particularly the Feng clan's. He's wrapped her in his arms like one would a child, cradling. Loving. Bree’s arms slide under his, to dig into his shoulders through the expensive suit, eyes having long welled up and spilled over with bout after bout of tears, both of them murmuring in low Mandarin and the phrases must be nothing near light in meaning if the rest of their pack's glassy eyes are anything to go by. Theo’s skin erupts into goosebumps, the rest of the Feng pack completing the circle around them, patting gentle hands, running careful fingers over Bree's head and shoulders and arms to call her every synonym connected to kid or kiddo.

Brother and sister, the last of their clan, surrounded by their pack and now finally a full family again. 

"Raji," one of the women elbows a fellow pack-mate, spitting the hair that's swishing in the picking wind out of her mouth and batting it away. "Give them some space, you menace." there's a Slavic undertone in her intonation.

"Fuck off, Tiana." Raji retorts with no bite, offers a fist so they can knock knuckles—gets a rumbled, if fond suka in return—and he presses his shoulder into that of the tall man with long hair to his left while Tiana leans her forearm onto the shoulder of another woman.

Bree cackles, pulls Raji and Tiana by the wrists to wrap her arms around their necks. "I'm so happy none of you guys changed." she whispers, shifts her head to look at the rest of her pack one by one, finally settling back on her brother who can't seem to keep the carefree grin off his face.

Theo can't look anymore.

The only thing that matters is this: Bree is back where she's always belonged.

It tugs, exposes that gaping crater in him that gets inflamed and bleeds a lake each and every time he witnesses touching events that he’s never had for himself. It’s the selfish child, crying and bawling its eyes out at the burned bridges it brought the freshly lit matches to, after it watched as they caught flame, regretting it only after all that was left of them was gapes upon gapes, in charred remains. All ash, reduced to nothing. All gone.

Theo backs away, while the rest are in tune with the unfolding events and won’t notice him slithering out of the clearing. Except for Liam who trails after him, silently waiting for Theo to pick a place to recuperate. He’d like to say it’s only been the last twenty-four hours that weigh on him. In retrospect, it’s been the past two months. He still feels like today has been a fever dream, with the myriad of events unfolding rapidly, ensuring he can’t catch his breath before the next unexpected development. 

“So it really is her.” Liam starts, once they’ve been still for a full minute, far way from the others that any words passed between the two of them won't be heard. “The, uh, the Brenna you knew?” he sucks his lips inwards, careful of the way he structures the sentences, aware that they still might not land as expected.

Theo has sat down, back propped against a tree trunk, knees up to the point where he can lean his forearms on them. “Yeah.”, he confesses.

“Okay.” Liam digs the toe of his sneaker into a protruding root. “And… how’re you holdin’ up?” he swallows, the fidgeting amping with his nervous energy, expecting a fight for his concern.

Theo brings his hands up to his face. “Not now. Just—just not right now. I don’t want a fight and I don’t want to talk about it either.”

“You know, just yesterday we all thought you’d never recover. Or not fully. And today we found out your, um. That Brenna is still alive after—”

Theo’s fangs pop out, piercing the insides of his mouth. “Get to the fucking point or leave, Liam.” he can’t have this conversation in the headspace he’s in, would opt, preferably, to never have it.

Liam inhales sharply, fingers clenching into fists at his thighs.

“Stop and feel, okay? Just, for once, stop and feel, before the mountain of all that shit you buried manages to bury you along with it.” Liam hisses before he throws himself down next to him, but respects his personal space and doesn’t try to touch him. The animals lament the unneeded, in their opinion, consideration; Theo mentally thanks it. “I know it sounds deranged coming from me, but when was the last instance you actually processed something that hurt you? Every time, you build that wall right back up, detach yourself from anything and anybody and fight tooth and nail to not feel a thing. You’re not a robot, no matter how much you try to sell that to us. And with the amount of psychology knowledge you have, don’t you think you should start applying some of that crap on yourself?”

Liam isn’t even looking at him, having copied Theo’s sitting position, although a more animated version of it with his hands flying about whilst his word-spewing ensues. 

“We read the files, what they did to you. I know you’re pissed about it, I’d be too in your place, if somebody invaded my personal space that way. And I am sorry about that, we should never have—” he brings the knuckles of his thumb to his mouth, bites at it with his eyes screwed shut, a pulse of hot anger stemming from him, one he swallows down to continue in a murmur, “It was like a natural disaster, going over it. When you think it couldn’t get worse, it got worse.”

Boo-hoo, some vivisections and a little torture that ultimately made him stronger and nearly an identical level as a werewolf strength-wise, as well as honed his skills and durability to the point where few can match.

And, to be quite honest, he's not even that angry they read the files. It's an eye for an eye in his equation. He took so much from them that, in a way, they do have the right to look. Because what if it was hoarding of plans, crannies and nooks overlooked, but with the potential to be too lethal to disregard. He understands it. The justified mistrust.

No, he's getting more worked over how involved Liam is with this.

The part of Theo, the survivalist who doubts everything, trusts nothing and detests having a weakness exposed, would have been his candidate to take care of the job and push Liam away. He’s not worthy of the amount of compassion Liam extends his way, which is typically the last drop; when he tries to bribe Theo into believing that the blood on his hands, under his fingernails and cuticles, is just food coloring and that he’s just another victim. 

“At this point, I’m not even sure you can process the trauma as trauma because it’s been your life for more than half of your existence.”

It's Liam laying down all his cards on the table, talking without a filter. Still doesn't make Theo less enraged.

“People have different ways of dealing.”  

“But you don’t deal with it, that’s my point!” Liam bellows, head jerking his way, Theo making the fatal mistake of meeting his flared eyes. ”You stare at it, lock it up in a chamber and revisit it when you’re feeling especially masochistic that day, or as a way to convince yourself of a reality only you see! That's not dealing.”

“Okay. And? What else have you got for me, Jean Piaget? Lay it on me.” Theo’s hostility shows in his scent and face, giving Liam what he wants, what they all generally want from him: a reaction. “C’mon, don’t be shy, give me the full psychoanalysis. You got any suggestions for integration methods? Cognitive-behavioral therapy, right? Or positive thinking. Writing a list with things I’m grateful for every morning? More exercise and talking about my feelings like it’s gonna scrub off the blood from the fucked up shit I’ve done with these?” Theo expands his fingers to bring attention to his hands, can feel the mirage of the sticky, coagulated and crusty coat on his skin.

Liam’s first reaction is to bare his teeth and snarl, his second to flinch and his third to drop the shift, to glance at Theo's hands with the something Theo has, to this day, been unable to decipher. He keeps staring and staring and staring at Theo, until Theo’s wrath is swept away by the wind like sand. 

After an eternity, Liam eventually finds the words he’s been meticulously assembling. "You think you don't deserve to be helped. You're afraid that anything good never really lasts. And you're afraid that it'll be a trick, if you do take the offered hand."

A bitterness attaches itself to Liam's scent, before he shakes his head with a harsh scoff and looks away. He folds for now, knows Theo can't be reasoned with about this. He'll figure out another way to broach the subject.

They get back a little while after that, silent and with numerous glances stolen in-between. Bree zeroes in on him in the matter of ten seconds, eyes stopping on Liam next to him, then drifting back to Theo. She lifts her chin up, to ask you okay?,  to which Theo nods. She doesn't buy it. 

His legs feel like lead. He wants to go to her. Why isn't he? A long dead friend, dare he say the best friend he's ever made in his miserable life turning out to be well and alive. Is it the fear of her finding out about his wrongdoings all these years? Possibly. He doesn't want to get comfortable, because if he does it might just break him when she leaves.

You're afraid that anything good never really lasts. And you're afraid that it'll be a trick, if you do take the offered hand.

That might just have been spot on.

Theo does a quick scan, surprised that the three packs are making an effort to socialize rather than keeping to their own, albeit the Feng pack being a tad bit more reserved about it. He bets Scott made the first step. 

A guy who Theo surmises might be Yao Feng's emissary, a pretty guy who surely must have been pulled out of a modelling agency or whatever, is in deep conversation with Deaton. It seems to be quite the peculiar topic. Deaton is entirely immersed, unusually expressive when most, if not all the times Theo has been in his presence, he's held onto his lax and collected ways.  

"Uh…" he refocuses on Liam at the eloquence. He's met with dubiously raised brows, not far from judging. "Aren't you and—" he glances to Bree and back. "Like, you know."

The idiot has taken Theo's interest in the Feng emissary as interest and wrongfully gotten to one of the dumbest conclusions he could have concerning him and Bree.

Theo snorts, pointedly eyes Naya stood close to Bree, with Bree's jacket still atop her shoulders and with the Feng pack having immediately taken her on as a temporarily adopted stray. Bree turns to her, pearly grin wide and bursting, to get her attention and point at her brother.

"Can you believe he was all for skinny jeans back in the day? Let me tell you—"

Yao Feng blanches, sighs, but it's fond. "Brenna."

She waves a hand at him, cackling. "He used to be the biggest peacock you can imagine. Still is, by the looks of it, but it was way worse back then."

"Brenna." he ruffles her long hair, gets his fingers tangled in it and succeeds in stopping the progress of the story when she yowls and slaps at his forearm.

Naya only has eyes for Bree, her scent warm and happy, because Bree is warm and happy. And the other point proves it self in the form of Yao Feng and his emissary seeking each other out, sharing a brief and barely noticeable smile before they get back to their respective conversations.

Theo looks back at Liam. "Aren't we, like, you know?" he imitates him, and Liam shoves him away lightly with a frown that holds no irritation, mouth pulled into a juvenile grin, eyes crinkling along with the motion. 

"Point." he takes a breath, does the nervous tick where he glances at the ground with his upper teeth digging into his lower lip, eyes turning back to Theo's shortly after. Just as he's about to speak, Theo hears Yao Feng say his name. 

"You couldn't have done it in a less stressful way?" Bree complains, does a what can you do shrug for Theo when their gazes meet. 

Liam trails him when Theo heads their way, now even closer than before, an obvious ball of electricity. Scott has taken notice of this, as well as the majority the McCall pack. Lucia's lack of reaction calms him into letting whatever this is run its course, not without him listening in of course, just in case.

Yao Feng extends his arm to Theo, like one would for a handshake. The difference is that when Theo, in a belated manner due to his confusion, raises his own arm to return the gesture, it's two palms instead of one that take a hold of his hand. They squeeze, hard, and for the first time since they've met it's not a cold look aimed down at him, meant to make him feel insignificant and a lowlife. It's brimming with gratitude.

"Thank you." he breathes out, grip growing stronger to the point of bruising, before he lets go and continues in a muted, hushed voice to give as much privacy as possible. "If you hadn't howled that night, Naya wouldn't have felt it, wouldn't have inspected. You rattled a large chunk of her crystal collection just by the energy you produced with your grief." Theo feels his face crack with unconcealed astonishment. He can't have been that strong as a chimera. Did he have more abilities back then? That question stops him from reacting at the explicit depiction of his emotional state at the time.

Yao Feng partially turns his head, to beckon Bree closer. He flashes the shift of his eyes, Theo responding to the ruby with gold, Liam next to him doing the same by instinct, Bree as well. But her mouth makes a speechless O, shock and disbelief, with an angry sheen rapidly forming over the gold that confuses Liam. Theo and Bree maintain the shift as she inches closer, brings her index finger to trace just under his left eye. 

Yeah, last time she'd seen them they were the original color the Doctors gave him. Akin to that fucking enchanted piece of tumbled jadeite mineral. Arsenic green.

She takes a shuddering inhale, a single furious tear sliding down her cheek before she rubs it away immediately. The Doctors are dead. What's done is done and there's no undoing it.

Yao Feng clarifies why he'd showed her this with, "That's why you felt something was off." he's brought a gentle hand to the middle of her back, shifting his body so that he's facing her more, to comfort her.

"What? Why?" Liam is stuck in his state of perplexity, staring between the three of them.

Of all the ways to phrase it, Bree explains it as: “His eyes weren’t that color before."

*

They all welcome the New Year together, watching the sky for the fireworks with the supernaturals covering their ears to their best abilities. 

Theo kind of hates it. He wants to go to sleep, head pounding with the amount of shit that piled up today. Whatever stability he had after he woke up is long gone now, slipped through his fingers. Liam's parents showed up before the fireworks, meaning that at least he can think without the little shit breathing in his neck. 

He pulls Bree to the side, his smile strained. She'll go back to her family in New York, it's where she belongs. She also has to get on top of her education, work on not acting out on her instincts as much as she does, how to be mostly human again. What he isn't ready for is when she asks him to come with them, or at least stay a little while as a guest, telling him that her brother has given a green light should he choose to. 

"And after we've caught that megalomaniac you can stay with us, if you want."

He can say yes, fabricate a lie by omission for the McCall pack, let time deal with the rest. This would be the perfect moment for somebody to have listened in, interrupt and say no way, not happening. Scott's pack is cheerfully conversing with either the Amadio and the Feng pack or among themselves, surrounded by family. They're not paying attention to Theo. 

Or so he thinks. 

He can find Liam by scent in spite of the current chaos of the Preserve, has his senses automatically keeping an eye on him always. Liam's heart skipping a beat can't be a coincidence, yet he's still talking with Jenna and one of Lucia's younger betas. 

"Although…" Bree doesn't look at Liam, just tilts her head in his direction. "Something tells me you won't."

"Dunno about that."

Another skip. 

Bree knocks her knee into the side of his. "Still wish you'd swing by. It'd be nice."

And another, along with the elevation to Liam’s pulse.

"If you keep tempting me I might just accept."

Higher and higher, speed picking up, and Liam's easy expression starts falling. His head tries to turn Theo's way, stops, faces his mother. His exhale is shaky and his smile brittle, even if aimed at Jenna.

"Why not? The hunter can't say shit in front of big bro. What's he gonna do? T-pose for dominance so that they can keep you on their admittedly long leash? Puh-lease. I know you. The moment this pile of shit with the Monroe psycho is dealt with you're gonna pull a Houdini and hightail out of this place." she's scanning all the different pack members and Naya in her usual display of vigilance, the one he'd witnessed firsthand when they first met.

Theo, having followed her lead in the little observation exercise, only just notices Liam's burning eyes on him. Jenna and Lucia's beta are too deep in a conversation to take in his tense body language or the intense emotion bleeding onto his betrayed expression. The distance between them isn't that little; it doesn't mollify the force of the look, the anxiety behind it. And Theo can't say he's overjoyed by the accusing glance Liam sends Bree's way, the clenched muscles of his jaw and cheek bulging. 

"Well. Your big bro will let you in on what's happened the past few years. If you still think you can stomach being in my presence after that, I'll think about it."

"I'm guessing that whatever happened was with them." them being Scott and the rest. She's always been too perceptive, quick to catch details others may miss. "Were you still with the horror clowns at the time?"

Not this again.

"And there you have it."

"Trust me, you won't be making excuses for me when you find out."

Bree sighs, long and loud, exasperated. She doesn't want to cause a scene, but he's still not off the hook. Their weird gravitation, one that's always made them come in close proximity in the end, has them stand pressed together from shoulder to shoulder. Even their posture is nearly identical - leaning on the thick trunk of an old tree, arms crossed with one ankle over the other, attentive of the scene from a bit of a distance to take in all the details. More than once, during their conversation that changes topic every few minutes—like they're trying to cram in everything they've missed, compensate for the time they'll never get back—Theo notices eyes on them, from the McCall pack. Bewildered, curious, unbelieving that a creature like himself is capable of such a deep and ostensibly  mutual friendship. 

"You know, I might just be speculating here, but. I think there's a way to bring them back." Bree mutters, turning to look at him and gauge his reaction, resting her index finger under the thin skin of her own eye.

Ah, so them signifies his original eyes.

Theo's pulse stutters, breath catching, which makes Liam lose his shitty pretense that he's most definitely not been listening in since the beginning for a second time in a row. 

At last, Theo exhales in something close to a pitiful laugh. "I don't think that's possible, Bree."

And he wasn't overly fond of them to begin with, after some memories of those years surfaced through. The sole thing he does like about them is the time period they signified and what he had back then, concerning friendship and mentality.

"Yeah and a few hours ago you didn't think it possible that I'm not a goner. Yet here we are, bitch. I'm alive and kicking." she uses force when she playfully shoulders him, causing him to forcibly take a few steps to the left in order to not fall. 

Once he's regained his balance Theo narrows his eyes, lips pulling into a mirror of her playful smile and goes to shoulder her back. She sidesteps to avoid him, and so their little game of tag begins. The rest of the three packs halt, sharing even further bewildered glances as they watch the display. 

"Ha!" Theo snickers when Bree tries to swipe her claws at his abdomen and misses by a long shot. A few moments later he has his own claws positioned in way he usually has them to rip a throat out. "Too slow." 

Before this can escalate he retreats a step back, clawed hands at his sides, legs braced with his core clenched tight and back a little hunched to better hold himself upright in case she decides to lunge at him. He raises his arms enough to make her see the come on gesture of his fingers. They haven't done this in over five years. He gives an astounding amount of zero fucks that they have witnesses from three different packs, one being Bree's own. If Yao Feng hasn't reacted yet, albeit being on edge before Theo called an end to their first round, then he understands this as child play, not an attack. 

When Lucia starts spewing commentary—on their forms, execution of movements and such—others join in, both from her pack and from the Feng pack. Yao Feng himself has one shoulder to a tree, hands in his pockets and his usually chilling eyes now fond, his emissary less than a foot away. They're having a back and forth, but Theo can't quite catch the words over the cacophony. 

At one point, when they're finally in the zone, they predict each other's attacks too accurately, can't land blows and they keep laughing every time the other does a par to a fatal blow. This time it's Bree who chokes on her own laugh, puts up a hand.

"Time out, wait, I'm gonna choke—" she wheezes out, bracing one hand on her knee. Multiple others cackle along. Just as she's gotten a hold of herself their eyes meet. A few moments of silence and Theo's shoulders shake, he turns his head away to face the forest and cover the lower half of his face.

"You look like you're gonna start swinging at me with a cane." the words are muffled from his hand and barely discernible with how hard he's fighting to not combust.

Another eye to eye moment and they half land on the ground, with one knee on the frozen soil. Theo doesn't have it in him to care. So what if he's out of character? So what if it's all bare for them to see? Fuck it, he has his best friend back.

Fuck it all to high heaven.

*

It's the goodbye that splinters something in him. It was inevitable, an event he was well aware of. It still hurts. The only good part was that Yao Feng and his emissary stayed until the very end and opted to go home in Naya's car. Bree pulled him a new one when her brother suggested that somebody else picks it up and deliver it back to Naya's doorstep, for the audacity and the inability to take in regard the fact that maybe it's something important to her, for fuck's sake, learn how to read the room and that was that. Something tells him she just wants to spend more time with Naya, prolong their goodbye the same way Theo prolonged his.

Theo drove them to the car itself, just so they wouldn't have to trek the forest again and because he wanted to postpone the known sequence of events, if by a few minutes. 

"You'll see her again." is what Yao Feng tells him, and he means it. Any hostility from him and his has vanished into thin air, a feat Theo is still getting used to, but not in the slightest bit opposed to. 

"Of course he will. I bribed him to come over to our side once the war is over with." here Theo can't even resist it when she offers the back of her clenched hand for a first bump, taps her knuckles with his, followed by a high-five.

Yao Feng had just shifted to get in the backseat of Naya's car, turns around on the heels of his overly expensive shoes. "Is that pack of yours going to even let you?"

Theo blinks, brows climbing up his forehead. "I'm not a part of the McCall pack." he drags out every word, to accentuate the meaning. "I'm just the necessary evil."

The emissary—Declan, Theo recently found out his name is—slants a pointed glance at Yao Feng, in an similar way to told you so, but with the sense that they've delved into a whole other topic Theo isn't privy to. They have some nonverbal conversation, after which Yao Feng taps his fingers on the metal of the door in contemplation. 

Then, burgundy on green. He says nothing and Bree, even after having spent years in her animal form, has retained enough human cues to not interrupt. Theo feels left out of the loop, similarly to when Lucia does something along the same lines or offers a genuine invitation to her home. 

"Well, if that's how you feel."

If that's how he—the fuck?

Yao Feng grins, a shocking event in itself, aims the sentence at Bree whilst still holding Theo's eye. "If it's all clear with them and Lucia doesn't snatch him first, he’s welcome." 

There's a small bout of bickering and off they go, to the other side of the continent. At least Bree promises to text him the moment she has a phone again, and to help with the battle tactics as soon as she's up to date with the whole disaster.

Five minutes after they've departed Theo is left standing in the middle of the deserted road, pushing the playback button on the last scene. Not even Yao Feng's cryptic words. Just how it feels like he lost a sister again. Don't get him wrong, Bree isn't a replacement. He'll never forget Tara and it was never with that intention. Sometimes, though, the small details like the age gap of two years, which is identical to his with Tara, the fact that Tara and Bree's birthdays are a day apart and how they're some of the few people to ever bring out Theo out of Theo—the kid, the small fragment that stays barricaded in a cave layered with cement, scarcely let out to see daylight—well, it hurts.

It aches. And in some way it's a punishment, maybe. Not like he doesn't deserve it.

*

Theo makes a small lap in his wolf form, to cool off and step back on his feet. The processing is easier like this, not as a harsh reality slap. Liam is the only one in the apartment when he comes back. Derek's loft is empty. Knowing him, Liam probably bribed Scott to arrange this and give him privacy to verbally castrate Theo for all the shit before New Year. Theo debates how to claw the metal door open, since his clothes are still in the truck and he only got inside the building itself because of a bout of luck and some couple identifying him as "Alec's dog"—Alec had to explain the strange sightings of a big canine climbing up the straits to his apartment, apparently freaked out and served that lie as an excuse—after cooing at how smart he is for knowing to keep the leather strip holding the keys in between his teeth to alert his owner.

Liam yanks the door open, lurches a step back like he's witnessing his first murder scene and looks like he's a breath away from having a panic attack. Theo headbutts his shin, huffs to signal he wants to get in and switch skins. He manages to sneak in through the small gap Liam left, ignoring how his side scrapes against the metal frame, and runs up the last flight of stairs standing between him and his own space. 

Liam is somber and quiet, withdrawn even. Never a good omen.

When he's put on a fresh set of clothes and is once more on the ground floor, Theo raises his arms, lets them fall back against his thighs. "Well? Lay it on me."

Liam is unnaturally still on the couch, one leg drawn up to his chest with an arm wrapped around it, sitting with his side to the back of the couch. The blue of his eyes is the color of a swimming pool at dusk, a bright, yet simultaneously deep shade that makes you sink, makes you feel like you'll drown if you stare too much. 

"What do I have to do in order to convince you to let somebody else take care of the rest?" the words are dull, dead serious and a little haunted. Liam's expressions doesn't change.

A fight, the last thing he needed. Because this topic always ends in a fight. The stupid fucking theaters.

A strange idea forms in his head, that maybe Liam bribed Scott to not start this conversation himself, to let Liam do all the talking. Because Scott won't permit another repeater of this and he might even plead it with Argent, but his approach won't be as direct as Liam's. 

Theo shakes his head, doesn't let his vocal strings work. He expected Liam to explode and charge at him with a string of carefully aimed words, scenarios he's already gone through alone, anything to tip the favor in hands really. But no, he just gets this pained and lost look, pulse jumping.

"Why?" he demands.

Theo silently begs him to not pull the gun he himself would in this situation. Everybody from Scott's pack, along with Lucia, knew he omitted telling Bree of his physical and mental state before she materialized out of thin air into his life again, never led her to believe anything was remotely off or not how it should be. For whatever reason, they didn't allude to it once. At least not by words. Not like he was in their vicinity for a long time while she was here to begin with. 

"What would B—"

Theo is whip quick to interject, startles Liam with his quiet, but saturated with too many emotions tone. "You do not get to bring her into this." 

A beat, two, Liam stunned to silence with the unexpected strike.

"You don't get to fucking use her against me. Do you understand? Ever. A single one of you does it, I'm outta here."

It's not even a threat or a bargaining chip to manipulate—and to be quite fucking honest, he's not sure he will actually leave if push comes to shove, had he meant it as such. Bree is a wound as deep as Tara. Two sisters, one related by blood, the other choosing to place him under her wing no matter what her actual family warned her against, and he lost both. He got back only one, can repay only one for getting killed because of him, for her effort of taking him in. This type of wound is a crater as insatiable as a black hole. They can dig at whatever else they want, can utilize any other means necessary, but he's sure as fuck not letting anybody near this particular spot.

Liam physically recoils back, mouth parting upon the realization of the magnitude of his fuck up. He's posed ready to spring up and pull Theo further away from the door, but doesn't.

"I'm sorry, I didn't—" Liam's lips clench together to keep the words in, in order to not escalate the situation. He looks away, eyes jumping from object to object, with his body hunched in, regret and distress and guilt pouring out of him.

Theo exhales quietly and sits on the couch, facing away from him with his back to the cushion. He's too weak to even be properly pissed for an extended period of time when it comes to Liam. 

"I know none of you get it, but this is as close to redemption as I can get." he starts, drags a hand over his eyes, down to his stubble. "All the shit I've done and helped them with, all the people that died because I tipped the odds in the Doctors' favor - this is the only way I can feel like I can—like—"

He brings both hands to cover his face, the back of his head hitting the couch as he takes a slow breath, holds it and exhales just as slowly. 

"And the timeline of the war, the time catching up on us, I can't do it quickly and efficiently when there's somebody else to witness it. But we need speed. Or we're dead."

He's never been one unable to articulate himself. This is as foreign as being the good guy is. Ha, as much as he can be a good guy.

"You stopped breathing." 

All thought processes short-circuit. For a tiny bout consisting of a mere three seconds, his mind just stops.

Theo drops his hands to his lap, turns his head to Liam in confusion. There's still panic in the deep blues, only now it's accompanied by the same haunted look from before. 

"Three times. Once in front of Alec."

"And the other two?" Theo asks and he knows.

He knows.

The crushed smile Liam gives him and the subsequent flare of his eyes, there and gone in a split second, confirm it. 

“From what Alec told us, you were clinically dead for probably three minutes. He woke up because of it, managed to bring you back with good ‘ol chest compressions and called me because I was the closest. Scott was with me. And thank fuck for it, I've no idea what would have happened if he wasn’t there.”

Liam stares at his own fiddling hands, twisting and twining his fingers to contain his anxiety. His legs give these jerky movements, a testament to him relieving the scene anew. 

“The second time, you were having a nightmare so bad that your heart stopped. At first I didn’t know what was going on. You kept swinging from deep sleep to a comatose state that it didn't register, until—” Liam shakes his head, hair flopping over his eyes. “You got back on your own, at least, by the time it took me to get up the stairs.” a pause, green on blue, dread piling in Theo’s stomach like lead. “The third was the worst. You woke up from a nightmare again, but you were still in it. You kept clutching at your chest, until you slammed your fist in it and your heart stopped again.”

Was that even possible? He gets why he inflicted harm onto himself, it was a tactic he figured out early on. Punching out the breath he can’t get out of his lungs snaps him out of the night terrors, but it only works when he’s at least partially aware he’s in it because it's a delicate balance of time between the punch and the heart's rhythm. He must have fucked up and ended up causing commotio cordis instead.

“The first few seconds were the worst. I kept on thinking you’ll spring back into action any time now. Any time. But…” Liam’s scent dips, complexion paling to an alarming degree, eyes wide. “I can’t even remember how I did it, like my brain wiped it clean. When you woke up from it you couldn’t take in a single breath again. Then you shifted.”

Theo remembers this one. Liam holding his hand to his chest, urging him to copy the measured inhales and exhales to no avail, the wolf shoving him off the scene in a blink of an eye. No wonder he shifted. His body and subconsciousness had known it was the fastest way to heal any damage from however long the lack of brain function lasted for.

“And—” Liam is looking at him, but is unseeing, brows pulled tight together, worried, reliving the scene in his own head. His speech keeps getting choppier and choppier, too fast as he instinctively brings his curled leg closer to his chest. ”You—you weren’t supposed to shift. It kept stalling the progress every time you did it and Amadio told us to make sure you don’t do it again in case you got stuck in it and couldn't revert back, but I couldn’t stop you and—”

“Liam.” Theo lays a hand onto Liam’s raised knee, startles him out of the memory. Had he known it's this bad and that it holds such an impact, he would have never asked.

Wolf and coyote whine as one, and Theo obliges. He hesitantly reaches out with his arms, one to drag Liam's left leg up onto the couch as well, the other to guide his head until his forehead rests on both of his raised knees. Just as he'd predicted, Liam traps Theo's hand on his nape, keeping it hostage under his. He also curls his free arm around one leg to dig his fingers into Theo's shirt, to keep him from pulling away. 

Theo's grip on Liam's nape increases, thumb tapping gently over the side of his neck, the sole finger free from Liam's guard hand atop his. 

"That's why you freaked out when you saw my wolf form just now?"

Liam nods, shivers. “Thought you were gone again.”

"With people who can shift, the easiest way to reverse damage is to maintain a form that doesn't produce the same amount of overly complex thought process as a human's. 'Till it's safe to ping back online." he shares the bland information softly, hoping that Liam can see the logic through Theo’s lens and understand, maybe even take comfort in the acquired knowledge. 

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Theo swallows, stills his hand in order to not let himself slip and start cradling his fingers through the short strands on the back of Liam's head. 

Liam seems to comprehend that the lack of answer is still an answer, if tactfully void of more weapons Liam can use against him. "It's not fair." he hisses against his knees, his grip on Theo's hostage hand now close to bruising with how tight he's holding it. 

They spend the next hour like this. Theo pulling every ace up his sleeve to reason with a hard-set Liam who resolutely refuses to accept any excuse that's liable for a carte blanche slip. Theo bargains, Liam disassembles the verbal package in the making. Theo fights to make him see reason, Liam retaliates to convince him of how fucked up this entire exchange is because normal people don't negotiate in order to make others permit them ruin their own body and mind, Theo, fucking Christ and, well. They get nowhere. The sole development is the steady increase of proximity. 

At some point Derek comes back to his apartment, in tow with Malia, Peter and Scott. Liam's grip on him further strengthens, like he's afraid they'll barge in and pull them apart. Theo isn't even sure if they've also figured out this mess of emotions and feelings surrounding them, whether they appreciate Theo's lack of action on them. Because come the fuck on, they're not blind. Theo might prefer adopting the ostrich method with his head in the ground when it comes to the thing between the two of them, but sadly he's aware enough to know how their behavior looks from a third point of view. 

"Liam."

"Not fucking happening." the answer is muffled, carried between their bodies with how their limbs are almost intertwined and how the top of Liam's head has stayed pressed to Theo's jaw for over half an hour now. 

"Is he negotiating with him for permission?" he hears Peter say from a few floors up, the amusement apparent on him. "Fat chance of convincing him." Malia hums in agreement just as Scott and Derek sigh. 

Liam must not hear them, though, because he doesn't react and continues to hog Theo's personal space. Hell, he bunches in closer, the tip of his nose making contact with Theo's throat, breathes in deep and long to hold the breath and exhales it just as slowly, causing a shiver to trail over Theo's skin. 

"Not happening." Liam repeats in a whisper, ankles clasping together behind Theo's back. He'd lost the fetal position a while back and now they're in a similar situation to the bathtub disaster, the only difference being that Liam hasn't gone full octopus mode yet.

"I haven't even said anything."

"Every time you make a pause this long you try to pull something out of your ass as an excuse. I'm saving you the effort."

Theo pinches his side, a mistake. Liam lurches forward with a high sound, pinches him back. "How benevolent of you." Theo says it to ignore just how close they are, with Theo's chin on top of Liam's head. 

He should be stressed Liam isn't giving any ground, is in contra with every word Theo delivers. Instead, it's a peaceful feeling settling into his blood and bone marrow. The animals are quiet in his head, a rare and startling occurrence of them curled up together with no blood spilled. It's the Liam effect - his proximity gives Theo a sense of safety so strong that even the phantoms can't enter the premises of this sacred little circle they've formed. 

*

And Theo, he’s weak. He folds.

*

The first trip they make it’s with Scott, Malia, Derek and Liam. Theo ropes Derek into this shitshow because he’s the one other individual who holds some similar world views, enough lines in juxtaposition that if push comes to shove Theo knows he can rely on him to diffuse the situation. Or to nudge Scott in the right direction, which will also force Malia and Liam to behave. Somewhat, at least.

And you know what? He should have known what this band of merry derangement will make.

It’s a disaster. A fucking disaster from start to finish. Scott puts his foot down when it comes to extensive drives with little to no rest, makes them sleep at least seven hours a night and since there’s no need for precaution when Theo isn’t alone, he can't even utilize Argent’s modus operandi in his gain. It’s so bad that Liam acquires a guilty mug that persists throughout the night, he doesn’t even pester Theo to hold meaningless conversations. Not that he has the opportunity. Theo exiles him to Scott and Malia’s room to have a video conference with Lucia and waste an hour texting with Bree who finally got a phone.

The rest of time he bombards Argent’s phone to bitch about the slow progress and how he shouldn’t have let this happen in the first fucking place. If he’s gonna suffer for this shit, then so will Argent. The man isn’t faring better, sometimes forgets of the arrangement and shoots Theo a text in the form of a lone question mark, prompting Theo to send a clown emoji at him. The opportunities for subtle patronizing are probably the only highlight and the one delight Theo has.

The remainder of the time he’s detached, working himself into a forcibly calm state he maintains by juggling multiple psychology hacks to keep the monsters at bay. They divide the deactivation into three zones and Theo isn’t allowed to work alone, like he’s some kiddie that needs constant care and attention in case he flips his lid. In the end, he’s forced to dissociate, triggering it by himself. He seldom speaks while they’re down there, in the cold underground with the preserved tools and hazardous liquids. 

It’s stupid how it feels like they’re stepping into his territory, invading his personal space. He opts to have Derek as a nanny, confirms it’s the right choice when he’s not stopped from collecting his files, nor when he crouches down with the fragile papers, hands shaking as he makes to open the yellowing folder. 

He's barely a paragraph of medical terms in when dirty sneakers enter his field of vision. Grubby hands try and snatch the files and he growls, the burr stemming from deep within his chest.

"Theo." Liam starts in an admonishing tone, this close to swerving into pissed-off lane. "Gimme."

"Fuck off."

Derek lets out a sharp breath, having also come to the conclusion that a fight is going to ensure and stall them even further. 

"You pigheaded—"

Theo cuts him off, flashes his eyes up at him. "Maybe I wanna know what body I'm actually living in." there's too much venom piled up in the sentence, the culmination of his current situation not far from being caged. 

Scott calls Liam away, comes closer to physically tug him away when Liam stays rooted to his spot. 

His blue eyes are helpless.

"Amadio said one page per day." Malia says from somewhere far away. Theo's perception is starting to dwindle, which may not be visible on the outside. "And that was a stretch." she adds, for what reason Theo can't tell. 

What, she thinks it'll discourage him? He can deal with Lucia later, is immune to her anger and disappointment. To anybody's really, even Liam's. Fine, Liam has more power over him than any of them, he'll admit it. Not right now. He'd readied himself for this precise moment, to pull the lever and sever the emotional from the logical, to trigger his brain into remembering details critical to his existence. 

Liam is him and his. Theo is his own. They're not pack. He's an outsider. Basic math right there.

Where the thought of it would usually hack a laceration between his ribs, now it's a fine distinction aiding his decision making. They know too much already; he's allowed to keep some semblance of privacy. The heart isn't his, but the body is. And he has a right to know what's been done to it. Will the knowledge help him? Probably not. Will it mollify his paranoid and rattling subconsciousness and apply a temporary balm of calm that only full awareness can? Yes. And to him that outweighs the risk. He wants to reclaim every part of himself that he can, that includes the damaged ones.

Pros and cons has been his entire life. He's not stopping now. 

"Scott, you can't just let him!" Liam hisses when they're behind a half full tank filled with something disgusting and partially see-through. 

Scott doesn't make a peep. He's just as thick-headed as Liam, sees and identifies with his reasoning more than Theo's, despite wanting to permit Theo his privacy. 

Theo is five pages in when Malia comes near. 

"What do I do with this?" she holds out a vial with neon blue liquid between her index finger and thumb. She keeps up the play, that nothing is amiss and it's just your regular Wednesday. 

Theo swallows down bile. 

That particular vial is a poison non-lethal to werewolves but heavily lethal to him. Some magic shit contorted with science that has you believe your insides are melting cell by cell if made to consume it. Theo extends his arm in a languid manner, palm outstretched and clammy. Malia's eyes narrow, zipping to the sweat beading at his forehead and palm, to his far away and not entirely present gaze, all in opposition to his flat-line scent and pulse. 

She hesitates, catches Derek's eye next to Theo, before handing him the vial. And Theo is so far into his dissociation he doesn't handle the liquid with the warranted precaution, executes the motions by memory of seeing it done before his eyes, moments before the disaster. 

Swish the vial vigorously up and down, five times in total, twist the wrist until the liquid does a circular motion inside its glass confines and slam it into a solid surface, just enough to disrupt the molecules so that they solidify in an even more venomous neon blue, just not enough to break it. Shards of crystal form, the tips almost clear with most of the color saturated in the middle. 

"What is that?" Scott pipes up. He'd witnessed the entire process along with Liam, from their standpoint a few meters away.

"An analog to Aconitum Lamarckii, but works faster." Theo drones out, focused on the poison. 

They all seem to have a simultaneous recollection of the bullet shards ordeal, the same night Monroe fled. 

"It's not deadly to you." he adds, to lessen their unease. Ever since the full-out war started Argent has made every member of Scott’s pack educate themselves on how to distinguish the most common and deadly strains of wolfsbane, then roped up Theo into helping them when they got too confused with the minor, yet extremely vital differences.    

"Then who's it deadly to?" Derek has his head tilted to one side, eyeing the vial as though it’s a rattlesnake giving him a warning sign to get the fuck out of here. 

Theo's vision swims, tips on its axis. How did the Doctors even manage to save his body after they made him swallow a shard? The reaction had been immediate, with convulsions starting a brief five seconds after ingestion, throat unable to produce sounds other than blood curdling screams. 

"Me." he hears himself answer, handing the vial back to Malia nonchalantly like she can't just break it and secure his death within the minute. Ingestion isn't the only way to poison, the fumes do a considerable job, too. She'll even be able to enjoy his agony, satiate the coyote under her skin. Win-win.

It doesn't matter either way. His body is keen on sadism and makes him relive some of it without any of it present in his system. The files fall from his lap in a lamentable heap, just when he'd gotten to the part where an explanation as to how he lived past this shit was going to ensue. Theo picks them up, diligently places them together, brings them to his folded legs to straighten them out with a few taps and hangs his head to keep on reading with the words swimming in front of him. 

Apparently he's missed a conversation, as well as Liam getting on his knees in front of him, hands nearing Theo to gently pry the papers out of his numb fingers. Liam's own hold a tremor to them, quickly swinging his arm to deposit the files to Derek's keep, and clasp Theo's to rub circles into the middle of his palms. 

Pins and needles, pins and needles, ice in his blood. Noises in his ears, they thud. Pins and needles and blood, how hastily they flood. 

Jesus fucking Christ, is he making a mildly put disturbing nursery song in his head? That’s a new one. He's even more whacked in the head than he'd presumed.

Theo can see Liam's expression crack, wrath pushing through and his head aimed up at Derek. His mouth moves, yet Theo hears nothing of it. He uses the diversion to channel all the strength he has left for a trick move and slams the back of his head into the wall behind him. His ears ring, eyes closing to target the focal point of pain and latch onto it. The hands holding his own shake, take him by the wrists with brute force before they loosen up and one migrates to his forearm, then to his shoulder and finally settles on the juncture where neck and shoulder meet. It keeps his head still, though he won’t be making a repeater of this particular exercise. He just needed to shock his brain a little, force it to calm the fuck down and quit with the theatrics. The superhuman healing will deal with the rest for him.

Blood trickles down his nape, brings him back to his pathetic, curled up body in the motel bathtub a few days after Christmas, when he’d done the same thing in order to mobilize his nervous system. Theo keeps his eyes closed, forgets about his current lack of hearing to relish in his now steadily slowing pulse. His eyelids lift when he notices the pair of scalding hot palms on his face, on either cheek, pressing under his lower lashes and at the corners of his eyes.

Liam is distraught. Pissed. Terrified. On the verge of swinging an arm back to punch him, and he might have just done that if not for Theo's self-inflicted head trauma. But that, all of it, melts away. Dazed blue turns into liquid gold, inches closer to better analyze whatever he sees in Theo’s eyes. With his peripheral vision he catches sight of Scott and Derek crouched on either side of him and Malia a little behind Scott, her hand on Liam’s shoulder. They all waver, with suspended apprehension and staring just as intently, while Liam runs his thumbs under Theo’s eyes in feathery swipes, over and over again, careful and tender.

Theo’s hearing comes back online just as Malia grits out a confused what the fuck is that, Scott shooting Derek pleading glances, hoping he knows whatever the fuck is happening to Theo’s face. What? Is it muscle spasms? 

"She wasn't lying." Liam’s awe-struck voice gives him the clue, “They really were a different color.” people go to look at paintings in museums with that particular look. Why is he aiming it at Theo? The creature better off alone and isolated, lest he turns all psycho on everybody again. He’s not worthy of it.

Wait, back to the topic. 

Color. 

Liam said color. What color? They’re genetically engineered to maintain the false gold, undeserving of it when his hands metaphorically drip with innocent blood. But Liam used Bree’s words, when she saw Theo's shifted eyes and realized they aren’t what they used to be. And in a quick roll of the tape he remembers that day on the clearing, with Yao Feng scrambling his brain, with the crystal clear picture of him and Bree standing in front of a mirror. Theo holding that fucking tumbled Jadeite mineral glowing like it leaks radiation, enchanted by the now deceased coven. His only key out from the Doctors.

“See?” he hears her word for word in the back of his mind. ”Looks like your eyes.”

Ah. The poison eyes. He fucking loathed them, still does. Arsenic green with little lines of white woven in-between, like a shattered and useless thing. Pretty only in theory, ugly when destroyed and the more you observe at it, the more you want to look away, afraid you’ll get infected with something. Those eyes. 

The brief hours when he’d been free was the first time he reconsidered the hideousness of them, thinking that the symbol of his liberation, given to him by Bree no less, should be deemed as something other than the color of toxic waste.

“Derek?” Scott tries verbally when his pleading expression gets him nothing. 

Derek shakes his head, “This is a byproduct of genetic experimentation. I’ve no idea.” 

“Liam, what did you mean by she wasn't lying?” Malia tries to pull Liam back a bit. Key word: tries. Liam won’t budge. He’s too busy exposing himself to unsightly shit. 

"Bree." a pause and he fixes his misstep. "Uh, Brenna. Yao Feng's little sister."

Theo tries to move his head away, eyelids drooping to hide the venom. “Hey, no, no, no. Don’t move, okay? C’mon, open your eyes.” the astonishment-induced ease is hastily replaced by uneasy dread. Liam must think he’s seconds away from shifting to his wolf form. “Theo.” 

Theo grits his teeth, shaking his head with his brows pulling together. He doesn’t want Liam to see that when he’s already been witness to too much damning shit. What is it with him and his nosy pack and their need to dissect everything about Theo and the mismatched variations of the word abomination? He gets it. He fucked them over, killed Scott and traumatized the rest, along with Scott himself. He gets it, okay? But can’t they pick a better moment to do more damage? Fuck’s sake.

To his delight anger seems to be the key in this situation. It mobilizes him with the help of the stinging split in his scalp, now almost healed after having left a sticky residue of carmine in its wake. He applies iron pressure to Liam’s breast bone with his palm in a quick move, to make him lose balance and force him into Scott and Malia’s arms, then uses the wall as a crutch to get to his feet. He permits Derek’s touch because it’s a helping hand, rather than a shackle to bring him back to the floor. 

He snatches his files back, clutches the paper in his hand, hearing it crinkle and bunching, and heads towards the nearest reflective surface. So it is true. As Theo snarls a huff and focuses, notices a brief flicker of gold. There. He feels it. It's working. He calls off the shift for an interim of time, flickers it back on and his chest lets go of the air in his lungs in a leveled exhale. 

Gold. They're golden again.

Liam advances, turns Theo over with a palm on his shoulder. There's something in his eyes Theo isn't able to follow the thread of, similarly to the other thing that evades him each and every time Liam exhibits it. 

Liam's lips part, like he's going to say something, but Theo sidesteps him to take care of the rest of the deactivation. 

"Go outside. I'll be out in ten." and if he sounds too gruff and cold, more than they've ever heard him, it's none of their business.

"Like hell." Liam snarks back at him, trails him, or more like stalks like a hungry wolf looking for a way in on a pounce.

"Go outside." Theo repeats, in the same infliction. He drags a hand over his nape to collect the blood, wipe it in his shirt, and continues disemboweling the theater piece by piece. 

Liam doesn't react well to Scott ushering him to the entrance. "He just crashed his own skull in the fucking wall and you want me to leave him here alone?" his bellow echoes in the dark space.

Scott chooses his words, breathes them out with guilt layering them like a heavy quilt, a realization that must have hurt him to understand, as well as accept. "We're not helping, Liam." he states, voice urging and more than a little lost, unable to think of any other way to proceed but to do what Theo asked for. "We're making it worse." 

Theo forces himself to not catalogue Liam further than the skip of his pulse and the small sound that lodges itself into his throat. Scott drags him out with Derek in tow. Malia is the last one to leave, stays another minute to watch Theo's calculating movements and take apart his suppressed chemo signals. 

"He worries for you. A lot." she tells him when they're far away, like it's a secret and not something Theo is well aware of, wants to extinguish because of that pitiful thing in him and how much it likes being thought of. "And he cares about you. Also a lot." she carries on, but with her position he can't see her. 

"Not like we all don't know how much of a fuck up that is." he doesn't hide the angry bitterness from her when she's on the same page as him. She doesn't like him being what he is to Liam either. Not like he can blame her. 

"It wouldn't have been if you didn't have the emotional range of a tattered couch and actually stopped with the self-sacrificing. And if you finally acted on—"

"Puh-lease." Theo snorts, uses too much force in shattering a glass tank with a kick to the middle of the surface. "He doesn't need that." 

He doesn't need me, he wants to say, but that's too much honesty. What Liam needs is a person as genuine and sunny as himself, not Theo fucking Raeken with his circus of horrors and all the consequences of his actions catching up. Or his gloomy, cynical and self-destructive state of being—hey, he's self-aware, he knows he's not a bag of sunshine, never has been.

Malia mulls something over, but doesn't act upon it and lets him be.

*

Liam is in Derek's room when Theo comes out of the shower. He'd gone with Scott and Malia on the way back to the motel, Theo free to put on whatever music he liked. Deep bass, low voices, eerie sound and all that. The kind of music Liam would talk through to engage him in a conversation when he's more fond of upbeat or louder songs that don't leave you stranded in your own thoughts. 

Theo uses the alone time to unwind, to bring himself back into his body. If he doesn't do it now, all he'll do is think about how sick it makes him that he has to do this—breaking down until the pathetic insides of his mind come to the surface—with an audience. It's kind of a pride thing, but not entirely. Nobody likes vulnerability, least of all Theo. He could turn a blind eye to Liam because Liam seems to always be a weakness of his, when it was just them, but not to the three other additions.

He falls asleep on his bed, curled on his side with the phone held in his hand, to feel the vibrations of the music through the metal panels. He wakes to Liam crouched by the bed, gently prying it out of his lax fingers to lower the volume and leave it right next to him, like he knows Theo won't be able to sleep well enough without this type of background noise. The moment Theo debates whether to open his eyes and gauge the state Liam's in, a warm palm presses over them.

"Go back to sleep." it's withdrawn, voice scratchy, but holds no room for naysays. So Theo listens. 

And then he wakes up again.

A hand flying to his mouth to keep himself from throwing up, his legs carrying him to the bathroom all the while he feels like he's half out of his body. He manages to not slam the door by some miracle. His stomach keeps on spasming, forcing him to empty it out. His vision swims, like he's on a boat at sea, swaying left and right, left and right. He closes the lid of the toilet to flush it and lessen the acidic stench of the air after he's done, but he can't get up. 

That's when Liam comes in, sleep groggy, yet his pulse is jumping all over the place. Theo tries to get up, forces his weak muscles to cooperate with his need to rinse his mouth and slosh some toothpaste in it. Liam clearly gets the idea, uses his shoulder to hoist up the better part of Theo's weight and guide him to the sink, all the while maintaining his stance as a furnace-like pillar, immovable from his place next to Theo. 

Only when he's gotten rid of the sour taste does his body further betray him. He catches himself on the edge of the sink, one leg bucking, almost making him land his face in the mirror above the sink. The world is starting to look squiggly, a Starry Night brought to life in front of his eyes, which he has no idea how long have been flared for, but they lose the gold and to his horror melt into that god awful arsenic shade. Liam steering him to his bed is the only thing stopping him from actually breaking the mirror when he sees them. 

Theo is just about to open his mouth when Liam says, "Say you're fine and you'll be dealing with a livid Derek and Malia who I'll wake up just so I can watch them rip you a new one."

Theo snaps his jaws shut, the click of enamel on enamel audible in the quiet that's interrupted only by the low-volume music still playing from his phone. Liam deposits him on the bed with a dead serious face, mouth pinched tight, and despite those factors it's still a gentle action. 

"How the fuck are you supposed to get better when you keep pouring acid on yourself?" Liam spits out, the hint of his lupine side burring the words. His fists stay clenched at his sides as he gazes down at Theo. "Spare me the spiel, I know all your excuses disguised as logical explanations by now."

Theo runs a trembling hand over his face, muscles weak, lungs still not quite there yet with the full expansion function they're supposed to be carrying out. 

"And yeah, I know. Not now, preferably not ever, right? God forbid you actually talk about it."

Either Theo is too predictable or he's so tired that he's an open book. Possibly both, actually. Liam is one of the few people who have, indeed, heard all of his reasoning. Yes, reasoning, not excuses. He's not happy about the whole reliving the trauma crap either, and he's guilty for maintaining a self-destructive mindset, but it doesn't mean he'd go this far if the circumstances didn't force his hand. Liam and his world view, his clean hands, don't have the capacity to put it into perspective the way Theo can and does, day in and day out.

"Okay." he gives, surrendering in a way. It takes Liam aback, apparently having expected to receive a comeback. 

Theo reaches for his phone, fails to unlock it five times before he actually succeeds, to hit the pause button on the player. The music isn't really doing it for him anymore. He needs quiet. 

His phone almost lands on the floor with how bad his hands tremble, when he goes to place it screen down by his head. There's no use for setting an alarm. Liam won't let him out of the room until Theo has had more than seven hours of sleep in a row. 

Liam goes to his bed, stops right in front of it to glance over his shoulder at Theo. He then proceeds to take his pillow and comforter, bodily moves Theo from the middle of his bed to the right side in order to climb in with him. So he's that freaked out. 

They're face to face, Theo with no spare energy to turn. His eyes give up on him when the animals under his skin find solace in Liam's body heat and scent, needing just this tiny comfort to lay back and forget all about the nightmares. 

He sleeps undisturbed for the next eight hours. 

*

They take care of the whopping amount of four theaters, Scott folding under Liam's constant state of aggravated anger after each and every time Theo does a forced lock down on his emotions. It gets to the point where after a one-sided verbal fight with Malia—he doesn't remember what set her off, but she's been slowly surrendering to the coyote's caginess and it finally seeped through it seems—he answers her jagged we should have put you back in the ground with a detached probably, not like it's ever been off the table to begin with, which unlocks a string of shouting matches between herself and Liam, a taken aback Derek and a horrified Scott. All in the same minute. 

Theo smokes outside, sat on the hood of his truck and texting Bree while he waits them out. Least of all he expects Liam to storm out of their shared motel room, where the disaster occurred, with their duffel bags slung atop each of his shoulders. He throws them in the backseat, then himself into the passenger seat. 

He doesn't order Theo around while he's finishing his cigarette, however the first words out of his mouth are a direct command:

"Drive. We're going back." Liam doesn't look at him, instead his eyes are concentrated with all their anger in the direction of the motel door he just slammed closed. 

Scott and Derek are talking Malia out of breaking the room apart, until Scott finally breaks.

"Malia!" he shouts, with not a small tint of alpha werewolf underneath. He'll hate himself for it later, Theo knows. Scott rarely likes utilizing this unless it's highly necessary, is uncomfortable with the power he can hold with just his voice. "Malia, that's enough." he's switched back to pleading and panicking, already regretting his slip up. "Please. Enough." 

Liam has one elbow to the edge of the window, to press his curled fingers to his mouth, still observing the door as though he can see through it. He fights to take measured inhales, rather than the heavy breathing he can't seem to shake himself out of. 

Theo can reach out, initiate contact to calm him down in a matter of seconds. He doesn't. Instead, he takes advantage of their supernatural hearing. 

"Scott? Are we heading back or not?"

Insensitive to the barely diffused situation? Yes. Any spare fucks to give? No.

It's Derek who answers him, "Yeah. We're leaving. You guys get a head start, we'll catch up."

Liam moves the fingers from smushing his lips to rub at his eyes, shoulders easing up the slightest bit the moment Theo starts the truck. Theo is mute and numb for the first hour and it appears that so is Liam. At hour two he can't tolerate the quiet anymore and puts on music from his connected phone, the slow and reverberating bass notes tearing some of the phantoms out of his vision. 

Then Bree calls. And of course, he picks up. He never has it in him to decline, no matter what state he's in.

"Hey." Liam turns to look at him at the soft and quiet greeting.

"'Sup. Dick move for ghosting me, by the way. And big bro said he has some new intel for ya, but he'll need another hour to compile all that shit in some semblance of order. Do you have any idea of the chaos in here? Believe me, you don't. Declan almost yeeted a fucking wok at his head this morning while Raji and Tiana just kept laughing at him like those hyenas from the Lion King." Declan, the supermodel emissary. The other two Theo had only glimpsed during the Feng pack reunion, didn't properly meet them. "And it's why he never wants anybody over. They're gonna see how much of a loser he is, underneath all the posturing." she talks without taking a breath, speech quick and a trip to nostalgia; it's the same way she spoke when they did catching up during recess or after school. "Anyway, how's it goin' on your end?"

Liam chokes, uncertain as to how he should react to the word vomit and the consequential blackmail they suddenly have on Yao Feng. You know, the stoic painting of a man who can pulverize you with a sole look. All at once, Theo wants to formally meet this emissary of his. 

"We're heading back to Beacon Hills."

A pause, during which Theo mentally prepares himself for when Bree understands the underlying meaning. 

"You're not alone, right?"

This right here is the warning before she pulls the mom friend card and rains hellfire on him if the answer is what Theo wants it to be. In this case he's glad he doesn't even have to choose whether a white lie would be worth lying to Bree of all people.

"Scott, Liam, Derek and Malia tagged along, so yeah, I had babysitters."

"Babysitters?" Liam screeches, like it's Theo with the audacity to complain. 

"Hey," Theo can hear her inner debate of trying to maintain some semblance of propriety before she throws it all out the window and gives a quick exhale that Theo is a thousand percent certain is accompanied by an audacious grin. As in, she's following Theo's sympathies, not Yao Feng's. "Liam, right?" 

Liam gulps, one arm raising to point at the phone, then to himself before he blinks in a fast sequence. "Uh. Yeah, it's Liam. Hi."

"How is he really? I have zero intentions of believing any word out of his dumbass mouth concerning his well-being."

Liam's head swivels towards Theo, hand waving in the air in a silent see, I'm not melodramatic, you fucking asshole like he's been dying to tell him since this morning. 

"He's being a stuck up prick about it, well deserving of a clown face at this point."

Bree lets her own hyena laugh before she clicks her tongue. "Oh yeah, but I'm too concerned for you and I'm nannying you, Theodore? Sure. " 

"Shut up, Brianna."

Liam and Bree answer in unison, a doubtful and dragged out, "Uh-huh."

Theo should have expected them to bond over their hatred aimed at Theo's coping or lack thereof. Any irritation, however, is a farce. Deep down, he's overly relieved that the two people he's so emotionally attached to, beyond any capacity he thought himself capable of, are getting along like bread and butter. 

*

They're down to five theaters in need of neutering and nobody is letting him step a foot out of Beacon Hills. 

Scott cornered him a few hours after both groups got back. At least he gave him some time to shower and asked Derek to take Alec outside somewhere to give them privacy while also corralling Liam to go home for a few hours. 

"Okay." Scott runs his hands up his face, into his hair to shake off whatever jitters render him unable to sit still. "I have no idea how to start this conversation."

Theo gives him a deadpan look, crosses an arm over his abdomen while sipping his water, all the while demonstratively not helping him. 

"After you got back I wasn't ever sure you'll wake up as you again."

Well he'll be damned, Scott decided to take the jump after all. No platitudes beforehand, bravo.

"Lucia told us it'll be fifty-fifty, with how the shift had progressed to pushing your consciousness to the back of your mind. And then you wouldn't show signs of recognition even when Malia shifted and. Well."

Scott's eyes dart to one corner of the room, signalling his recollection of whatever sequence of events happened. Probably something to do with Liam and Alec and how they witnessed Theo dying on them, if for an interim of time. It's not even that big of a deal, he wasn't brain dead for too long and even if it'd passed the seven minute mark he would have retained normal brain and body function without any magical or scientific boost as long as he hadn't crossed fifteen minutes. But it's not like he can say this. Scott's pack is soft, doesn't do well with hard and impersonal data and they can't understand just how much that same data is his lifeline most days and how much it helps preserve his sanity. They see clinical where he feels comfort.

"That and finding out you'd been living in your truck." here Scott holds his eyes, having sat down on the couch with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together with his head low. "You know the worst of it? I think that deep down I knew something was wrong. What with how you spoke of your apartment with Alec, the debate in my house when you refused to elaborate on why you can't take Alec to your place, the detachment. I think I knew. I just—"

"You didn't want to acknowledge it."

Scott's head snaps up, a panicky thing crawling onto his face.

"It's okay, Scott. I'm pretty sure that out of everybody I get it the most. After all, it was my claws in your abdomen. It was me who killed you."

Scott's mouth pinches, breaths starting to tumble into a zone of heaving. It's an internal war, after all. 

"Theo," he says, preventing Theo from continuing. They stare at each other for a long time, however long it takes for Scott to choose his words, handpicking them piece by piece. "What you did to us, what your involvement made of us, I wish I could say it's in the past." he winces, pained because he doesn't want to lie, but also because the truth is too hard for him to swallow. "It'll take more time for us to fight off the first instinct of reaction, to change it from weariness to something else."

If ever, Theo muses internally. He hardly doubts they'll ever have middle ground. His claws had dig in too deep, literally and figuratively. Nearly every member of Scott's pack has sustained one form of trauma or another, all courtesy of Theo. 

Trusting because your association with the person who re-entered your life made you keep your guard down, unaware that he's been pouring gasoline over the threads connecting you to some of your dearest people and setting them alight, receiving vindictive claws in your abdomen for your kindness. Locked up in a psych ward for supernatural creatures, then falling into a limbo of losing your own mind and autonomy while not being able to be present in the present because of the unwilling experiments done on you. Leaving you for dead with a fatal wound, handing you over to the mother that never saw you as a child, but a burden and an obstacle to kill, while also playing your instincts through foul manipulation tactics. Nearly killing your only parent left, the last of your family, setting you up to create a rift between you and your best fucking friend, to shatter yet another piece of you that you can't afford to lose if you want to keep it together. Bringing you back to life, treating you like you're a disposable napkin, luring you with measured words, then killing two of your own for the gluttony for power, killing two people you've unfortunately formed bonds of understanding that plague you in the present because you can never get them back. And then. Spinning your winding mechanism, twisting and twisting and twisting, fucking with your head until you snap and nearly kill the person who saved you and took you in like a little brother, who's done his best to guide you when the rage of your own indisposition renders you unable to think straight, making you live with these fragments of memories until your last breath.

And that's just the members still present in Beacon Hills. He helped screw up Kira's powers to the point where she had to leave in order to protect everybody else from herself. He killed Josh and Tracy.

Theo knows his sins all too well. And he's not that much of an asshole to play pretend and hope that time will mend all of those wounds done by his wit and hands.

"But that doesn't mean that what you have gone through is invalid and should be kicked in the corner." 

Theo lifts a shoulder, not in any mood to hide his indifference. "It made me stronger."

"That's not the point." Scott bites out, quick and admonishing, like he's losing his patience with whatever point he's failing to solidify. 

"Yeah, it is. If it'd crippled me - sure. But it didn't."

Scott's eyes are increments away from bulging out of his skull in incredulity. His scent becomes this tangled ball of emotion that is more Liam's signature reaction than Scott's. 

"It did, Theo." he says, slow and calm, like he's willing himself to speak this way.

"With what, Scott? Nightmares? Everybody has nightmares."

Thing is, Theo is aware that Scott's right to a degree. Though most of the shit surfacing for the past months is from the too quick recollection, not giving his brain enough time to file away all the details and instead dumping an Olympics pool in a tiny and deserted shed. It was expected and he's finding ways to do damage control. Of course it's not normal childhood, what he had, but he chose it for himself. He chose it.

Scott gets up, hands making a mess of his hair as he paces the room, breathing askew. 

"He was right." Scott whispers, to himself most likely, unaware he's saying it out loud.

"Who? About what?" Theo lifts a hand to sway it in the air to get his attention.

Scott comes to a halt with his back to Theo, to brace himself on the kitchen island. "Liam." is the one thing he gives before moving his head in order to look at Theo from over his shoulder with a pained face. "About you."

Theo's still lost. 

"The day you came back, after we found you unresponsive and were waiting for Lucia, he said something."

Theo leaves the empty glass on the counter behind him. Something tells him he won't like what follows.

"He said that you're not even aware of how deep they—"

"I'm gonna stop you here. Liam loves invoking fables out of vague details."

Scott raises his voice, to talk over him and continue. "Of how deeply they fucked you up and how much they altered you." his expression has gone hard, burgundy peeking into his brown eyes from the stress he's caused himself. "Of how much you think it's a lie. And refuse to accept anything else but what they planted in your head." 

Theo breathes out a leveled breath. He's up to here with patience regarding that topic. First with Liam while he retold everything to his parents, then in the Preserve before the fireworks on New Year's Eve, now this. 

"Riddle me this, Scott. Why is Tara dead?"

Scott recoils, losing the alpha edge in a millisecond. 

"Why are Tracy and Josh dead? Who killed you? Who turned Liam against you? Who put Lydia in Eichen? Who—"

Scott turns away again, nearly folded over the kitchen island with his curled fingers digging into his mouth and lower chin, eyes closed. 

"I know you're a good person. But it's not like I didn't get served what I ordered. At the end of the day, I went with them while—" Theo swallows down bile, forces himself to soldier on. "While Tara kept on calling after me. Who the fuck does that?"

The laugh coming out of his throat startles them both, brittle and bleak, hysterical even. 

"Who does that?" follows after it, just as hysterical. 

Scott's next words have no right to be this gentle, not for Theo. "How did they convince you?" 

And this understanding, the answer to the question, fractures yet another part of his already spider-webbed foundation. 

"I can't remember." 

Knowing his twisted self it could have been jealousy. The need to get back at his parents and their fucking snobby assess for having a child they didn't even want, then condemn it when it didn't fit the norm. Some fairy tale that it's just a dream and that there won't be consequences to his actions, no matter what he does to obtain what he wants. But he can't remember. All he knows is that he watched his hypothermic sister, who fell in the creek and broke her ankle, struggling to get out, hand reaching out to him while he stood by and did nothing. 

Nothing.

An all-consuming wave of rage falls like a veil over him, thick and cloying and strident to the point where his muscles shake with it. 

Theo leaves the scene, doesn't react to Scott yelling his name after him while he takes the stairs to his part of the apartment.

"Theo, please."  Tara had begged for help with her last breath. 

Dying and afraid. While her baby brother, whom she'd always taken care of, put his needs before her own and tried to compensate for their parents' lack of love for him with her own, watched. 

Honestly? Seven hundred and seventy-seven ripped out hearts was too little of a punishment for him. 

He locks himself in the bathroom until Scott leaves, deaf to his pleas. Deaf to everything but,

"Theo, please."

*

Alec finds him on the floor, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. To his credit, he tries to his best abilities to give Theo space, doesn't crowd him or demand anything of him. He keeps digging his teeth into his lower lip, stewing on his bed in the corner, next to the windows. 

"It's fine." Theo rasps, catching Alec's disbelieving sound, which is no doubt accompanied by a sour face.

A huff and, "Can I say something that has the potential to piss you off?" he's not really asking, will say it either way.

Theo snorts, "Go right ahead."

"You're so abhorrently fucking stupid sometimes that I really want to throw a brick at your head. Maybe if I do, the sleeping grey matter in your brain will suddenly double in size and actually start working for a change."

The dig cracks some of Theo's resolve, mouth twitching. Alec can sure get creative with his insults, he respects that. He doesn't try to stop the amusement showing in his scent.

"Oh, and don't think for a second that I've forgotten about Christmas and what you were doing instead of celebrating with us. Or what happened after Christmas." he sounds like he's a step away from taking Melissa's stance when she scolds Scott and Stiles. 

Which reminds him, he never told the kid he has a present for him. Alec is the sole individual he permitted himself to get one for, with the reasoning that Alec, who hasn't had a proper present since he was probably a child, deserves to experience the Christmas spirit properly. It's a bit too late now, and quite frankly his mind had wiped it from his head until he'd gotten back with Liam, but what's done is done and it's still waiting to be unwrapped.

He snaps his fingers to get his attention and Alec's rant is cut short. Theo points at his part of the apartment, up the stairs, does a shooing motion in its direction.

"Wardrobe." he tells Alec, shifts his head to watch him run up the stairs in a very similar manner to the Roadrunner after a lagging second.

The tiny creak of the wardrobe being opened, and: "Holy shit! Holy shit, Theo!" Alec runs to the railing, bracing himself on it in the last moment and doing a little jump. "That's for me?" then his face spasm, scent tanking. "But I only got you—"

He "only" got Theo a pretty snow globe with an astonishing carving of a wolf and a coyote inside if it, curled together in harmony and when you would shake it, small and glittery snow with would surround them, then change its color to a blue hue with sparkles of aurora green in-between. He's no idea where Alec got his hands on the thing, but it's not just a present. Theo hasn't stopped looking at it every night since Alec gave it to him, and it works as kind of a dream-catcher, helps him sleep better and pulls him back to reality when he's powerless and incapable of finding the way.

"Not the point of this." Theo looks up at him, lets his facial muscles relax into a tiny smile. "They're yours, kid, like I promised. Go batshit crazy."

Theo promised him during Alec's first full moon, that fateful and stressful phone call, that he'd get him quality speakers. He'd just waited to give them as a Christmas present to be sure Alec will accept them as such, and not as a pity slip, or a dig at his control of the shift.

The speakers are kind of monstrous, sleek and black, almost up to Alec's chest. Theo had to get to elaborate scheming in order to get them in the apartment while Alec was out with the kiddie squad, Nolan updating him when they'd be back and which roads to evade. And it was worth it. The sound they produce is literally out of this world. The first thing Theo did once he'd snuck them in was to test the bass and reverberation, goosebumps rising on his whole body at the very first few notes. He'd had a hard time turning them off to hide them, was left in a mild state of euphoria afterwards.

Theo helps him connect the speakers and turn them on, arranges them for optimal sound, all the while taking every embrace Alec throws at him, each more heartfelt than the last. And Alec collapses into a pile of goo on the floor alongside Theo, basking in the vibrations carrying in the air, shaking with the elation, eyes wide and exhilarated.

His happiness soothes some of Theo's bad mood, lets his lungs take in a proper amount of air for the first time since Scott left.

Alec raises a shaky finger in the air, high on the emotions and the perfectly surrounding bass of the song he'd put on. "Correction: you might be as stupid as I am, if not more, which is an astounding achievement in itself. But! You have taste." he nods his head, swirls his fingers in a circle, lifts it up higher. "And this is the best present I've gotten in my entire life, so I'll be generous and keep it a secret for you, as long as you don't piss me off again." 

And Theo laughs, a deep belly laugh and makes his abdominal muscles seize, curls on one side with it. For a few moments he's content to forget, just exist in the present and laugh along with Alec.

*

The following four days he barely sleeps, overworking himself to occupy his mind. The ashtray he'd dug out of the back of a drawer in the kitchen is steadily becoming his companion out on the balcony. He dodges every call Scott makes, every text, every message he asks Alec to relay to him. The irony of Scott's need to point him into a different direction, beliefs-related, backfiring into Theo putting his emotions on complete and total shutdown isn't lost on him. 

Somehow word goes out to Lucia. Which is how he finds himself in her living room, accompanied by Derek because god for-fucking-bid he goes alone. He accepted her invitation with full knowledge of her intentions, just to get away from Scott's pack and most importantly - from Liam. 

He makes small talk with Monica, the alleged werewolf ghost whisperer and also Lucia's first beta, while outside. She's more laid back since the last time he saw her, all soft indoor clothes and loose short hair that gets in her face when the breeze picks up. 

He'd started with this:

"I reckon Lucia tipped you in on why the Doctors were in Stockton five years ago and you're not stupid by a long shot. Just in case they were right, I don't wanna know if I'm actually being haunted or not. The shit in my head is enough." 

Monica blinks, looks him up and down, appraising, before her whole frame relaxes further and her lips pull just the tiniest bit in a knowing smile. "Fine by me." 

And Theo, he doesn't know how he knows. If it's a memory he hasn't uncovered or just his instinct. But he knows. She is what the Doctors presumed she is, only they didn't have enough evidence to act upon their madness. He just doesn't feel the need to hear the words of any dead person, in fact is scared shitless that he'll lose the scant remainder of his sanity if he does. Maybe one day, if he's alive long enough to pull his shit together, he will. Not now.

"I heard Scott's beta wanted to come along."

Ha. More like she was present for the phone call when Lucia up and decided that Theo is going to be her guest for the upcoming three days and that Scott can deal with it. No, she didn't ask permission or contact Theo beforehand, further than a seemingly innocent conversation while Theo may or may not have been in the middle of a dissociative episode. And he bets Liam had several outbursts over the duration of the call.

"Kiddies have school." Theo offers, to add more fire to the joke. 

Monica grins, glancing behind Theo to tilt her chin in a nod at Lucia having just emerged from the house. She leaves Theo then, also with a nod, to let Lucia interrogate her guest. They brush hands when they pass each other.

Lucia hands him a ginormous, steaming bowl of beef paprikash, also carrying a basket of sliced homemade sourdough bread on the elbow of the same arm that held the bowl. 

"You don't eat enough." she grumbles while nudging the basket towards him.

The paprikash is an astounding mix of spices, the meat tender, and it all melts in his mouth. He practically inhales it, along with what might possibly be at least half of a big loaf. Lucia goes over some new information where he doesn't need to speak or do anything but shake and nod his head, stops to ask him if he wants seconds, gleeful when he refuses and has a hard time thinking after the stunning amount of food he consumed in under fifteen minutes.

"So. We both know why I kidnapped you and if I hear the f word, I'll fucking whack you with a pan." she means fine, is his realization, not fuck. "From all the observations I've had, your mental health deteriorates by the minute, yet you sit there in your circle of fire and pretend you're not being burned alive."

"That's a bit of a stretch."

Lucia aims her sharp eyes at him, hooded and unamused. "Don't make me pull Feng's little sister as an ace, kid."

Theo's expression hardens, then falls altogether. He hunches over at the prospect of Bree getting a whiff of his nonexistent mental stability. The reason he doesn't explode is because it's Lucia, an adult who won't meddle just to make a statement, not about this, and who isn't saying it just because. That, and he might also respect her more. Her words aren't a threat, more a not so gentle nudge to remind him that Bree has no idea of this, to urge his protective instincts to take care of himself in order to not hurt her. Manipulation tactics at their finest, if used for good.

Lucia leans back on her hand in the grass, crosses her ankles and breezily adds, "You know, McKane went to supernatural therapy regarding an eerily similar problem and turned out fine."

McKane with the military and his bossy emissary Danny. Theo wouldn't have pegged him one to even consider therapy.

Lucia catches onto his train of thought. "No, it wasn't willing. Danny blackmailed him into it."

Theo snorts, mind already forming the scene and execution when he's communicated with them on more than a few occasions and was witness to more than one of their circus specials. The short, yelling guy browbeating his alpha to go sit on a chair, fucking vent it all out before it kills you, you fucking degenerate of a werewolf, Jesus.

"I'm not saying you go to the same one." she clocks a glance at him. "She's good, though, even I had a turn. Just consider it. Maybe even talk to McKane, if you will. Underneath all that short hair and constipated behavior he's a softie, single-handedly built an animal shelter from the ground and adopted a raccoon and a fox cub when they couldn't find homes."

This is why Theo came here. If there's one person capable of making him consider doing the unthinkable it's Lucia fucking Amadio. She'll serve it through a careful approach fitted for the individual she's trying to sell it to. He knows it's highly unlikely he follows through, but even thinking of doing it is a step forward. 

"Why'd you go?" he looks up at her from under his brow, head low. He's not exactly asking why, but who convinced her. And she gets it.

Lucia tilts her head up, to look at the last rays of the sun setting the entire expanse of the sky in shades of red, orange and pink. "Monica." she confesses. "After I lost my mother I didn't really take it well. Dad tried his best to swallow down his own despair to help me overcome mine, but I'd become a fury of grief. Being a new alpha didn't help either, the inherited power doing jack all to satiate the blood lust, made it more potent."

Lucia wasn't born a werewolf, her father is human. But her mother bit her in dire circumstances, her hand forced the same way Yao Feng's was with Bree.

She reaches for the pendant around her neck, a ruby red stone she twirls between her fingers, reminiscing. 

"Truth to be told, I didn't want to get better. Just find the sons of bitches who murdered my mom and make them suffer the same pain I went through, a hundred fold." her eyes glow red, scent an amalgamation of emotions rooted in anger and sorrow. "Then one day Moni told me that dad cried over a mug of mom's favorite mint tea nearly every night because he feared I'd get myself killed, too." a thin sheen of tears forms in her eyes, and then she catches his gaze. "That he'll lose the rest of his family and his efforts won't be enough to protect me from myself."

Theo isn't compassionate by nature. The short retell of the past events still hits him like a train. 

"And so you went." he summarizes, throat tight.

"And so I went." 

The sun sets in the following ten minutes, quick to turn its back on them with winter still holding tight. Only then does he get to the conclusion that he's no longer comfortable and is merely enduring the cold. 

Lucia shepherds him to the house, makes him and Derek coffee.

"Make sure he doesn't run for the hills, will you?" she aims at Derek, returning Theo's crude gesture with an identical one, and goes to have a video call with whoever.

"Can you not?" Theo rests his face in his palms, elbows to the solid wooden kitchen table. 

Derek lets out a wry breath through his nose, "You're worse than I am in regard to self-help."

"I'm fine just the way I am." Theo mumbles, automatically countering because whatever Derek is saying now is fueled by whatever Scott asked him to beat through Theo's skull.

"There's literally nobody who will back you up on it." there's some of the indignation seeping into Derek's tone now, too.

"Yeah, well, good thing I'm used to being alone." okay, admittedly that was a bit too dramatic, but if it does the job it does the job.

The stretch of silence isn't a comfortable one. 

"The fucked up thing is that you actually believe it."

Theo uncovers his eyes, slants them to Derek who is posed with his back to a counter with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, hardly trying to conceal his lack of approval. 

Lucia barges in to save Theo from answering, snapping her fingers at him to get his attention. "One sec." she tells whoever is on the other side of the phone before she mutes herself. "It's McKane. Believe it or not, I didn't even orchestrate it this time. He's in the area."

Translating to: I'm not trying to tip your hand, you can say no and if you thought about our conversation, there's no better time than the present. 

She doesn't push for an answer, waits him to empty his glass of water. Theo nods with his last swallow, offers her, "Sure. Why the fuck not?"

Lucia's smile is blinding, proud, and she lays a hand on his shoulder briefly, squeezing, before she unmutes herself and continues to where she left off with McKane. 

"No, sweetheart, that's not a chew toy, you'll hurt your teeth that way." comes through the speaker, McKane's tone soft and calm. "Ah shit, give me a minute, Bayley is tryin'a bite through the handles of the pliers. C'mere, girl. I know you wanna, but that's a no this time."

Bayley has to be either the fox or the raccoon, if Theo's right. Derek looks from Lucia's retreating back to Theo, does the motion again, until his forehead smooths out. 

"You're willingly socializing outside of strategy work?"

Theo drinks his coffee in three swigs. "Blame Lucia." 

McKane and Danny make their appearance known before they even stop the car, in the middle of a debate over pineapple and whether its presence on top of a pizza is just begging for murder or not.

"Absolutely fucking not, Steve. Just don't." Danny yells, slamming his door shut. "Now gimme back my keys." silence for a shopping two seconds, then, "It's my car, you Neanderthal! Keys, now!"

Theo and Derek share a look, Lucia and a few of her betas shaking their heads with wide grins. 

McKane barges in holding a fox swathed in blankets like one would their newborn child. The fox, Bayley, starts yipping happily upon seeing Lucia who immediately goes over to coo at it. 

"There's my favourite girl!" she picks up Bayley, despite McKane's lack of cooperation, unraveling the blankets. Bayley starts vibrating in her arms, fluffy tail wagging not unlike wonky helicopter rotor plates.

"You'll spoil her again." McKane grumbles, entirely unsuccessful in hiding his delight. "Careful with her right leg. We just got the cast off a week ago." 

Lucia's entire pack swarms Bayley to use their baby voices on her and have a turn at petting her soft-looking coat. Bayley laps it all up, nuzzles every hand, playfully biting at fingers that stay on her for too long. It transpires for less than a minute before she starts getting overwhelmed by the attention and McKane takes her back into his gentle hands, pressed her head atop his chest. 

"That's a good girl." he even starts trotting around the place, swaying her carefully, waiting for her pulse to normalize so that her body temp can also go down to a comfortable state.

During that time Derek has inched closer, nodding at McKane. The man lets him run careful fingers atop her head. Bayley turns her head to look up at him, a new individual she hasn't seen before, her ears dropping low to the sides, before she decides he's not a threat and relaxes. 

Theo stays where he is. And McKane tags it. His eyes narrow a bit, judging his lack of want to pet the furry little creature everybody seems to have developed a love at first sight connection with. He shares a look with Lucia, sighs with the conclusion that he isn't in her house just because this time around, and purses his mouth.

Danny gives a loud groan, head thrown back. "What's that constipated look for, huh? Maybe the kid saw Bayley go too excited and opted not to flood her with more input? Quit looking for conflict where there is," he waves his pinched fingers at McKane, one hand on his hip. "None. Nada."

McKane drops the calculating expression to pull a face at Danny. Lucia points everybody to the spacious living area, with a subtle upward tilt to her lips at Theo. 

Danny is the one with the last words, finger pointed at McKane. "I'm watching you." and he turns on his heel to go down the hallway to a room where he most certainly won't be able to watch him.

Theo stomps down his animals' natural instinct to scram and camouflage his existence by mingling with the mass. McKane's steps towards him are measured. Not too fast, not too slow or menacing. The last part is entirely lost with how he's dressed in cargo pants and a black tee, like he's out on the field and not like he was about to have a gossip afternoon with Lucia. 

Bayley immediately freezes upon catching sight of him, ears going flat and staying that way. Theo steps back, shakes his head at McKane who goes to soothe her with words.

"Part wolf, part coyote. It's not her fault it's freaking her out." 

McKane tilts his head to one side, a bit, says, "Let's sit down." 

It's not a command. Theo still follows it as though it is. He sits with his legs crossed on the carpet, hands in his lap, making great effort to predict where this is going. Bayley's ears remain pinned to her skull, wiggling in McKane's arms.

"You're just stressing her out." Theo murmurs, avoiding making eye contact with Bayley to not have her think he's more of a threat than she already perceives him as. 

McKane raises his brows, blinks slowly. "Excuse me, did you raise this vagabond? I don't fuckin' think so."

Theo lets out a sharp breath through his nose, watching as McKane sets Bayley in his lap, a big hand stroking her back. Her ears perk up again, once she's free to do as she pleases, and her eyes zigzag between Theo and McKane. She takes a tentative step forward, sniffing the air. Then another. She sits on the carpet halfway through, to tilt her head this way and that, proceeds to advance. Once near Theo the first thing she does is to poke him with a paw, and again after that, then to sniff at his stiff fingers, her wet nose almost causing him to flinch away. The tension accumulates in his shoulders from how still he's forcing himself to sit. 

Bayley yips at him, carefully bites at the knuckle of his index finger, yanks herself back a bit. When Theo doesn't react her muscles loosen some more. 

Theo raises his gaze to McKane, who's been observing with a fond face. He tentatively reaches out with a hand, oh so slow, and doesn't touch her. If she wants contact she'll initiate it. 

The wolf and coyote are puzzled. It's not their first time seeing a fox, but it's the first time they're supposed to be careful and non-threatening to it. Typically, they just growl to keep it away. This is beyond weird and confusing to them, just as much as it is to Theo. Small, vulnerable creatures are better off with him far away—he's never hurt animals, not until he'd had only a truck as his home and had to resort to different methods of sustenance on the days where he'd been starving for over forty hours in a row. Not to say he doesn't get the urge to pet them and give them belly rubs. It's just that the stark innocence they hold makes his stomach hurt. 

Bayley butts her head into his palm, shattering his thought process. She also climbs atop his lap, does an awkward circle and flops over his legs, neck bent at a bit of an odd angle as she rests her lower jaw onto his belly and tips her head up to blink her amber eyes at him.  

Theo stares back with his own wide eyes, swallows, and rests his hands on her silky coat. 

McKane's low voice almost startles him, "It's not because you're a chimera. It's because you can do a full shift." he explains, having leaned forward to press one elbow to his thigh and put his chin on his palm, his other arm loose over his other leg. "Animals sense it the best and it weirds them out until they have the chance to investigate. That and she sensed your prickly unease, whereas the Hale kid had none."

Bayley melts into his arms when Theo scoops her up in his arms, movement languid and unobstructed lest she doesn't want to. She boops his nose with hers and Theo can't stop the smile creeping up on him. She chews at the string of his hoodie, spits it out to settle her head on his shoulder, her furry ear tickling his cheek. 

"Okay." McKane does a solemn nod. "You passed the test." 

Theo's brows pinch. 

Surprisingly, he does get an elaboration: "If she likes you it's all good. She's never been fond of assholes."

The retort is automatic, still a bit of a fuck up he can't swallow back, "Even if one raised her?" 

McKane bellows out a laugh, thankfully doesn't take his slip as back talking. 

"Now let's get to business. If Morticia Addams didn't want us to talk logistics, why am I here?" he's back to the serious persona in the flick of an eye, making Theo stiffen up, then forcefully loosening his body to not startle Bayley. 

"She's bribing me to go see a therapist." he says it like a joke, albeit the bitter tint to his tone. 

McKane knows of his involvement with the Doctors, has a pretty good grasp of it actually, and Theo hopes that seeing as he's a man with military training he'll get the need to keep your mouth shut about the demons plaguing you day in and day out. Therapy might be good for some, but for people like them? It's more like enduring torture. And look, he's not even aiming for histrionics. It's just a principle, same as how the sky is blue or how Liam will whine for pancakes on Saturday morning. Theo won't be caught dead saying a word of his life to a stranger with a detached face that'll look at him like he's a rare specimen of a bug. He'd rather bury himself with research papers until his eyes bleed out of their eye sockets, cram more newfound resources and use them on himself, than to pay somebody to do it for him. Not the healthiest approach, still better than adding another person to the mix. If he's survived a decade of it then it can't be that flawed of a plan.

"Do you want to go see a therapist?" McKane utters it like one would while speaking to a child. 

"Not in the fucking slightest."

"Problem solved then." McKane is saying it to get a reaction, as most of his actions are. The day at the summit with Liam, when he'd pushed the right buttons to gauge their involvement and toughness, is one example. "So what's with the long face?"

Theo aims his eyes down at Bayley, to her fiery coat, fingers unconsciously going up and down in soothing motions. She's almost asleep. This little creature trust him enough to nearly fall asleep in his homicidal hands. 

The thought does something to him, slams into him with an icy wave down his spine. It's so unexpected that he needs to let a few beats worth of time pass, to swallow down the nausea, before he can act.

Bayley yips when he starts getting to his knees, even though he's painstakingly careful not to jostle her. His legs are with a mind of their own, taking the few steps to McKane, and he delicately places her into his already outstretched arms. 

"Kid—" McKane starts, hurried, but Theo shakes his head a bit too sharply. He turns around just as his fingers get overtaken by tremors. 

Fuck's sake, he's not in a theater to warrant this type of reaction. It's the tell-tale sign of an impending de-realization episode. What for, dammit? He wasn't even stirring memories this time. Is he seriously this far down the lane? 

He's lost a little time, having rounded the corner leading to the sliding doors of the patio, already sans a sweatshirt and jeans, subconsciousness doing the thinking for him. 

He hears Lucia and Derek through a tunnel, their raised voices yelling the words in unison:

"Don't let him shift!"

Oh. Yeah. He wasn't supposed to shift. 

It's his last human thought before his skin changes. 

He noses the sliding doors open, sprints to the middle of the field in front of the house, only to drop on his belly and pant in the cold winter air. Footsteps follow him out, his fur prickling before he remembers, they're not chasing him like predators. 

He's dumbfounded when Bayley reaches him first, freezing in place when their eyes meet, his own flared up until the point where he turns his head away to twist into a ball of fur, facing away from everybody. He hears her timid steps and multiple voices causing a ruckus, the loudest by far being the short emissary who's currently aiming his ire at his alpha. 

"Which part of don't fuck with the kid who just got out of a coma and a heavy dissociative episode, then up and fucking died three times, did you not comprehend?" he's screeching for the whole forest to hear and then some. 

Theo's ears go flat, tail covering his snout. He coils tighter at Bayley's inquisitive sounds, and even tighter when she bumps her nose to his forehead. The air gets lodged into his throat when she huffs and proceeds to also curl into a comfortable ball next to him, rests her small head atop his ribs. 

The yelling match halts. 

Theo doesn't move. Nor does Bayley.

McKane is the first to talk, voice terse. "Bayley." it's measured, him asking her to come back to him and stay away from the crazed shifter wolf that is more than two times her size. 

The wolf, now on the literal surface, urges Theo to loosen his muscles. Its lack of reaction is stupefying. Canines form attachments way faster than most animals, but this truly is a big neon question mark in Theo's head. The wolf has no ill intent, nor does it see Bayley as a target. It just wants to… accommodate. To be complacent.

It wants—it wants a friend.

The revelation causes his lungs to seize, the breath coming out like it's been kicked out of him, eyes stinging even in this form and he's just scarcely able to withhold the high, lupine whine. 

It just wants a friend. 

Lucia comes to them, addressing Bayley first, scratching under her chin. "Hey, girl." the backs of tentative fingers also go over his skull, between his ears, their pressure more heartfelt when he doesn't flinch away. "Theo, you with us?" 

Theo blinks his eyes open, still flared, to look up at her and chuffs, air coming out misty from the cold. 

"Good." Lucia sighs, loaded with relief. "Let's keep it that way." 

Derek ventures over to them next, sitting down next to Theo in overly prolonged movements, to keep himself predictable. His touch to Theo's side is a surprise, Theo's muscles jumping from it. Derek watches his own arm, apparently seeking to leach nonexistent pain. He keeps his hand there regardless, mouth a thin line. 

"He has to shift back." 

"Don't I know it." Lucia keeps petting Bayley, along with her fingers on Theo's head as an anchor point, turns to the rest. "Go back inside. And you, stop worrying. He's fine."

"Fine, my ass." Theo hears Danny grouch. Somebody gets smacked, though something tells Theo it was also Danny who did the smacking. 

"Hey, uh. You want me to start on some soup?" it's one of Lucia's betas chiming in. Antonio, with his newly found passion for cooking.

Monica answers in Lucia's stead. "That's a good idea.", and pulls him away. "Let's give them some space."

Just as a few minutes of quiet pass Derek's phone starts ringing, followed by a hissed out shit.

"It's Scott." he confirms, denies the call to type something out. "Told him I'll call him back later. Let's just hope that Liam isn't with him." 

Because if he is, he won't react like an adult and wait for Derek to reach out later. He'll want answers now. Since they have no luck whatsoever, Derek's phone starts vibrating within the minute. Derek declines it. It starts vibrating again. Derek declines. On the third time he picks up.

"Not now, I'll—"

"Where is he?" the sudden oscillation elicits an instant reaction from Bayley, one Theo neuters by lifting his head and nosing at her head to calm her. 

"I'll call Scott later." this time, Derek must have also turned off the vibration before putting the phone on the ground. When Liam's name takes over the screen it's silent. It goes blank after twenty seconds, only to light back up with a message from Scott, stating I got it. 

Derek catches Theo's eye, with a wry sort of amusement.

"Sometimes I think he only really listens to you."

That's the problem. Liam should most definitely not be listening to Theo. 

*

He shifts back at some point, after Bayley takes her little nap on her new furry pillow. She nudges just under Theo's eyes before she hops back on her paws and runs to McKane's arms, who has been standing on the porch the whole time.

Theo doesn't even let him get a word in when he approaches him after he's put his clothes on.

"You didn't do anything to trigger me, it's fine."

McKane's hazel eyes turn burgundy for a fraction of a second. He closes them and when they blink open they're back to their human shade. 

"I pushed. You reacted." it's remorseful, self-berating.

"No, you talked and I went back into my head." Theo corrects while pulling the strings of his hoodie tighter, to have more cloth around his neck. Damn is it cold.

"Same difference, kid. I stepped out of line." he rubs a hand over his face, his other one poised at his hip. Theo wonders if he got that from Danny. "I'm sorry. They warned me and I still did it."

Okay, so he won't take Theo's no harm done approach. Fine. Nodding along it is.

Only it doesn't work.

McKane takes him to Lucia's study room, after going through Lucia with the idea, utilizing Danny's momentary involvement in the kitchen with Antonio. Theo is getting incessantly tired of this shit. He shouldn't have agreed to it. Right now he could be helping Lucia make those divine coconut muffins; instead he went out on a limb and got bit in the ass for it. 

"Stop repressing them."

McKane has sat down on a leather chair, Theo opposite of him. When Theo's body moves in an automatic spasm the leather creaks along with him.

"The emotions. You're already liable to episodes out of your control, but complete repression will worsen the fallout to an extent where even the smallest input of a memory holding weight to you will trigger them." that has Theo's full attention, if not really in a good way. "Then one day you'll shift and won't turn back. One day—" McKane's gaze grows even heavier, tangible with personal knowledge to the statement. "One day you'll lose your humanity and neither spell, nor enchantment will be able to bring you back."

It's also automatic when Theo feels the urge to negate the little monologue with a bitter laugh. "You seriously underestimate how much I can bottle my shit up." 

McKane smiles, and it's bittersweet. "I don't. Which is why I know the outcome. I lived through it."

Back the fuck up. He's been in the military since, what? Age eighteen? An elite Navy SEAL with practically little to no down time between missions. At least that's what Theo has read on paper. When did he have the time for a forced supernatural sabbatical?

"How long?" Theo finally finds himself asking, trepidation running through his nervous system. 

McKane looks to his left, knuckles of the hand on the armrest going bone white from his grip. Theo swears that his eyes, when they shift up to catch his, hold an electric spark in them. 

"Five years." 

As long as Bree, then. 

"And how'd you turn back?"

McKane tips his head to one side, quickly glancing at the door, where his emissary is but a few rooms away. "Danny found me." and back to Theo. "On the second year. He never gave up on me ever since. And he never once let me run away from it."

That's little to no information. So what? Emotional attachment? Comradeship? Love? Theo can't work with that.

He lets out an angry breath, gritting his teeth together for a few seconds to stave off the itch in his gums.

"Can you cut to the cause? 'Cause I'm real fucking tired of all the half-assed bites you and Lucia keep handing me, in the hopes that I piece it together instead of actually telling me the full picture in the first place." 

Deranged. 

He's officially deranged. Demanding and standing up to an alpha as powerful as McKane. Lucia is another story, her case is a bit more complicated with whatever attachments she has to him, as well as their history. This man has none of that for him. 

But McKane doesn't react. His eyes remain the same, so do his scent and pulse, having stayed an unchanged line since they sat down. 

A minute passes.

Two.

Three.

He doesn't talk and Theo keeps his tongue behind his teeth.

It takes him a couple more seconds to get to the conclusion that McKane is letting him get his cool back, handing him time to flush the anger out at his own pace. 

When Theo is back to his normally irritated status-quo McKane continues, "He talked me through every single trauma he knew I had and made me face it."

Not quite what Theo expected. 

"Showed me that every fear I'd buried is due to a memory, or memories, I refused to get through because of how much it hurt to go back there and relive it anew, with no certainty that it'll be worth the pain. Since I thought, I'd rather let it radiate its poison so long as I don't have to look at it again. And then he actually sent me to a capable supernatural therapist, when I'd had time to adjust."

Love and friendship, got it. Nothing Theo has. He can count Bree in; still, that's without her knowing the full tale of his stay with the Doctors. When she pulls her head out of her ass and lets her curiosity take reign she won't be able to even stomach the idea of looking at him, much less being his pseudo therapist. Alec? Misguided, with imprinting issues. Liam? Also misguided, with anchor issues. With this quick math he's left with nobody. Well, good luck to him. 

McKane snaps his fingers, having leaned forward in his chair to do the motion closer to Theo's face, pulling him back to Lucia's study. "You're doing it again."

"What?"

"At a risk to further abuse an abused cliché: being your own worst enemy."

McKane has taken grasp of Theo's outright refusal to hear what he's saying, doesn't venture further.

Theo's phone rings, incessantly buzzing against his thigh. It's Liam. Nobody else is this bullheaded.

Just as he's about to turn it off McKane gets up from his seat. "I'd answer if I were you, seems important." are his parting words. The door closes with a soft click of the mechanism. 

Theo stares down at the screen, gripping onto the phone. His thumb swipes the green button. 

Liam's voice booms through. "What the hell is going on?"

"If you're calling to piss me off more than I already am, save it."

"Piss you o—we were worried, you complete and utter asshole!" Theo swings the phone away from his ear as the sentence progresses, the notes going higher along with it. "Scott calls Derek? Gets declined. Receives a cryptic 'call you later', then Derek proceeds to decline my calls, too, and tells me the same crap while sounding like he's swallowed bricks. After that it's Amadio who updates us, instead of either one of you two, and you the have the fucking audacity to act like nothing's wrong?"

He shouldn't have put the phone to his ear in the first place. 

"Nothing happened, stop—"

A slam of a door sounds from the other line. "If you tell me to stop blowing things out of proportion, I swear to god I'm gonna punch your lights out when you come back."

Theo sighs, smooths his free fingers around the bridge of his nose and tips his head back into the leather. "I freaked out over nothing and shifted. You happy now?"

"You shifted." Liam breathes out, in incomprehension. Theo moves the phone away from his ear before he screeches, "You shifted?!" 

He'd been irritated before this, is starting to quickly move on to worried when Liam's breathing does the opposite of calming even the tiniest bit down. 

He remembers, Liam's chalk white face when he saw Theo shifted after New Years, his mental refuge and the scorching fire in his voice when he'd shot down every attempt Theo made to convince him that he absolutely can not let anybody else take care of the theaters. 

He remembers, "You stopped breathing."

Then, "Three times. Once in front of Alec."

And, 

"That's why you freaked out when you saw my wolf form just now?"

“Thought you were gone again.”

Shit.

"Liam, listen to me. I never lost consciousness. I came back on my own, but the animals were never in control. Do you understand?"

Liam's retort is high and breathy, "Yeah, like you haven't lied about it before."

"I'm fi—" Theo backtracks, stops mid sentence. Wrong wording. "I'm… okay. Right now, I'm okay. Okay?"

The harsh breath Liam lets flow out of his lungs makes the connection go static-y. "You're not lying?" 

Theo is quick to confirm, "I'm not." for once he hopes his heart beat is audible through the line, that Liam believes him. 

"Okay." another long breath, and a more quiet, "Okay."

He doesn't know what to say. But he should have said something. When Liam goes to end the conversation he sounds like he's most definitely not taking this.

"I gotta go." he whispers, voice frail, and he hangs up. 

Theo stops himself from chucking the phone at the wall, presses the side of it to his chin, eyes slipping closed.

"Fuck." 

*

Bayley is waiting for him at the door when he comes out of Lucia's study, maybe fifteen minutes after the call with Liam. Her tail wags with the speed of light, emitting high noises of delight and jumps on him. 

Theo pockets the phone, picks her up and lets her lick his cheeks and chin, once more unable to stop himself from smiling at her unrestrained enthusiasm. Why she's taken a liking to him will remain a mystery he can roll with. 

His fingers have sunk into her soft fur, have practically drowned in silky softness. An abrupt tsunami of emotions slams into him at the feeling. His throat closes up, eyes stinging with salt. 

McKane's words echo in his head, like he's hearing them through a megaphone. 

"He never once let me run away from it."

Again and again and again, until Theo slides down the wall with Bayley in one arm, the other reaching to his back pocket for his phone. Bayley makes a tiny distressed noise and he places the back of the same hand to her head, knuckles going up and down, up and down.

"Shhhh, I'm okay. I'm okay." he keeps repeating, eyes starting to spill.

Everybody else is on the other side of the house. Of course McKane chose a spot far away enough for him to have a potential repeater of an hour ago in peace. 

"I'm okay." he murmurs into her fur, more to convince himself than anything, clamps down on his signals so that she doesn't get overwhelmed. "You're okay, Raeken. You're goddamn okay, so act like it."

The phone burns his palm, with the knowledge that certain people are a call away, all he has to do is unlock it and dial them. 

"You're okay." 

Bayley licks his tears away, curls into him with a whine. He adjusts her until she's formed a comfortable ball, with her face nearly all the way buried in her tail, until she stretches her paws and melts into him shortly after.

See, Tara took in a stray once. Mid-sized, fluffy. They decided to call her Roxy, he thinks Scott's dog shared the name, can't quite remember if they named them together or if it was a coincidence. She was such a lovable and loyal dog that even their parents couldn't say no to the furball of sunshine. She stayed with them for six months, enough to become a part of the family and brighten Theo's life. Then one day she just didn't wake up. They'd sneaked her ham under the table, took her out for a walk, hugged her goodnight. Nothing was amiss. But she just didn't wake up. She didn't wake up. Not when he begged her to, not when Tara did, not when their parents took her away. The vet couldn't give an explanation other than already existing health conditions she might have had, missed during the vaccination process and examinations, that had just progressed too fast.

And it crushed them, him and Tara. He vowed to himself he'll never take another pet, ever, if he has to go through the pain of the loss every time, if it always hurts so much. Be it from her death or not, his heart condition took a hell of a downfall the following week, triggering the worst of his experiences with that useless thing then in his chest, after he'd spent hurting and hurting and hurting. He never really got over it. 

The same hurt he'd felt the first time Bayley curled in his arms, he realizes. Roxy used to be the same size, with a brown coat that in just the right light would create the illusion of fiery red. The same hurt pulling at his seams now.

Theo shifts his hand holding the phone to unlock it and goes to his call history, thumb hovering over the last name. His brows scrunch up in a miserable expression, lips pressed together to obstruct his chin from wobbling with the pitiful sob that wants to crawl out of his throat.

What the fuck is he even going to tell him? I remembered a pet I had eons before I became a monster and am drowning in the sorrow of her passing like it was just mere hours ago? Yeah, right. 

Theo squeezes his eyes closed, which has more salt spill down his cheeks in angry rivets, opens them to try and find a bright light source to trick his mind into forcing the tears away.

When his screen starts to dim a bit, indicating it'll go dark in a few seconds, it goes proton star-bright with Liam's name smack in the middle of it. He picks up on reflex, unintentionally, eyes unseeing as he brings it to his ear.

"That was fast. Way too fast. Whatever, point is I have blackmail on you and the next time you piss me off everybody is gonna see you cuddling a cute fox, got it?"

Theo's brain operates in the background regardless of his current state, supplying that Lucia or McKane got by his wonky senses, took an incriminating photo moments before his briefly good mood went to literal shit and sent it to Scott, who sent it to Liam. In reality, all he can do is curse his inability to keep in the just as incriminating wet and rocky sigh that's all too telling as to what he's been doing the past fifteen minutes. 

"Theo?"

He's also unable to hold in the following sigh holding identical characteristics to the previous one. 

Fuck.

He pulls the phone away, is about to hang up, when:

"Were you about to call me, just now?" 

Why does Liam choose moments like these to be perceptive and prove that his wit can be just as razor sharp as his tongue?

Theo swallows, needs three attempts to actually manage it and lifts the phone back up to his ear. At least Bayley has started snoozing, head over Tara's heart.

"Or, I mean, somebo—"

"Yeah." he gives, voice scratchy as fuck, and if Liam wasn't a supernatural he might not have been able to catch him saying it.

His head is full of cotton, a sure numbness taking away the burn of the excess emotions, a fail-safe of his own making. 

"Oh." Liam breathes out, shocked that Theo legitimately admitted it with barely any prompt. He doesn't ask him if he's okay, doesn't seek answers to his undoubtedly piling questions. Instead: "There's, uh, mom got some new fancy tea you'll probably like. It's chamomile, peppermint and lemon balm. There's probably more, but hell if I'm remembering all of it. I wanna say it's bad, but it's actually kinda nice? Usually not a big fan of mixing tea flavors, don't see the point when I don't want to experiment and get scarred by nasty tea of all things."

Liam keeps talking about nothing in particular while going about his house, stops to answer Jenna and David a couple of times, asks Jenna what else the tea is made of and parrots the newfound ingredients back to Theo like they're top priority information.

Is Theo finding this endearing? Fuck, he's finding it endearing. Miracle of all miracles, it's working. Listening to Liam talk has warded the numbness away, has staved off the avalanche of ache in his chest and his pulse is steady and he's no longer cold to his bone marrow. 

After another monologue about the scents of recently purchased detergents Liam finally asks, "Okay?"

Theo tips his chin down, rests it on Bayley's head. "Yeah." 

Liam swallows, voice airy. "Okay." at least it's not only Theo in new waters.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Whatsoever." 

He catches Derek's scent. A knock on a wall a corridor away sounds, to state his presence in case Theo didn't sense him another way, and he emerges around the corner moments later. There's no way he can't see the dried salt on Theo's face, or smell it for that matter, has most likely heard at least some portion of his phone call with Liam. 

He crouches next to Theo, quiet so as to not wake up Bayley, reaches for the phone and stops. He only takes it after Theo nods. 

"I've got him. And he really needs to get up because I bribed Lucia to not pick him up herself." 

Liam emits a high-pitched noise, hurries to cover it up with his reply. "Hi, Derek. Yeah. Sure, I'll uh—I'll go help mom and dad with dinner."

Derek hangs up, slips the phone in his back pocket and places an arm under one of Theo's, the one supporting Bayley, to maneuver her into his own arms. They manage to pull it off without her waking up. Theo needs the wall as a crutch to get himself back on his feet. 

"I know it's hard to accept help." Derek mutters, stroking Bayley's spine. "Believe me, I do. But sometimes it pays out."

Green on green. Derek puts Bayley's weight on one arm, slowly freeing the other one. He hesitates when he reaches out, puts his warm palm on Theo's upper arm and squeezes, lets him go. 

He hands Theo his phone back. "I wasn't joking about Lucia. I can stall her a little longer if you need to go to the bathroom." 

Theo sighs, eyelids drooping with exhaustion. "Yeah, not a bad idea." 

They separate at the edge of the corridor, go in opposite directions. Theo cleans his face with cold water, the superhuman healing already having taken care of the puffiness and his bloodshot eyes. He's in the emotional collapse phase where all he needs is to lock himself in a room and be left alone. Not really an option currently. 

Theo slithers back to the populated areas of the house, hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. He's this close to pulling the hood over his head, discards the idea as it'll be a bit too much even for his broody self. 

Danny spots him faster than Lucia does, waving his hand in a come here motion while also giving McKane a get out of eyesight shoo with the opposite one. Theo stands flabbergasted when McKane does just that, picking a sleeping Bayley out of Derek's arms, swaying her some when she stirs.

"Don't worry, kiddo, you don't have to talk. But this here is for you." Danny places a mug of hot chocolate in front of him, barely making a sound when he sets it on the marble island. "I know food is probably the last thing on your mind, but I've learned from idiotic mistakes of certain idiotic people," a pointed glance at McKane who scoffs from the other side of the room. "That sustenance is key for a better mental health. And hot chocolate does wonders with that. Done with the Ted talk, you can stay or go do your own thing. I won't get in your way."

Theo takes the mug with a quiet thanks, curls both palms over the hot ceramic. Just as he's about to take a sip, Lucia fucking teleports out of nowhere to pull the hood over his head, pats his head over the cotton. 

"Danny makes a killer hot choco, dig in." he glances her over the corner of the hood. Her gaze is soft, kind. After all, she's been a supernatural for longer, can read him to a terrifying degree and is well accustomed to the need to hide a little after such an emotional toll.

Theo spares her a small and overly thankful smile, or with as much of one that his mouth can pull into, which she returns with her own understanding one. 

True to Danny's words, he doesn't step into the conversation and gets to his pot of soup. Antonio barges into the space with a groan, points at him. 

"Stop fucking stirrin' the damn thing!" 

Danny does a spot on impression, waves a middle finger over his shoulder, having not even turned around to deem Antonio the time of his day. 

"How'd it go?" Lucia sits down on a bar stool next to Theo, the question nearly indiscernible between the numerous conversations currently being held, and especially with Danny and Antonio's bickering, which is progressively getting louder. 

He just can't deduce whether the ruckus is for his benefit, a veil over him and Lucia to deter any snoopy ears.

Theo stares down at his hot chocolate, finally takes a sip. It is, admittedly, heaven in liquid form. "Okay, I guess. He gave me a basis. Doesn't mean it'll work for me. I don't have what he has."

"Which is?"

He shifts his head to give her a deadpan blink, shifts some on the bar stool so that his eyes can zig-zag between her pack members and turns back around. 

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Lucia clicks her tongue, applies pressure between her brows with the knuckle of her thumb. "You can't be this blind. You're too smart to be this stupid."

Theo lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "I'm not with them. They just need me for the time being, is all." 

"Fine." Lucia leans on her elbows, a smidge closer to him, to lower her voice in case somebody like Derek might be listening in despite Danny and Antonio's cover. "Let's pretend that's not bullshit. The Feng family have practically opened all their doors for you, after Brenna's back. You can stay here, too, if you want. It's not a one-way street. I don't get why you make it out to be."

"Why'd you think it was a one-way street? Back then?" the back then he's alluding to is the feral months of blood lust. She gets it on the spot, facial muscles pulling tight. "Because you didn't have proof of another alternative."

Lucia takes a deep breath, let out in a shaky exhale. "You don't trust it."

You don't trust us, she means. Her and hers, Scott and his, Bree. And it's not that he doesn't trust them, because he does. In a fight he knows where they stand, can give them his back no thoughts warranted.

She hops onto his train of thought, it seems, sews together the tells and omissions in his phrasing, corrects herself to: "You don't trust us with you."

With Theo outside of apocalyptic scenarios where it's not them against something else and it's back to them against Theo.

No. He doesn't. Everybody leaves. That's just the standard rhythm of his life. People come and go, some stay for a little longer than others, but ultimately they leave. Always. Theo is a thing beyond its expiration date, useful only in forging plans interwoven with logic and cunning, a weapon that gathers rust if not used, and what's a rusty, creaky thing beneficial with? Not much. That and he's a lot to manage on good days, a vile taste in their mouths on the bad ones. Maybe if he tattooed his hands red they'll understand how he sees things. As it is, only one person stayed, if he doesn't count Bree. And how did he repay Tara for the effort? That part doesn't need elaboration.

Lucia pulls him to the side, along with his mug. She tips her chin up in command to one of her own, Tori with the crystal necklaces jangling on every move, to cast what he later finds out is a silencing charm around Lucia's selected spot. 

"And what about Liam?" she inquires after they've sat on the carpet, near a corner of the living room area. 

Oh, hell no.

"What about him?"

Lucia harrumphs, looks him up and down, raises her brows. "Seriously?"

Theo takes a gulp of the hot chocolate. "Deadass."

"You don't trust him with you."

"He has internal problems causing him to hyper-fixate." anchors, the IED, his physical attraction to Theo and the prevalent naivety of his worldview. He'll leave, too, once he's figured himself out. "The moment Monroe is out of the picture he'll address it, go to college and find new hyper-fixations that won't kill him."

"Brenna?"

"Misguided emotional attachment due to childhood memories holding more power in decision-making, that can all be easily taken care of when she finds out the truth about me."

"Alec?" 

Theo doesn't like where this is going.

"Imprinting, will go away on its own."

Here Lucia bares her teeth in a predatory grin. She's entertaining him, waiting for him to give her the weapons she can aim back at him. He already knows what she'll ask.

"If everybody is seemingly mingling with you out of some personal benefit, miscalculation or emotional compromisation, then what can you tell me about the person sitting next to you, then? What's my benefit, that seemingly makes me keep you," she makes exaggerated air quotes around the last part, in a jibe that gets on his nerves. "And, I don't know, tolerate your dumb ass? Do I invite you over to take a breather from Scott and his band of overly positive misfits to gain favor in case you decide to go double agent?"

"The hunt for Monroe."

Lucia brings a hand to the back of her head, stops mid motion to rub at her mouth with an index finger, thinking his answers through. 

"So you think you're allowed to walk freely because we have more upper hand with your mind on the battlefield with us and that we'll discard you the moment it's done with?"

Theo doesn't answer, because that's not quite it. Some, but not the bigger fragment. He skims over the groups of people trying not to stare at the two of them in their corner, catches Derek's frown, quickly zags away from it. 

"You think you don't deserve it." she says to herself with a finality, a cognizance. "That we'll see what you see and one day kick you out for it."

There in the morning, gone in the evening, as it's always been.

"Why shouldn't I?"

Theo raises his mug in a salute, to down the rest of the (not so anymore) hot chocolate in one go. They sit there in silence, ironic considering why they isolated themselves. Lucia doesn't say anything else. It goes on for half an hour before Yao Feng texts him a bulk of carefully constructed text and perfect pictures of files. Translations of texts, Theo surmises. Then down the drain the personal dilemmas go, making way for the hunt. 

Brenna, but of course, managed to get her grubby hands on some of the files containing compiled magical evidence from multiple crime scenes and narrowed it to a handful of incantations. Some of them reach terrifying levels of power needed to conduct them, others seem too easy to possess such magnitude and efficiency. 

"Okay, let's just slow down for a second." Danny raises both hands in front of himself, drags them over his slicked back hair in frustration. "Didn't you say she's human? With no magical traces to her? No spark? Then how is she managing this?"

This pertains to the grotesque images currently displayed to the TV connected to Lucia's laptop. It's the murder scenes of the most bizarre cases, the scant data they have to compare. 

"She doesn't need to be the one with magic. If she's taken prisoners it's an easy feat." Theo supplies, having been grounded to sitting on the couch when his pacing got on Lucia's nerves. 

"Fact. But those specific incantations need the willingness of the individual." Lucia taps a manicured finger to her glass of whiskey on the rocks. "You can't bypass it by forcing their hands, placing ultimatums, or even mind control."

That's where the blood-curdling idea has their hackles raised. If Monroe is brainwashing humans, that's manageable. But covens? That willingly supply her with any sort of magic her twisted ideas require and point her in direction of ingredients she might need to engineer her own weapon? 

That's the last thing they needed. Seems like it's their new reality.

*

Which brings Theo back to brainstorming mode. He lets Derek do the communication with his pack, texts Alec a short notice for his upcoming ghosting. Liam will learn it from either him or Derek. 

He stays with Lucia for the time being. Her house has many attributes, such as multiple places he can hole himself into without the prospect of anybody barging in. Bayley is a nice side effect, what with McKane and Danny having opted to accept Lucia's extended invitation. She didn't even ask Theo, took one look at him and ended up calling Scott in his stead once he'd swallowed his pride to voicelessly plead her to do so. That was until Scott's inability to stop himself from calling him shortly after, then negotiating himself and Malia into the deal. 

He should have reckoned Liam would manage to weasel in on it. Meaning Theo is saddled with sharing a room with him. 

Bye bye, peace. The circus just wants to keep on spinning him dry. 

Mind you, he finds out whilst having a friendly spar with McKane of all times. Friendly for them, apparently heavily lethal to Scott and Co who barge out of Stiles' car just as McKane swipes a clawed hand before doing at least three locks on Theo, then managing to successfully pin him to the ground with a forearm over his throat and a knee under the place where the breast bone ends. 

"Hey!" Liam and Malia bellow, sprinting over to them with Scott behind them. 

Theo and McKane share a look. The enraged duo—since when did Malia get this worked up over Theo's safety—stagger in their run when McKane offers Theo a hand, stop entirely when Theo accepts it, along with the strong pat to his back.

"I'm so not involving myself in this. The stage is yours, kid." and the bastard leaves Theo all alone. 

Scott has finally caught up, dashes between Liam and Malia to pivot on his feet, dangerously close to slipping on the grass, with his arms outstretched.

"We talked about this! We're not in Beacon Hills." he hiss-whispers, eyes manically slanting to the left, to McKane's retreating figure.

Liam doesn't even look at him, mutinous glare aimed at Theo, sidesteps Scott and evades the hand that tries to snag him back. He crashes into Theo, pushes him back with both palms to Theo's chest to make him lose his footing, then again, and ultimately takes a hold of Theo's dirty shirt to pull him closer, fists bunching the material tight to Theo's skin.

"What the fuck was that?" is the hissed out outburst.

Theo slaps the offending limbs away. "A friendly spar."

Malia scoffs, voice rising. "Friendly?"

"Believe it or don't. Ask Lucia if you're that doubtful." he turns, heading towards the house.

Liam doesn't let him go far, trailing him with loud steps in the cold ground. "Oh, yeah, Amadio who snagged you in the first place and managed to trigger you into another episode?" 

Theo swivels on his feet, fangs having elongated. "What's the matter with you?" 

Liam stops, they all do. His expression blows open, caught that whatever is causing this isn't just him witnessing a benign fight for training purposes. 

"I don't know what the everliving fuck is going on, but if you think for a single second this is some sort of sleepover or detainee ground-control, you better fucking turn around, now. I'm not gonna sit here, trying to figure out what that psycho's next move is while you react to every little thing I do, all to try and ignore whatever problems you have going, you hear me?" 

He's gone and recreated a Danny explosion, but his holds more pull when he rarely permits himself to get to this point. The three of them stare with shocked mugs, startled by the reverberation of his words. 

Theo pushes the air out of his lungs and turns back around, almost breaking the sliding doors. Lucia throws him a knowing smirk, amused if anything. 

When he gets out of the shower most of Lucia's pack has fled the scene, not voluntarily. He's still so angry that he's failing to shake it off, sits on his bed with his back to the headboard, eyes closed. He shouldn't have blown up. Liam is pissed at the prospect that Theo has been pushing himself after the fuck up two days ago, showing it through anger. One emotion at a time, Theo had told him back then. What is Liam afraid of, even?

Speaking of the devil, Liam's scent emerges from behind the closed door. He doesn't knock, doesn't enter or state his presence. He takes a few steps back, returns, goes further the second time he tries to leave, returns to his initial standpoint again. Theo's phone screen lights up with a message from Lucia, confirming what he'd thought had probably occurred while he was away with a he apologized, cut the kid some slack. 

Theo blinks, shakes his head to let it fall back against the headboard. "You gonna stand there until you calcify, or?"

Liam's pulse jumps some, breath catching. 

The door slowly opens to reveal a remorseful Liam, gaze downcast, head also tilted down. The hand holding the strap of the duffel bag over his shoulder is shaking with the force he's clutching it with. He opens his mouth; no words come out. He then hangs his head lower with his eyes closed tight for a beat, lifts it enough so that when he opens them he can catch Theo's, chest expanding with his inhale.

"I'm sorry." he admits, his hold on the duffel bag strap tightening. "I was an asshole."

"She said you apologized." 

Liam squints for half a second and his facial muscles loosen, expression going blank. "That's—" he tries to verbalize, halts. "The apology here, now, is to you. Not to Amadio." he enunciates it, the intensity of it baffling to Theo. "I was an asshole to you, too." 

Theo nods without getting the meaning. Liam is always an asshole to him, the majority of the time. He blew up, so what? It's their—their thing. The one stability of their whatever-ship. 

Liam groans, throws his head back and closes the door behind him. "You're not even getting it." 

"Getting what?"

"I'm not saying it just to say it."

Theo blinks, more likely than not pulling one of McKane's constipated faces. "Oh—kay?"

Liam makes a barely there squeaky noise of irritation, throws a hand in Theo's direction. "See, you're not getting it!"

"Getting what, Liam?"

"You—!" Liam deposits the duffel bag on the floor in front of the bed designated for him, hunching with both hands splayed in the air, his fingers halfway clenched.

Theo stares, nonplussed, crosses his ankles and waves a hand in confusion. "I don't even think you know what you mean."

Liam gives him a louder groan, landing face first on his bed. 

This, he can work with. Not exactly back to how they usually communicate, but the amusement has mollified their nerves. Liam shifts his head, so that one blue eye can peek up at Theo. He seems to be on the same boat - confused, but not willing to sacrifice this middle ground of accidental comedy to clear the air up.

"You might be right." Liam's tired admission is muffled with half of his face in the cover. "I have no idea how to put what's in here," he points at his temple, hand falling back on the mattress afterwards. "Into words with meaning."

Theo lets a sharp breath through his nose, "I know the feeling."

And they both fall asleep just like that, so drained that they don't move to more comfortable positions. Malia wakes them up an hour later with a knock to the door. 

"Dinner's ready." she barges in, sees how groggy they are and repeats herself. Liam has managed to get up on his elbows, unable to keep his eyes from staying open for too long and Theo isn't doing better. "Go help Scott." she tells Liam, holds the door open.

Theo speaks before Liam can have time to react. "Go." 

Blue on green, Liam's brows pull together, as do his lips. He gets on his feet with a glance at Malia and last one at Theo, slips past her on slow legs, deliberately stalling himself in the hopes of hearing something. 

Malia leans on the door frame, hands in her loose sweatpants, but then she crosses her arms in a few seconds. Theo has a good idea as to where this is going, and yet has a hard time believing it to be true. 

"I shouldn't have said what I said."

Theo scratches the bridge of his nose, for once unable to pick a proper response. Not because he's at a loss of words. He just can't calculate what will appease her and what will set her off, not with the sleep haze still holding him in a groggy half-awareness. 

He sets on, "Okay." 

"Okay? That's what you're going with?" the muscles of her crossed arms tighten, notable in her visible forearms.

"It's fine, it's… whatever. I guess. Not like it wasn't unfounded." 

Malia growls softly with her following exhale, starts buzzing in place with one foot tapping the wooden floor, frustrated. "You can't just say okay like that." she parrots his pronunciation with a low voice and an annoyed, sharp shake to her head. 

"You should take a class with Liam." he finds himself saying, his mouth too fast to form the words. At her incredulous look he elaborates, "Proper communication 101, so that people can understand what you mean. Because I sure as hell don't even get what you're angry about right now. And I had this," he twirls an index finger in a circle, dropping it back to his ribs after. "Form of mental gymnastics with Liam just a little while ago, where we both came to the conclusion that even he doesn't know what he means."

Malia's frown had disappeared somewhere at the start of Theo's uncharacteristic vocality, has given the stage to disoriented bewilderment. 

Theo clears his throat, crosses one arm over the other on his belly, each hand cupping the opposite set of ribs. 

"Okay." she says, airy. It does nothing to prepare him for the word vomit to ensue. "I'm sorry for what I said, I shouldn't have said it and you shouldn't be fine with it, because Liam has seen the consequences of your stay in the skinwalker prison first hand and if he, who can't keep his mouth shut about any secret and has less tact that me, is unwilling to speak about it, then it was bad bad. And you're not the same Theo we sent there. So I'm sorry." the way she delivers it is like she's reading it, but Theo has seen her in other uncomfortable human situations involving feelings. The choppiness is just a byproduct of it, doesn't speak of its actual legitimacy. 

Theo's—Tara's—heart kinda stops from the earnestness of it. She takes in his dumbfounded face with a nod, doesn't wait for him to say anything this time since, apparently, what she's seeing is satisfying enough. That and she's definitely itching to get herself out of the awkward Scott-esque monologue just as much as Theo is. 

When Theo ventures into the lovely—too fucking loud—dining room it's to the sight of a pleased Scott and Lucia, with Liam and Malia sitting awkwardly on the couch with their plates, still in the throes of their apologies. Theo adopts Liam's meerkat impression. The only free spaces, from all the various sitting arrangements—at the table itself, on either of the two couches, on the loveseats and the floor respectfully—are either between Liam and Malia, or next to McKane and Danny at the table. 

McKane has one forearm parallel to his body on the table with a Cheshire grin from one ear to the other as he cuts his steak, all the while holding eye contact with Theo. He's having fun, the bastard. Lucia isn't even trying to hide her not so subtle efforts to muffle the glee and Derek, next to her on the other couch, gives him a knowing look before returning all his attention to feeding Bayley. The rest of Lucia's pack, and Danny, don't acknowledge in any way that they've sensed his arrival, the conversations continuing their flow without so much as a hitch. And Scott, on the carpet to Malia's right, just raises his eyebrows in a quick, amused move, as if to say really, Theo?, like it's the most natural thing for Theo to come over to them, like it's ridiculous he's even thinking it though. 

With a silent sigh Theo takes the plate Antonio hands him and sits on the cushion between Liam and Malia. It doesn't happen immediately, but their postures relax and when he's halfway through his meal he realizes their thighs are flush with his. He pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. Liam gently taps the side of his knee to Theo's with an inquisitive sound low in his throat. Theo shakes his head, as well as the natural instinct to overthink this entire situation, and takes his bite of roasted potatoes. 

Liam takes his plate when Theo is done, places it, along with his own, on the coffee table to his left. Derek seems to have been holding Bayley back - she does an excited circle around a few groups of people, lunges herself onto Theo's now free lap. Malia pulls her plate to the side a bit, in order to avoid the fluffy tail flying about in unpredictable directions. Bayley squeals, amber eyes squinting in happiness once Theo supports her with one arm and scratches her chin. She playfully bites Liam's fingers that skim over her back, yips at him, too. 

Liam laughs, unguarded and looking more like the teenager he is than Theo has seen him in a long, long time. Bayley mushes her side to Theo's chest, also pushes her head into Liam's palms. Liam sits with his back to the armrest, throws his left leg over Theo's knee, twists the other sideways, to coo at her and cup her cheeks. 

Theo fights tooth and nail to maintain a poker face through it all. If he doesn't make a deal out of it nobody will. He doesn't check to see either Scott or Malia's reactions, nor Lucia, Derek or McKane's. What he does do is lift his free hand with a middle finger and his theory is confirmed when he hears several clicks of phone cameras. 

He shouldn't get used to the warm feeling in his chest, should ignore the contentment of the animals in him, but fucking Christ would it be nice if it does become a normal part of his life.  

*

At night Theo loses some sleep. Even with Liam near him and his eyes closed, he keeps going over rituals and murder scenes. Around four in the morning he outright gives up, slinks out of the room to sit at the kitchen island, observe the little field in front of the house, then moves to sit next to the sliding doors and stares at the constellations.

He'd hoped Liam would stay asleep. He doesn't. His steps are uneven as he gets to the kitchen area, the creases of his pillow stamped to one side of his face. A crinkling noise alerts Theo, Liam has pulled something out of the front pocket in his hoodie—technically Theo's hoodie, he nicked it once he'd come to the conclusion that he'd packed light clothes—jangles it in the air.

"Tea." he supplies. The same tea he talked to Theo about. 

He makes them a cup, Theo having gone to him to inspect the scents. The tea is wrapped in a Christmas themed napkin, most likely Jenna's doing, before Liam had shoved the bulging napkin in a zip-lock bag. Their shoulders bump a few times, while Liam pours some leaves in tea holders he'd dug out of somewhere as Theo picks out all the refreshing scents of the loose tea. 

They pull a few cushions off the couch, sit down next to the sliding doors.

"I knew it." Liam says, when Theo takes his first sip. "You like it."

It's nice, the mixture of flavor just the right amount to not be too strong. He does like it. And it does calm him down, slows his pulse. Theo knocks their ankles together, shifts to look back at the stars.

*

By now it's a known side effect that Theo loses time when severely under the weather or heavily wounded. It's what's happening now. He just knows that he has to run. 

The memories trickle in molasses-slow, taunting in their late arrival, as he's failing to cover his tracks and the freely falling blood from the wound on his side. It's bad. He feels bone under his palm.

All he knows is that it started with the last theater. 

*

McKane comes along with him for the remaining numbers, after Theo lowers his guard during the nearly two weeks they spend at Lucia's. The hours of strategizing, video conference calls, training and pseudo therapy sessions have more or less helped Theo build trust for the man. Argent warming up to him in the matter of a day also helps his case. And Bree's spontaneous one day visit, followed by the bear hugs with McKane, cement it.

Their new formation goes as follows: Theo, Derek, McKane, Argent and Malia. Scott stayed with Lucia to delegate the hefty decisions, while also running things through with Agent McCall so that they all stay on the same page. Liam is back in Beacon Hills and attending his classes, playing pretend, still bitter that he was once more sent away. Alec is also there to keep an eye on him, with the help of Corey, Mason and Nolan.

The theaters should have been a week's worth of time, tops. But all Theo feels is an intense foreboding of doom over their heads, mirrored by his new nanny squad. That, in turn, makes Malia resort to sparring lessons she forces Theo to conduct.

"You've always fought better than us. So teach me." was her reasoning.

Not that Theo has any protests on the matter. She's a quick learner, trusts her instinct. Her body remembers things at an astonishing pace, acquires speed startlingly fast and in no time he doesn't even have to go easy on her. McKane acts as their referee, Derek and Argent silently looking on. Sometimes Derek joins in too, with Theo. Sometimes McKane does. On a few notable occasions even Argent did, which was an interesting dirty fight that only made Argent grow in his eyes. Human he may be, but guns, knives and crossbows aren't the limit. 

Argent even pulls him aside to show him ways he can improve, rendering Theo speechless as he'd been expecting some form of scolding.

"You leave your side open, when you do this." Argent takes the position, then claps to the exposed part of his own body. "I know that four out of five times you'll be against people who aren't really as good as you are," wait a damn minute, is he— "But there's always that one person who'll knock you off your high horse one day, considering how arrogant you can get."

Argent's dose of praise: pat them on the shoulder, then kick them down so they forget any form of praising words. Theo snorts, corrects his stance and they continue the new routine of display and amend the weak spots.

This time the process is smoother for Theo, as well. McKane makes him tie a bandana to the lower half of his face every time he sets foot in a theater, one he's already dabbed orange essential oil on, as an anchor to the present world without the need of self-inflicted injuries. It's not fool-proof, he still has a hard time the following twelve hours after they've left, but. It helps. He hasn't had a dissociative episode and a win is a win.

It's going so well that he's just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And boy does it drop on their heads.

They get ambushed, miss the scents and multiple heart beats with the help of the clocking spell Monroe landed herself way back. It's a shitshow. Everything that can go wrong goes wrong.

It all happens in the last theater, when it's too late for them to head back. Too fast, no time to think, only to react. There's bullets, snarls, claws, knives, wolfsbane. There's smoke bombs and some new weapon she's designed to practically blind them. There's pain, there's yelling, and then there's the worst. 

They get separated. 

Theo tries to lure the hunters away, to a seclusion he knows has a vast array of acids at his disposal and, in a way, plays himself. Because she'd predicted his next moves. And she lays in wait for him, there already, a cold smile on her face and,

"Hello, Theo."

*

Which brings him to here and now. Alone, having lost more than a liter of blood, limbs in pins and needles. He doesn't even know how he got out, if the rest are alive and why she wanted to lure him away specifically. What he's more concerned about is how long she's known about this lab. Was she aware from the beginning? Did she do the waiting game, lull them into a false sense of victory that they've taken away her best source of destruction? Or was it a recent development? 

The bullet going through his chest stops him from turning more cogs, revisiting old sites to find the indicators, and he can't get up. Can't even pull himself on his hands.

The last thing he sees is a heeled boot, then the loud crack of his skull, and then—

Darkness.

*

He's strapped to something made of stone, metal chains icy from the winter air. He's freezing. 

"Oh, look who's come through. How nice of you to join us." he hears, somewhere to his left. Monroe.

Theo opens his eyes, and there she is. Healthy, glowing and manic. The same psychopathic aura to her since the last time he saw her. What makes him go into overdrive is how content she is, leery, like she's found out how to wipe every supernatural being on the planet. She's so happy that it makes bile rise in his throat.

Oh, fuck.

What has she done?

She tilts her head to one side. "It took me some time, but I won. I won, Theo, and I'll ruin all of you."

"What, no synopsis of the evil plans?" as Theo speaks blood pours out of his mouth, down to his throat. He's not letting her have her moment. 

Monroe narrows her eyes, a twisted sort of disgust in them. "You can't buy time. You can try, but there really isn't any way out."

"Oh, I know I'm dead. Been there and done that more than a few times, know how it feels by now."  

"Then what's the point of this conversation?" one of the surrounding goons laughs, malicious with it. 

Theo grins, teeth stained red, says nothing. Monroe regards him in a calculative way, settles on the comfort that he's chained and dying. It's not just the bullet wounds and blood loss, she's dosed him with something, his blurring vision and buzzing insides telling.

She grins back at him, relaxes back against the wall. "All this time I searched for a werewolf and the key was right in front of me." she starts, as if retelling a fond recollection. 

The key for what? Ritual? Summoning? What?

"Turns out you can bribe even the toughest one, with the proper ingredients. You see, I found a very interesting source in New York. Right under the Feng clan's noses even." Theo's blood runs cold, freezing his brain along the way. A spy? "The enemy of my enemy is my ally. And you have no idea how many enemies Yao Feng has." 

The moment she starts explaining, his perception warps. Theo has only heard of the ritual from Bree, seeing as she found it, or if found her more like. The Arcana sisterhood, or as the original name goes: Baomi Jiaopai. The coven of deceased witches notorious for stringing the sentenced individuals on a trial held by the ones they've murdered. Then leaving said individual in their hands, practically forever, no way out. Once sentenced, you're a goner. Theo never found out if direct blood line is needed or other quotas have to be met. Monroe, apparently, has.

"Not so mouthy now, are ya, freak?" a tall guys with fish eyes snarks, rabid with hatred. 

"You know what they do." Monroe says, head tipping up to look down at him. "But what you didn't know is that they can be utilized for more than simple sentencing. If you become their full master they abide to every word. You'd need a specific ritual to do that, of course, which kept us busy for the better part of the past half year."

They have it now.

"And that's you, Theo. You're the key. You," she pushes off the wall, heels clacking on the stoned floor, to rest her hands on the slab of stone he's chained to. "Will kill them all."

Theo snarls, actively trying to cover up how much the words are affecting him. She knows it, softens her features in mocking sympathy.

"What's that face for? Thought you liked murder?" she asks, the rest of her cronies bellowing out ugly laughs that echo all over the space of the chamber they're in.

She's been trying to kill werewolves as sacrifices because the ritual's original transcription was so messed up that they fucked up a few important words. What she thought meant a werewolf is supposed to be any sort of were-creature but a werewolf, one that has stayed dead for some amount of time, then brought back to life. One who has wandered both worlds, holds both parts of them in their soul, hence the heavy and excruciatingly important requirement. Death warps everything it touches and that precise left-over power is the key component in this ritual. Spiritual residue.

Peter would have been an ideal candidate if he wasn't a full-blooded werewolf. And Theo is still half-coyote, which mixed in with the knowledge that he's a science experiment is enough to bypass the system. Enough of a supernatural to be fit for the trial.

If she chains the Baomi Jiaopai to herself she can use them for her bidding of executing all supernatural. It'll be over. They're all dead. And it'll be all his fault because he slipped right into her hands.

With the flick of her wrist her sycophants set to lighting the elaborate set of candles. Once there's more light Theo takes sight of the sigils smeared on the wall, blood still dripping down the stone from them. His blood. Monroe cuts to the chase and before he can even brace himself she's stabbed a dagger made entirely of jade through his middle, the force lodging it into the stone itself. 

Theo chokes on another mouthful of blood. That thing is magic-infused, the thrum of what appears to be the start of the spell feeling like a force squeezing his insides with searing claws. He can't even produce a sound. Monroe hurriedly takes a tome handed to her, starts chanting. 

Three candles get blown away, not by one of her own. 

She keeps reading, tone unchanging, circling him. Four tours in she stops by his head. This time Theo has a few seconds to prepare and even take the last proper lungfuls of breath he'll ever have before she slits his throat. It's a weird feeling, like you're drowning and the muscles around the area are paralyzed. It's when the panic settles in. 

She must have used another jade dagger forged from or with the same type of magic. It feels like melted metal on him, dripping along the sides to form a bloody leash of fire. His body shakes, rattling the chains along with it.

He can't breathe.

Monroe stops chanting only once and it's to look him in the eyes, upside down, with her teeth bared in a nasty smile of vengeance. It's for the sole purpose of, "You ready to see Tara?"

Theo grits his teeth, consciousness steadily slipping from him. The jade dagger stabbed into him pulses, the power it emits not unlike unseen energy tearing at his skin, sinew and bone. He knows pain, grew up with it, it isn't something that phases him anymore. He'd thought the memory manipulation at Lucia's and the clearing with Yao Feng were bad, would be the most excruciating things he'll ever experience. This current pain, however, melts his brain, shocking it so much that he isn't even fainting from it. What the Doctors did was mostly surgery related, this is pure magic tearing him apart. And magic always has and always will hurt more than any scalpel, syringe or dose of mercury ever has. 

It's how he misses it when things go wrong. The terrified screaming is the first indicator to cut through the pain-induced fog and the overwhelming sound of blood rushing in his ears. The piercing noise of stone on stone, of stone dragging on stone, is next. Last is the cold. 

Theo forces his eyes open. 

All of the hunters have been chained to slabs of stone that weren't there the last time he was actively looking, for them all to form a complete circle. The sigils on the walls are coated with their blood atop his, barely recognizable anymore, closer to grotesquely melting circles. All of them have similar jade daggers stabbed through their guts. Theo sees in slow motion as a sole jade dagger appears in the middle of their circle, swerving in black smoke that withers as it does a wide arc to slit each and every single one of their throats open just as Monroe had slit his. Their terror clogs his nose more than the stench of copper, and their horror-filled screams try to escape through their now gaping necks, the sound of them wet and muted, unlike anything he's heard before. The difference is that where Theo sustained a broad laceration that admittedly isn't benign, they spot slashes so deep that the tissues and muscles wouldn't have been able to support their heads had they been standing. 

He blinks and shadowy figures flicker into existence. Faceless abyss after faceless abyss. The last thing he sees is the one designated for him reaching towards his face. Reaching and stopping. Reaching but not touching yet, not tearing his jaws apart to shove a tied bundle of burning herbs down his maimed throat, not yanking his ribs open like the rest of the shadows do to Monroe and her hunters, one by one, making them watch the domino effect. It just reaches. 

It just reaches, hand empty, and covers his eyes. 

*

He's in the same chamber, watching from the side, watching the convulsing bodies surrounding him, watching the copious amount of blood pour out of each and every single one of them. Watches and sees how all the shadows turn to the one above his corpse. 

His designated shadow extends an abnormally long arm to rip the dagger out of his abdomen. It must be a sign. The rest turn to their own prey, tear out the hearts only to stab them back into the gaping rib cages with jade daggers, the twin sets in each hunter pulsating with an energy field so potent that the power is visible to the naked eye.

A wave of magic pulses, thrumming with a multitude to screams of countless sentenced, before and now, leaves a perfect circle in the form of a crater in the stone walls.

Somewhere a distant detail swims to the surface. Baomi Jiaopai aren't things to be bound, aren't thoughtless slaves. The Feng clan never used them as such, because the coven willingly permitted their contract - the Fengs supply them with a reason to keep existing, to keep doing what they were raised with, and the Baomi Jiaopai help them take care of threats, if said threats truly are corrupted and deserving of such a death. A mutual convenience. 

As is the Baomi Jiaopai law: only magic can punish magic. But, they were once human and just as cunning, knew they had to bide their time to use the loophole. They're omniscient. And they let Monroe keep on chanting, with her little foaming gang of simplistic followers, to make her unknowingly strip their own humanity, hack at it until it started splintering. They let her think she's at the top of the world, then tore it out of her bloody hands the moment she, and all with her, crossed the path of no return, of no longer being fully human, contaminated by the magic of the countless rituals they'd conducted.

Only a disgraceful fool would think a simple ritual of humans can bind centuries of ancient magic. 

*

The wolf sniffs out the air, unaware of how it got here, only that the human boy and the coyote runt shouldn't come out. It's too dangerous and they're too weak, will get them killed in a heartbeat. Especially the overly trusting runt that it's obliged to keep in check, or those three monster figures would come for them both and hurt their human boy.

It steps on careful paws in the snow, ears going every direction to map out the potential threats. There was a shadow thing a few kilometers back that waved their weird arm at the spanning forest, to show the way out, but it didn't follow. For now it's just them and the birds.

Food, water and shelter is what they need. The sky is white, filled with falling slabs of more white. It's quiet. It's safe. For now. 

The wolf runs, until it can't run any more. It's not stupid, kept some energy for hunting, for food. It filled its belly with snow to stave off the hunger. The rabbit is an easy target, just as unassuming as the runt keeping human boy company. Shelter proves to be the hardest obstacle with the blinding wind.

A dying tree provides its delved in trunk as a temporary stop. The wolf burrows in it as far as it can, curls tightly to shiver and watch the merciless winds. The storm slows a bit and between one moment and the next, the wolf falls asleep. 

By the time it wakes up there's no more falling snow. It's easier to navigate the forests. Off to another run the wolf goes, instinct whispering that they have to be far, far away from back there. 

Back there is where the bloody corpses are and if they don't run they're next. They've already died before, know what follows, but they don't want to go back to the human sister and her cold fingers in their rib cage. So they run, run, run. 

Human boy stirs sometimes, never truly waking up. Mght never wake up. The past months it dragged them through hell in the form of memories better forgotten and it fractured him, ruined him, even if it also brought him peace. The runt keeps on pawing at its consciousness, resulting in not even a ping back. 

For now the wolf lets it be. Either the boy wakes up or it doesn't. 

Run, eat, sleep.

Run, eat, sleep.

Sunrises are pretty. Sunsets are even prettier. Human boy was fond of them, they made him easier to tolerate, especially if that human not-pack beta was with him for them. Thinking of the not-pack beta hurts, as well as thinking of the rest of its not-pack. The wolf wanted them to be pack, as did the runt and human boy, but too much blood was spilled, too much skin was torn off. Now sunsets always make the wolf grow cold, no matter how many warm places it uncovers to lay in. 

Run, eat, sleep.

Time doesn't exist. It's only bright or dark, sun and no sun, sunrise and sunset.

Run, eat, sleep.

Running so much is tiring.

Run, eat, sleep.

The wolf finds a fox cub after a hunt. It isn't hungry anymore, belly full, but it's curious. The cub is crying, all alone. Just like them. The wolf remembers the other fox cub, from the tall alpha's pack, the same fox cub that made human boy cry, but also made it happy. The wolf ushers the terrified cub to the forest, tracks the last remnants of its mother's scent, nudges it with a paw in her direction when they find her. The mother scents her cub, licks at its tiny snout, looks at the wolf. It looks and looks, raises her head a little before she gently takes the cub in her jaws to run away.

Run, eat, sleep.

The wolf doesn't go near humans. The last ones almost killed them. It still feels metal chains that aren't there, still feels like its insides are tearing, still feels like its throat is gaping. 

Run, eat, sleep. 

The wolf wants to stop running. It wants human boy to finally wake up. It's too quiet otherwise and the runt won't stop crying nowadays.The wolf knows it's not supposed to show it kindness, or there'll be consequences in the form of electricity and needles, but it wants to. Doesn't like the constant crying, its smothering misery and the naive touches it keeps handing out to the human boy that has also kept it on a tight leash, or else.

One sunset bleeds into the other, more painful than the next. Human boy's memories have started fading, the wolf doesn't even know what it's running away from anymore or why the sunsets hurt. 

Run, eat, sleep.

The wolf shivers, ears to its skull. It doesn't want to eat anymore, nor does the runt. It has stayed silent for some time, curled next to the sleeping human boy, doesn't even want to come out anymore. It doesn't react when the wolf tries to nudge it onto its paws, it just sleeps, too.

The winter is harsher here. The wind is blowing in the wolf's face, has been for hours, but if there's no wind to surround it it's too dim and quiet. So it just stays in the snow, watches the umpteenth storm pass it by. Human boy and the runt sleep and the wolf is alone. Lonely.

It doesn't want to run.

*

There's footsteps approaching. The wolf doesn't want to run, doubts its sleeping companions want to either. 

And there, in the sunset, is a figure. It approaches and the wolf stands, tenses. It doesn't want to run, but the figure doesn't stop. It's a human and humans only cause pain. 

But,

"Theo." the figure says, its features blurred by the last rays of the sun. "Please. Please don't run, please."

The wolf feels like it knows this figure, that it reminds it of sunsets like the one swathing them in color now. 

It doesn't run, stays rooted to its spot with its head low. The crunching footsteps advance and the human's face becomes clearer from this close. Its blue eyes are spilled over, cheeks wet, mouth wobbling. A human boy. No, a human wolf of a boy, just like the wolf's sleeping human boy. 

It lands on its knees right in front of the wolf with an uncontrolled, hurt whimper and more tears fall on the snow. It reaches and pulls the wolf close, mindless of its sharp teeth so close to its throat. 

"Theo." it whispers, shudders with the weight of the human word. "Theo." 

It's warm now, wolf boy smells nice, smells like home. 

"Oh god, I found you." it rasps, grips tighter and buries its face in the wolf's coat. "I found you." it whispers, weeps and shakes. 

The wolf catches more scents nearing, manages to curl into itself in spite of the human limbs constricting its movement and how large it is in comparison. Another human wolf approaches, an alpha, dressed all in black with long hair. She also drops to her knees, places a hand atop wolf boy's trembling shoulder.

"Let him breathe some, Liam." she says, but keeps on looking at the wolf, her eyes also glistening. 

The wolf keenly observes her hand as it nears its head. Warm, gentle fingers stroke behind one ear, shift to the top of its head when it doesn't react. 

"Theo, you with us?" she asks, but it's choked up; she knows the answer. The wolf doesn't even know how it understands the meaning, or some of it at least, possibly remnants of the sleeping human boy. 

The wolf blinks, moves a little to take a glimpse of the other figures in the back, standing still in wait. What for, it doesn't know. But it doesn't want to run. 

The woman alpha abruptly turns her head to the sky, the grip of her fingers tightening, the scent of salt cloaking her. And wolf boy's weeps grow, keep growing, reeking of pain while also not being hurt anywhere the wolf can see or sense. There's no blood in the air, so why is it in pain? Why can it barely breathe around its hurt?

A third figure, another human alpha, another boy, comes to them. "Theo?" the wolf blinks up at him. This is wolf boy's alpha. "Lucia—"

The woman alpha shakes her head, swallows. The wolf can't think with all those cloying scents in the air that reek of hurt, bitterness and anguish. There's no wind to carry it away. It makes it uneasy, prickly. Wolf boy pulls it closer to its chest, presses the wolf's head there, hides it from the rest and envelops it as best as it can with the upper cloth it wears.

At some point the wolf has tumbled off into a nap, wakes to still being in wolf boy's arms. They're in a moving, enclosed space. Warm. Vibrating. 

"Shhhhh." wolf boy tells it, bundles it closer and the wolf is too tired to do anything but sleep. 

*

The wolf is left alone in a house with wolf boy. It sniffs out every nook and cranny, with wolf boy not far behind. It never lets the wolf out of its sight, grows anxious if it does. It takes the wolf snapping its jaws with a low growl for it to realize it's crowding too close, too much, too soon. 

"Sorry." it says, takes a step back. The wolf stops growling, huffs a grumble before going back to exploring. 

A shrill noise sounds, causing the wolf to crash into a wall. It's the metal thingy with human voices. Wolf boy fumbles to get it out of the pocket, places a placating hand on the wolf's side for a scant second in comfort. No danger, it's safe, it means. The wolf licks at the hand, decides to not bite at it.

"Yeah?" 

"He's not there, is he?" 

The wolf's ears perk up. It knows this voice. The same way it knew that wolf boy isn't a threat, nor the rest of the human wolves with it. 

Wolf boy freezes, whispers to the other voice, "He recognized you."

"Put me on speaker."  

A human girl. It knows this human girl. It knows it.

The wolf jumps on its front paws, demanding for the metal thingy to be placed on the ground so it can be inspected. Wolf boy complies and the wolf noses its hand away from the device, sniffs at it, but there's no new scent there.

"Theo?" the human girls' voice is hurried. She's anxious, too. "C'mon, you know me." but the distant voice of another human, on her side of the metal thingy, makes her shift focus. "Shut up! Just shut up, okay? Let me talk to him!"

The wolf growls, from deep within its chest, slaps a paw onto the device making it dash away and slide on the floor. It doesn't like whoever is with the girl. She needs to be calm and happy, not anxious and angry. It's bad for the head and the body and its human boy is proof enough.

Wolf boy carefully moves its paw away. "Hey, no, that's Brenna. You remember Brenna, right?"

But she's still talking with the other unknown human. "You know what? Fuck you, I'm heading over there."

The wolf finally hears the third voice with the human girl, from far away, "He's overwhelmed enough as it is after no human contact for a month. I know you want to—hey, I know you want to see him, okay? I know you do, but we risk him shutting us out and losing himself."

The wolf knows that voice, too. It appears to recognize a lot of voices, but human boy won't wake up to take care of the human business as usual. It keeps on sleeping and sleeping and sleeping and it's taken the runt with it, so now the wolf is on its own with all these two-legged human wolves and their weird human noises. 

The wolf lies down on its belly, covers its snout with both paws in irritation, then bites at one of them and starts chewing on it.

Wolf boy explodes. "No! Theo, no! No self-harm! Stop that!" 

The wolf doesn't listen after that, snaps at wolf boy that's trying to pull the stinging paw away. It does something with the metal thingy, making it go from bright as the sun to black, throws it at one of the beds.

"Please stop." wolf boy doesn't relent, no matter how much the wolf bares its teeth and wrinkles its nose in threat. "I'm so sick and fucking tired of you being hurt and in pain, and seeing that massacre scene with the slab of stone drenched in your blood was—" it chokes, curls at the waits. "Just, please, stop." 

The wolf does, only because wolf boy starts smelling like it's hurting again, scent sour with it, as well as with pungent fear. It once again noses at a warm, human hand, rubs its forehead over it and licks the twitching fingers once. An apology.

Wolf boy stays silent for some time, having taken control of its scent and chemo signals as it pulls the wolf onto the bed, then ushers it close. It's too hot with both of their high body temperatures, yet the wolf permits this, if it keeps wolf boy calmer and less terrifiedandgrieving. It starts talking, information piled for later, for if human boy wakes up.

"McKane found it, the chamber. You didn't see him when he came out, Theo. That guy's been in the military for decades and even he was shaken by it." wolf boy's breath tickles. "I lost it when he said you weren't there. Wasn't even supposed to know of the rescue mission, got lucky that I was with Ms. McCall when Scott called her." it fills its lungs, swallows. "Scott tried to stop me from entering, along with Derek, but when we got in, well. Nobody could move. There was blood everywhere." 

Wolf boy strokes at the wolf's coat, keeps petting it until the wolf is nothing but a pile of liquefied fur. The human boy would know. It lived through it, locked away the memories with it in whatever place its sleeping, to protect both the wolf and the runt and it can't access them, the wolf tried. 

Wolf boy doesn't continue, starts shaking again, pulls the wolf closer. The hands grip the same way the wolf would bite into a bone, don't let go. 

*

A human word zings in the wolf's mind when it comes to.

Liam.

The wolf boy is Liam, its human name. 

It's strange thinking in that language, with all of its detailed descriptions. Why do they need need such a vast array of explanations? Human boy isn't here as a way of translation between both sides, yet the wolf still somewhat grasps the meaning behind the sounds the human wolves produce. Human boy still isn't awake either, but it's given the wolf a word, a name. Maybe if the wolf uses it enough, human boy will wake up and stop the never-ceasing cloak of pain and misery and anger emanating from wolf boy. 

Liam. 

Liam.

Liam.

Wake up, human boy, it tries to mimic human boy's language, to no avail.

Human boy sleeps.

Liam is still holding the wolf, curled around it, has covered them with something soft and warm. Still awake but pretending not to be. The wolf considers moving away from the solace of this enclosed space, opts to take another nap instead. 

The days aren't measured just by sunsets and sunrises anymore. They're not cold either. Liam goes to another room to use the metal thingy with voices at least seven times a day, doesn't let the wolf near them, leaves on a bigger metal thingy with moving pictures to keep its attention away. 

Today the moving pictures are of Liam and his pack, and the sole reason the wolf doesn't go after Liam to hear the voices from the smaller metal thingy is because he hears them from the pictures. 

"Oh my god, is Theo snuggled between Alec and Liam, or am I hallucinating?"

On the big screen the wolf sees its human boy, along with Liam and another human wolf. It's the one human boy lives with, the wolf thinks, sniffs at the bright screen, can't catch a scent.

"Shhhh, I'm trying to take a picture!" Liam's human alpha. 

"Scotty, my boy, way ahead of ya. I'm taking a video of this, no way am I letting it slide."

Liam says something to the wolf's human boy, leaned in close, while the other human wolf turns to another boy.

The moving picture cuts off, another starting shortly after. It's dark, even for the wolf's sight. Human boy is lying in a weird inflatable bed with Liam. The moving picture is choppy, from an odd angle, goes black but still holding sound. It turns around, to the face belonging to the first voice of the previous moving picture. It's the same human that doesn't trust them, the smart one with the snarky remarks and the constant battle with gravity and inanimate objects.

"Liam, next time you start a petty war with me just know that I have this," the human waves a hand in front of its face with no direction whatsoever. "And I'll be sending it to Theo. Capice?" 

Another moving picture starts after this one. 

Human boy and Liam, sitting on the ground in front of a big metal thingy with weird diagrams on it. 

Hushed whispers and suppressed laughter and, "How are they even doing it? It was supposed to be Theo helping him with chemistry and it's become this? The tension is killing me, I swear."

"They're in their own world at this point. Look at them, they can't even hear us gossiping about them." it's the wolf boy from the first moving picture, the one sat next to Liam and the wolf's human boy. He's important to human boy, the wolf can tell, can vaguely recollect. Can vaguely feel that importance, too.

The moving picture shakes, is replaced by sliding and unmoving pictures. Most of them are of Liam and the wolf's human boy, different days and places, some blurry, others at strange angles with more human wolves. 

"What the fuck?" 

The wolf flinches, ears pinning back with its head low.

Liam is standing at the edge of the bed with wide, panicked eyes. "Mason, I'm gonna kill you." he gasps, covers the big metal thingy with a long cloth and takes the form of a ball on the bed, next to the wolf. "Oh god, he's gonna remember all of it when he wakes up."

Then something happens. The runt wakes up. 

The wolf sits on its haunches, tips its head to the side, mindless of the embarrassed squeaks and wiggling next to him. The runt shakes itself—this time the wolf doesn't bite or aim to incapacitate it, instead rubs their flanks together—nips at human boy's hand after the baffling affection from the wolf has sunk in. They wait. They wait, but human boy only stirs a bit, doesn't wake up.

*

Theo is wrapped in a soft blanket and something heavy is on him. Not the blanket. Fuck both whatever it is and the blanket.

He tries to move, can't. The arm on top of him doesn't let him. A single duration of ten seconds and wolf and coyote erupt in his head, loud and persistent, annoyed and worried. And in an awfully bewildering synchrony.

Theo tries to shut them up, which only makes them louder. They don't want him to fall back asleep, is the one thing he does understand from their stormy signals. Rude much. He needs sleep, it's the only way to heal properly. How the fuck is he supposed to pilot his body without the mental stability? Did they forget his deactivation spree around Christmas?

He moves to get off the bed and away from the arm that has grown tense. Somebody speaks and he should be able to understand them, but he can't really put the speech to any clear connotation currently. Theo shoves away, until he's on the floor with the freedom to change skins. That same somebody grows just as intense as the animals and he's having none of it. He patters away on his paws to a warm enough corner, snarls at the person when they try to touch him and lies down. 

And he sleeps.

*

The wolf is going to make human boy's life a living misery when its back online again. Wakes up just to agitate wolf boy and goes back to sleep. No, it's not going to use any more human language to describe humans, it's confusing and the wolf won't pander to that kid if it's going to pull stunts like this. 

The wolf is in a bad mood the whole day and the curled, motionless form of wolf boy reeking of despair makes it angrier. It bites at the leg of a chair to keep itself from chewing on its own paw, goes near the bed to peek up sometime in the afternoon. 

Wolf boy stares, eyes bleak, turns away. It hasn't gotten up once today. When the wolf hops up it stays facing away. Maybe the floor is a better idea after all. Or the wolf could open the door and go outside. A quick arm stops it, makes it lie down. The wolf stays.

*

Theo opens his eyes and he's alive. 

He's not back with Monroe, he's not stabbed with his throat slashed open and a shadowy figure towering over him. He's alive. 

And he's been asleep for a long time. 

He senses Liam next to him, facing him and gripping his forearm, still unconscious.

Where the hell are they?

Theo stays inert, breathes in and out. Waits for the memories to come to him.

He's been on the run. Well, the wolf was. Theo was—kinda half dead, if he has to assume. Recuperating in his own mind. Liam and the rest found him. From the phone conversation with Bree and Yao Feng's words, he's been running for a month, hiding, existing just to survive and with no clear cut motive but to go as far away from those chambers as the wolf could carry him. Then, Liam's laptop. The little video clips that Mason must have compiled and convinced Liam to play to the wolf in an attempt to bring Theo back through reliving certain moments. Certain moments with Liam. 

Theo had an idea of how obvious they are, wasn't aware that Liam's pack has been compiling evidence since who knows how long.

Liam's leg jerks, pulse picking up with his scent sour with terror. His lungs seize, Theo's doing the same. After the wolf was in the front by necessity for so long he's quick to react on instinct before anything else, turns on his side, slides his free hand forward to shake him awake. Liam's eyes snap open and he stops breathing, doing a full-bodied recoil. The palm still on Theo's forearm has an iron grip on him, claws having emerged to dig into his skin.

Theo's rapid movement has stirred the air, and along with it whatever dust is on the blanket, sheets and cover.

Liam's face pinches, he covers his lower face moments before he sneezes. A second time. A third time. And a fourth time in a row. 

Those damn fucking wolf hairs. 

Theo makes him sit up, uses Liam's distracted and stupefied state in his gain to pull the blanket over Liam and get him to his feet, while also tying the discarded and relatively hair-free cover to his own waist, and pulls the sheets in his arms to go get rid of the fur. Liam stands still where he left him, watching him with wide, disbelieving blue eyes and his pulse sky high when he comes back, not unlike a statue. Theo tugs the blanket off him once he's done with the sheets and pillows, wills himself not take a lungful of Liam's scent and makes another tour to the front door. He gets pelted with another bout of freezing air as he shakes the thing a few times to fill the snow with more wolf hairs. The only saving grace is that the wind isn't blowing his way, or else the hairs would have gone straight into his face.

When he gets back Liam is sitting with his legs crossed in the middle of the bed, having haphazardly tucked the sheets in an automatic action rather than a need to help, tremor-filled hands covering his mouth and chin. He's heaving like he's straight out of an intense lacrosse practice, mind in overdrive. 

Liam strikes out the moment Theo is within his range, yanks him onto the bed, which dislodges the cover from Theo's waist. Being practically in Liam's lap goes to his head and he can't react to either this situation, nor to the desperate way Liam's palms find their way to Theo's face, pressure a bit too hard on his cheekbones. Blue on green, and Liam's chest starts rising and falling at an alarming rate. 

Theo curls a hand around the back of Liam's head, making it a hard pressure point. "Breathe." he tells him, guides him to lean forward so that his head is closer to Theo's lungs, encouraging him to copy his breathing pattern. 

When he reaches for one of Liam's hands Liam grabs his wrist, then the other, both in twin steel grips. Theo pushes Liam's head down with the tip of his chin.

"Liam, breathe."

Liam shakes his head. "You were dead." it's the type of voice break before one starts weeping uncontrollably. Theo remembers with clarity, the following moment after they found him, after Liam found him. Liam's imminent breakdown was so intense he couldn't even keep his body from expressing all of the pent-up stress in the form of all-encompassing sobs. "And then you were gone. You were—"

Theo makes an attempt to free his hands, has his arms shoved back by Liam for his effort, chest coming forward at the way his shoulders are pushed back. Liam keeps shaking his head, giving these high, distressed noises. 

Theo brings his legs up—mindless of his lack of clothes situation—to cinch them around Liam's ribs in a makeshift barricade and anchor, applies a barely there pressure only to relax his muscles, again and again in a specific rhythm, imitates a steady pulse with the motions. 

"C'mon, breathe with me." Theo murmurs, takes Liam's steadily lax grip as the chance he's been waiting for. 

Liam intercepts him with a low, threatening sound the exact second he feels Theo's wrists are no longer in his hold and between one moment and the next they're hand to hand, Theo nudging his fingers between Liam's to grip tight. Liam's arms twitch, as do the obliques under Theo's inner legs, head pulling back a smidge to catch Theo's eye. 

"You're in a house." Theo starts with his voice quiet, lulling, hoping that Liam remembers this sequence. "Size, location, furniture, layout, time in space - all up to you." Liam's eyes widen, the something, that Theo has chased and has been unable to catch, surfacing. "It's familiar, might even be boring on occasions." Liam squeezes his eyes shut. "The people there are all welcome, nobody is out of place. Can you picture it?"

And with a heavy shudder his head falls back down, previously lax fingers now curling and gripping Theo's hands back, forehead bracing where shoulder and neck meet, hair tickling Theo's skin. 

It takes him a little while to picture it in his head, his idea of a house that is a home. It's gradual, the process of him coming back; his scent starts leveling out, the cloying and bitter notes in it steadily dying out like candle flames.

But.

The sensation of something on his throat brings him back to that place. To when he couldn't breathe past the scorching agony coming wave after wave, choking on his own blood in his lungs.

Liam springs back like he's been stung, having caught the change in Theo's signals. Fucking shit, all that progress ruined in the span of a second.

"I'm okay." Theo rasps. "I'm okay. Just," a phantom pain throbs in his abdomen and throat, vision getting blurry. He tightens his legs around Liam's ribs. "Just give me a second. Psychosomatic, should go away on its own."

Liam presses their foreheads together, doesn't let go of his hands. However, he does ask: "Do you need me to stop touching you?" he doesn't want to but he will, if Theo asks him to.

Theo doesn't know what he needs, the animals aren't of any help either. He shakes his head. Liam uses their joined palms to pull him closer, brings his elbows down to the outside of Theo's raised knees, making Theo's legs cage him in further. Now he's as close to a fetal position as he can get.

"We saw what happened." Liam lets out, constructing his sentence in a slurred manner, elaborates: "The castors of the ritual, the living ones, serve as the moral compass. They have some sort of connection with the coven."

"Make them emotionally compromised with their humanity." Theo realizes. Liam is using Theo's form of logical diversion in order to give his body time to catch up with his mind, all the while staving off his own impending panic attack. Also handing Theo intel he'd like to know. And he does, now that he's thinking about it, he needs to know the reason why he wasn't sentenced. It didn't kill him, "Because of Bree?"

Once, a late night call of reminiscing, she confessed that she'd conducted the ritual as a test to her abilities, a little after she uncovered the spell. Her bloodline is complicated like that, and if her older half-brother could do it on the first try, she thought she'd be able to as well, so why not? Teenage impulsivity at its finest. That was back before Theo came along. Yao Feng forbade her from ever casting the ritual again, as it was too dangerous and it came with too much responsibility for her fourteen-year-old self could handle. The connection from the initial contact she must have made with the Baomi Jiaopai shouldn't have been strong enough, it builds the more you summon them, the more you prove yourself as a person with correct judgement to sentence and condemn. As it is, she truly is a unique case. Died, got resurrected by a necromancer, got her humanity back. That must have amplified everything, must have filled a supernatural quota of some sort. Might have even made a connection they don't have an explanation for.

Since they're entities of death, essentially, it makes some sense. They're more likely to indulge one that has roamed their world, if for a short while, Theo presumes. And maybe, just maybe, they're also liable to further be persuaded to spare somebody who's roamed their world, on top of the human compassion they're connected to.

That's not all. Has to be more to it since Liam's scent is rapidly souring, growing heavy with anxiety and fear.

"She didn't mean to." he shoots out. "When she summoned the, whatever those things were, she didn't mean to. But she was stressed because we were doing it behind her brother's back, we didn't have a lot of time and I guess she couldn't stop herself from broadcasting the afterimages to us, too. Because they showed her. When she asked, begged to know what happened after she'd felt them being summoned by somebody who's not her family at the same time her brother did, then put two and two together when Yao Feng saw the scene of the chambers and the sigils, they showed her how you'd—what had—"

How he'd died. What had happened to Theo.

"Everybody in the building saw it. It felt like an explosion, a magnetic wave, and then I was there, staring at… staring at—" Liam tries to finish the sentence, is stopped by a high noise in his throat, an inhale in the form of a hurt, lupine whimper. "I think we had a meltdown, me and her, 'cause I don't know how I got out of that place or how Scott brought me back to the motel room."

Jesus, Theo remembers how he looked while he was observing from outside of his own body, how the entire chamber looked. A bloodbath, the stench of copper enough to make you hurl. He's seen a lot of bloody scenes in his life and even for him, this event was too much to witness, to live through. He can't imagine what it must have been for the unseasoned folk.

Theo tells him, "She needed somebody who'd died and was brought back, as the sacrifice for the binding spell she wanted to use. It had to be a supernatural, but not a werewolf like she'd initially thought. That's what she was looking for." Theo's mouth is filled with cotton. In retrospect all the murders would have made sense if they'd dug into the medical files some more, if they're tried to fill the blanks.

Theo swallows back the internal criticism; it's over now. The close proximity with Liam helps a lot. 

Liam's rage burns his nose. Theo shifts his head, to align their temples, the animal habit to provide comfort too strong for him to shake off. Liam's nose digs into the hinge of his jaw, when he returns the pressure of the touch.

"Am I a bad person for being satisfied she got dished the death she deserved?" Liam whispers right into his ear, breath warm. 

Theo answers with certainty, immediately, "No. You're not."

They stay like this for more than a minute, just to breathe together. Until they've calmed down in the loaded quiet, filled with things Liam wants to say, chooses not to yet. Until they can breathe unobstructed and their heart beats begin to match. Until they feel less like all of their nerve endings are exposed.

Liam is the first to break the silence.

His tone is hushed, voice low. "I want to try something. And I need you to tell me if I fuck up or if you want me to stop, okay?" Theo barely contains a shiver, nods.

Liam waits a few beats and at a slow pace he shifts his head forward, nose skimming down to the edge of Theo's jaw, then down, down, down to the lower edge of his ear, to reach the skin behind it. To scent him. There's no bad memories this time around. Liam stays there, taking in lungful after lungful, the effect it has on further calming him down is astounding, his entire frame loosening with it. Theo's head drops back to bare his throat. 

Liam's inhale is stopped short, hesitating to act out on what he clearly really wants to. He inches closer and lets go of Theo's right hand to gently cup the back of his skull and slowly guide his head to the side, handing Theo ample time to stop him if he needs an out. Theo's eyes close of their own volition with an overly audible swallow, his freed hand mirroring Liam's and anchoring in his hair, to confirm that Theo wants him there, isn't just tolerating it and is willingly exposing this vulnerable part of his body.

When Liam untangles their fingers for a second time it's to curl his arm around his waist, the pressure of his blazing hand on Theo's lower back. This time Theo doesn't fight the shiver, arches into it. 

"Just like that." Liam murmurs, fingers spasming. Theo's left hand lands on Liam's bare shoulder, human nails digging into his skin and muscle and bone there. 

A feather-like kiss under his ear, and another. Liam keeps up at it, gently covering one side of his throat with them, tracing the design of a map of his own making. He gives the same treatment to the opposite side, his mouth on Theo's skin increasing its pressure. Then,

"Okay?" and it's probably a deliberately vague word, which can mean are you okay?, or is this okay?, or do you want me to stop?, maybe even all of the above.

"Okay." Theo murmurs, rubbing his thumb behind Liam's ear.

Liam swallows. "Can I try something else?" it's a question, sounds like a confession. 

Theo says, "Go for it."

Trepidation burns in his veins.

A fever-hot tongue retraces the path of the kisses, human teeth searing the area, sucking at it with a wet noise, continue sucking what has to be a purple bruise into his skin when Theo's head fully drops back like his stings have been cut, now only supported by Liam's hand. Another shiver, arousal pulling at Theo's gut and he gives a hoarse moan at the prolonged feeling of tongue and teeth on the delicate skin. God, he wishes the marks would actually stay on him. Liam's back tenses, and he pulls him forward. Theo's cock makes contact with his abdomen, resulting in a lupine whimper that lodges into the back of his throat. There's still Liam's sweatpants between them, but the friction is too good, even like this, for Theo to move away and take care of that problem. 

The hand on his lower back slides upwards before going back down, blunt nails digging into his skin to tease at the nerve endings around his spine. Theo bows forward into him, melts into it, thighs clamping around Liam's obliques with his ankles crossing behind his back.

"Liam." Theo breathes, ragged, and the most turned on he's been in his life. His body sings with it, demands more of it. 

"Fuck." Liam rasps, hips angling into Theo's. 

"Yeah, yeah I'm good with that." 

It's Liam who whimpers this time, punched out, pulling Theo in until they're connected from hips to chest with no room for even air to pass between them. "I want you to fuck me. Have wanted it for so long, but right now can we—can I —"

Theo doesn't need an explanation, means it when he tells him, "Whatever you want, yes."

Liam inhales, lifts his head and maneuvers Theo's with the hand still cupping the back of his skull. "Do you want it? This isn't just you obliging?"

Because they both know Theo has done a lot of obliging, for small and grand things alike. This, right here, isn't such an instance. He wants it so bad his insides keep turning with the scorching twists of primal desire.

Theo slides a hand to the side of Liam's face, swipes a thumb under one eye. "Yes, I want it. I want you."

With the thought planted in his head his body keeps whispering at him, how much he needs it, the closeness of the act, of Liam just like that. He'll take whatever he can get, whatever Liam is willing to give him, in any shape or form.

Liam surges into him, kisses him, mouth heavy and insistent. The moment Theo opens his lips for him Liam slides his tongue inside, tangling it with his. He's just as bite-y with this activity as he was with Theo's neck, keeps tugging at his lower lip with human teeth until he can't keep the shift away anymore and sharp canines nick Theo's tongue, the cut healing fast, but not fast enough for them to not taste the blood. They both moan, from deep in their chests. Theo can't think about anything but this, but Liam's insatiable mouth, his twisting tongue between Theo's lips. 

There's nothing but them. No bad memories, just them, in this moment. 

Liam encourages the small jerks Theo's hips keep doing, giving him momentum and stability. The contrast of Liam's bare skin and the cotton of his sweatpants on his cock gets him more sensitive, the perfect slow teasing. Theo spreads his thighs, plants the heels of his feet into the mattress for better purchase. Then Liam's hand, the one on his back, skims to his side, slowly and with pressure up to his chest, skims it down with his fingers digging in to finally wrap around Theo's cock. 

Theo throws his head back with a choked noise, collapses back into Liam. The glide isn't quite smooth, but Liam gathers the steadily increasing wetness at the tip and soon fixes that. Liam strokes at his frenulum under the head on every few upstrokes, pauses at a particularly intense shiver with a syrupy smile, starts rubbing slow circles there. 

"Liam…" Theo gasps, braces both hands on Liam's shoulders, squirms at the deliciously overwhelming sensation, jerks his hips forward.

Liam holds eye contact with him and studies Theo's face with his pupils having taken over his irises, the blue in them barely visible, watching as he takes Theo apart. And this is just his hand, fuck. 

Liam leans in. "Just like that." he says, and their eyes flare from the heat in his words, Liam's widening. 

Theo can feel it, his own aren't golden but that fucking venomous shade. He twists his head to the side, closes them. 

"Hey, no." Liam cups his cheek with his free hand, brings Theo back to face him. "Don't hide them." Theo shakes his head in a sharp move, tries to tip it down; Liam doesn't let him. "Hey." he lets go of Theo's cock, to wrap his arm around Theo's middle, palm securing itself on the opposite hip. "Look at me? Please?"

He can't. 

"Not with those fucking arsenic eyes I'm not." Theo grits out, jaw clenching.

"Arsen—what? They literally look like fucking jewellery, where did you even get the arsenic from?" Liam's affronted by it, how dare Theo compare that shit to lethal poison when that's exactly how it looks like.

Jewellery? As fucking if. Toxic waste fits better.

"Theo. Look at me." Liam crowds in with his demand, his breath damp over Theo's mouth. "Please."

So Theo, because he's weak when Liam uses that word, does so and averts his gaze to the side, lips pulling together. Liam's pulse stutters. That gets his attention, tricks him into making eye contact. Liam has that same awestruck expression from months ago, in the theater when they were with Scott, Malia and Derek. His eyes are wide, fascinated and amazed, not repulsed or aghast at the sight. His thumb brushes Theo's lower lashes and he tries to get as close as possible before his vision doubles.

"They're like… like cracked emeralds." he states, with a smile of all things. 

"Broken things are useless."

Liam's face drops, turns stormy. "No. Not useless, not damaged and not arsenic, okay?"

"Generally, cracked things are considered faulty."

"Bullshit." the hand on Theo's hip grips him tighter, fingers sharper at the tips. A beat and, "Do you consider me faulty, then?" he raises his brows, playing dirty to try and provoke him, to prove a point. 

Theo flinches, "What? No. Why would I—"

"A werewolf with an IED, a walking time bomb. That should classify as broken goods, cracked. Faulty." and his par is not fair, it's not the same. Theo shakes his head sharply; Liam isn't his condition, isn't broken. "So if I'm not, why do you think your true eyes are?"

Theo's retort is smacked into oblivion, he's been well played. Liam tries to stay serious, but he loses focus watching Theo's eyes again. A shiver and a gravelly sigh, another jump in his pulse, another swipe of his thumb under one eye. He's actually serious. He likes them. He genuinely likes the sight of them.

That shouldn't hit and baffle Theo as hard as it does, shouldn't make him shiver at the realization. He'd spent all the years before Bree hating them, doing the same after he remembered what their original color was like, never considered them to be as enthralling as they seem to be to Liam. 

"Cracked emeralds." Liam repeats, like he's saying it to himself.

Theo's eyes pulse and he feels the color growing brighter with it. Liam's breath catches, followed by yet another shudder, scent growing hot with arousal. Theo's own matches his in response to how fucking divine Liam smells when he's like that. Liam's eyes narrow, brighten with an idea. 

He yanks Theo so that their hips collide and where Theo had flagged a bit Liam is still rock hard. "Tell me," he whispers against Theo's mouth, lips brushing his as he forms the words. "Does this feel like I'm disgusted in any way?"

His arm around Theo's waist pulls again as Liam thrusts his hips forward, bringing their cocks together with only cotton in the way, both of them giving simultaneous, low moans. His hand falls from Theo's face, to take one of Theo's and bring it down to the prominent bulge in his sweats.

"Does it, Theo?"

Theo's fingers grip him tight and Liam's eyes roll back into his skull, close for a brief moment, his back arching into Theo's touch. They slit open to stare at him, still flared.

"What's the verdict? Am I lying?" he gasps out, bares his now pointy teeth into a grin when Theo can't answer, or else it'll mean Liam's right. "Because I can tell you all about the dreams I've had about them. Dream after dream of you fucking me senseless in my bed, with those same eyes flared and staring down at me, watching me with your fingers in my mouth."

Theo grabs his lower jaw and kisses him, four fingers splayed on one side, his thumb digging into the jaw bone on the other. His arousal sparks up, ignited anew with the images he can't stop himself from picturing in vivid details. Liam pulls away. 

Theo makes the flare of his eyes pulse, feeling it with his own hand when Liam's cock twitches, sees when his pupils dilate further. Christ, the things this does to Theo. Then Liam brings his palm back to Theo's cock, grasping it in a tight grip off the bat with no preamble, thumb pushing into the glans on the head and Theo's thighs spread open, body lolling forward. He has to let go of Liam to dig his fingers into his hip, his other hand still holding Liam's lower jaw. 

"You have no idea how pretty you are, do you?" Liam's heavy breath passes over his mouth. "Gorgeous on any normal day, but so fucking stunning like this. Could watch you all day." he says as his hand keeps toying with him, like his arousal is so encompassing that he can't help his confession, and Theo himself can't even land a retort or feel embarrassment with the hard and steady—teasing—strokes. "I almost caved on Thanksgiving, when you were still half-asleep on your bed like some honest to fuck Greek god in grey sweatpants. And you had a mild case of morning wood I don't even think you knew about, you asshole, I was gonna faint on the spot."

"Funny you should say that," Theo chokes out, thrusts his hips into Liam's stimulation, into the index finger that traces the protruding veins on his cock while the middle finger of his other hand keeps going over the little slit in the head. "I almost pinned you down back then."

Liam groans, goes to start mouthing at his throat again. He stops before his lips touch Theo, continues only when Theo gives him a vocal yes and bites into the tendons with non-human teeth, still careful to not pierce him with them. He smiles into Theo's skin at the keen crawling out of Theo's mouth, at how he pushes Liam's head closer. The pit of arousal in his stomach grows hotter and hotter, knots starting to twist in his lower abdomen, head spinning.

"If you don't stop I'm gonna come." he pants, the sentence is barely a sentence with how fast he spews it out. 

Liam bites at his jaw, tongue laving over the edge of it while he speeds up his hand, his other pressed flat over the head, rubbing. "That's the whole point." 

Theo chokes on air, claws on the verge of springing out to dig into Liam's defined shoulder. And, well, he's not Theo if he doesn't try and get back a little, inches his mouth closer to Liam's ear so that he can bite at the shell of it. "I thought the point was for you to fuck me."

In response to the words Liam whimpers, hands applying more pressure, "Oh, I will. But first I want to see you come like this." he doesn't give Theo time to throw in a jibe, sinks his teeth directly over Theo's jugular vein and holds.

The orgasm is teared out of Theo, a kick to his gut, and he produces a sound between a cry and a moan, with a distinguished, resonating note of not-human in it. Liam lifts his head. Even through the haze of pleasurable waves that make his thighs clamp around Liam's waist, take him to a near hyperventilation state, he knows he'd been too loud. But Liam just gives his own gravelly moan, and Theo feels it reverberate into his own chest. 

"Like that, Theo. Just like that. Wanna see all of it." he keeps moving his hand in tight and slow strokes, to keep Theo high on the wave, bringing his other hand to press his thumb to Theo's lower lip. He's breathing like he's the one having an orgasm with how rapt his attention is. He's been watching the entire time, flared golden to flared green, like he's hypnotized by every single expression passing Theo's face. 

Theo sucks the thumb into his mouth, tongue pressing to the pad of it, to keep the high noises in. Liam gets it quickly, applies pressure, gentle but enough to make his lower jaw drop a little so that he can hear every single note coming out of Theo's mouth. Theo gets oversensitive fast after the last dregs of his high start leveling, sees Liam's front covered in his release and drops his head back with a faint keen, pushing into Liam's hand. The thin line between pleasure and pain is quickly breached, abdominal muscles spasming with it, but he wants everything Liam is willing to hand out, no matter how they get there.

"Hey." Liam abruptly lets go of his spent cock, pulls his thumb out of his mouth to hold his cheek, and Theo collapses into him, panting and with his muscles twitching all over. "Hey, shhh." with the back of his come-streaked hand, the only clean part of it, he drags feather light caresses over his breastbone. He must have noticed the change in Theo's scent. "Didn't we agree you'll tell me if I fuck up?" and now he's heading towards distress valley, obviously thinking he's forced something onto Theo.

"You… didn't…" Theo unevenly rasps, still unable to take deep breaths. A few moments and, "So… we getting to the fucking part?" 

Thin lines appear between Liam's brows when he furrows them, eyes zig-zagging while he studies Theo's features. He comes to a conclusion pretty fast.

There's a vulnerable crack in his voice when he inquires, "You do know that this isn't just sex, isn't just about fucking and coming? Right, Theo?" but he sounds like he's staring right at the answer Theo will give him, is dreading it becoming definite. "Theo?"

Theo is too far down the lane with the still present tremors of the orgasm, is unable to control his face or chemo signals. Liam makes a high-pitched, anxious noise, clearly not liking the reaction. Theo looks away, shoulders climbing up to his ears instantly, hunching in to shift away from Liam's heat. 

"Then what is it?" it's hushed when he vocalizes it, failing to make it land as even remotely humorous. "I'm—at the end of the day, I'm a thing only good enough for a fuck, Liam, so—"

Liam snarls right in his face, startling him, all bared sharp teeth and flared eyes. "Don't you fucking dare say that shit to my face!" there's not a trace of human in the outbursts. He's gone from zero to sixty, so livid from Theo's confession that he's triggered the IED. 

Liam forcibly fills his lungs to their full capacity, removes his hands from him and closes his eyes, cracks his neck. When he opens them they're still flared, hold more clarity. And apparently he's also so livid he's afraid to speak his mind, quivering with the withheld words. Theo opens his mouth. Liam jerks his head to the side, effectively giving him a sign to shut it. Amidst the anger is hurt. A lot of hurt and bitter ache. His eyes lose the shift, Theo having preceded him ever since Liam had let go of him, take on a glassy appearance. 

"I need you to understand something. I need you to understand that you're not just sex to me. You're not an easy way for me to get pleasure, nor are you just a—a thing, an object." he goes for the slow method, opting to not just rain it all on Theo, opting to think before he acts. "You're so much more than that. And if this," he waves his index finger between the two of them. "Is because you think you owe me something or, or if you think I need it and it's not because you truly want it—"

"That's not—I told you I want you. I told you that." Theo grasps Liam's shoulder like that'll get through him. "It wasn't a lie, you haven't coerced me into anything. It was a thousand percent consensual, okay?"

Liam's face is pinched. Theo can't imagine how much it costs him to keep it open the way it is, letting Theo see instead of storming away. He looks like he wants to believe him, but whatever deduction he's in the midst of making isn't letting him.

"I did it of my own free will. I wanted it, still want it. It isn't some fucking misguided way to make it up to you." Liam's mouth pinches at the last words; oh, there is it, jackpot. "I want to be here," Theo inches his head closer. "With you," he runs a hand from the middle of Liam's chest to the side of his neck, palm holding his cheek. "Like this." and he presses the insides of his thighs to the outsides of Liam's hips. "I just…" he can't articulate it with vocabulary other than the crude way that only served to hurt Liam, the way he doesn't want to hurt him further.

But Liam can. 

"You just don't think you can be loved."

Just like before Theo severs the eye contact, unable to stomach it. Because he's right. He does think that. He doesn't deserve it and who in their right mind would? 

A certain conversation with Lucia crashes into him like an avalanche.

"And what about Liam? You don't trust him with you."

Either Liam has developed a sudden ability of telepathy or he's gotten keen on reading Theo. "You won't trust me if I say I do, will you?"

It echoes, inside of Theo. 

If I say I do, if I say I do, if I say I do.

A bout of icy alarm starts circulating in his bloodstream. Liam doesn't. He just thinks he does, but he doesn't. He's a teenager that doesn't know what love is, has only experienced puppy love at best. Maybe what he had with Hayden was love and he'll probably find somebody just as suitable in college, will get to live a more normal life, won't get that from Theo. He thinks he means it, but he doesn't. He can't. Why would he? Theo is just… Theo. The murderer who traumatized and almost splintered his pack apart. 

He's—

Liam grabs his chin in an identical manner Theo had, four fingers on one side, thumb on the other, grip solid and unshakable with an adamant expression. 

"Whatever you're thinking about - stop it." Theo brings his teeth together. "I can smell it, Theo. Stop." he's deadass serious, but the following order is muted and hushed: "I hate it when you get scared like this, so please, stop."

Theo focuses on the wrinkles of the sheets, drops his hand from Liam. Only Liam catches it when it falls, threads their fingers together. Now Theo can't focus on the wrinkles on the sheets if he tries because he's gazing down at their connection, like it's a gun aimed at him. And because Liam is an utter imbecile, he starts pulling the numbing fear away, grey lines crawling up his forearm.

Theo tries to yank his hand away. "Stop it." he hisses, Liam doesn't listen. "You fucking know how dangerous that is!" it's too late, he's leached it all out, he's felt it. The fear, the turmoil, the pain from that pathetic and needy side of him, he's felt it all. He knows exactly how Theo feels. 

Theo's still feeling it, brain too overworked to not signal more hormones to set his blood ablaze, which is why he shoves Liam away while hefting himself closer to the edge of the bed, making sure they're not touching anymore, and points a finger at him to keep him away. Now he's afraid and angry. For different reasons than before. He recalls as bright as day how Ryan, the kid Lucia took in, looked while he kept pulling his schizophrenic mother's terror and paranoia every day, how he went comatose and tore his own throat out. 

Liam realizes the mistakes he's made, raises both hands in a placating manner. In another situation it'd be funny with how one is still dirty. This isn't such an instance.

"Don't fucking touch me." his chest rumbles with the growl, recoils back when Liam intends to move closer. Liam stops. 

"I won't do it again." Liam promises, stays where he is on his knees. "I won't. I'm sorry, I didn't think—"

"That's the problem, Liam! You rarely think before you do." instead of getting stung at the acrid tone like Theo had expected him to, Liam contemplates the words, finds Theo's misstep.

"Which is why you won't believe words." he mutters with a nod, more to himself. "You think I haven't spent months only thinking about it, convincing myself I'm not feeling what I'm feeling, making Mase and Corey try and convince me of it, too, and fail at every attempt. But I have."

"No, you're just hyper-fixating and you're physically attracted to me."

Liam crosses his legs, leans an elbow on one thigh and braces his chin on it, levels him with a cold type of fury. "Wasn't aware that hyper-fixations and physical attraction could make you hurt like somebody's torn your insides, could make you cry harder than when you were a kid, or that it could make you do a total shutdown that nearly gave your mom and dad a heart attack. But that might just be me, I guess." 

Theo's wrath dissipates, shatters. 

"I know you have a fucked up world view and ginormous trust issues. But you don't get to tell me what I feel and whether it's true. Not after the last month we spent looking for you, not just our pack."

Our pack? He doesn't have a pack.

"And I swear, if you say you don't have a pack I'll dial Scott." but he doesn't have a pack. "You do. You're ours. Not Amadio's, not Yao Feng's. Ours." he flares his eyes, there and gone again, severe in his mission to convince. 

Ours.

A word so simple and for all that holding a force proportionate only to a gravitational pull.

This is a glitch in the matrix, there's no other explanation. The thought must show, Liam narrows his eyes. Then something else must show - his outrage is softened by worry. 

"Shit." he looks like he's fucked up regarding something Theo isn't privy to, glances at the pillows at the head of the bed, haltingly extends an arm. "I won't take anything. I promise."

Theo stares at the limb in incomprehension, feels his chin tip down. True to his word, Liam doesn't leech the emotions from him, just guides him to lie down, does so himself as well and they're face to face. He tugs a sleeping shirt from under his pillow he must have placed there while Theo was taking care of the wolf hair, to wipe whatever he can from his front and hands, tosses it somewhere behind him. What's all this about? 

Theo waits for him to do something, anything, but Liam doesn't. He holds Theo's hands, caught in between his. That's all he does. Theo waits. One minute, turns two, turns five. He's closed his eyes, less agitated now with the combined scents of them that have created a thing that's only theirs.

"If I can't convince you with words, can I show you?"

That's. Not what Theo expected. Liam usually isn't the one to change the serious topics, especially when he can't get through to Theo. That's Theo's move.

Theo's eyelids flutter, but, "Keep them closed?" so he complies. And, "We don't have to do anything. It's your choice."

Meaning: this time, if we start something I want to hear you say it and read your signals while you've left them uncovered so I can make sure you mean it.

He can say no, retreat and repeat this fiasco tomorrow. Or he can stop running. 

To possess and be possessed, the animals' constant repertoire. He's only ever believed he can be possessed, that nobody would let themselves be possessed by him. It's not about ownership or staking claim. It's about give, take and receive. Thus far he's only scarcely given and mainly taken. And in this instance Liam wants him to receive. Wants Theo to believe he deserves to receive. 

"And what about Liam? You don't trust him with you."

He wants to. But unless he tries, he won't find out. That's the root of the fear - ignorance is bliss. He didn't want to be proven right again, not about this, not about Liam.

"Okay." he swallows, letting out a sharp exhale, in a way dispelling his thoughts like dust. "Show me." 

Liam says nothing. His fingertips run over the knuckles of Theo's hand, take his palm to trace the lines there. They map out every finger, skim down to his palm to his wrist. Liam's other hand joins in, to hold Theo's upright while an index finger goes over the blue veins of his wrist that go up his forearm. His entire palm travels further downwards after, languid, to sear Theo's forearm with his body heat. Up and down, up and down, stirring the hairs there. Next pit stop is the elbow, the same one he had to insert a cannula in after Theo went offline for four days after his deactivation spree and scared the shit out of them. Liam stays there the longest, painting circles over the thin skin, like he sees the puncture wound and is trying to erase it. He then lays Theo's forearm flat to the bed, to continue up his shoulder, fingers skimming over the definition to retrace the muscle groups.

Next should be the clavicle connected to the shoulder. Yet, Liam doesn't breach that zone. It takes Theo a little to find the answer. This is a confirmation area. 

"Yes." he tells him, and the venturing hand continues on its way to his trapezius muscle, strokes over his collarbone. Theo unfolds some, leans his head further into the pillow to bare his neck. 

He hears Liam exhale, choppy, and the pads of careful fingers trace a horizontal line over his throat, then go back over it like he's smudging a stain away. Theo realizes it's the spot where—

He grabs Liam's wrist just as Liam is about to retract his touch, the telling jump of his heart at the elevation in Theo's pulse giving away his next move. "Still a yes." he confirms, grip sure, and he holds on for two more seconds, lets go.

Liam continues after a short bout of hesitation, splays his whole palm over his larynx and thyroid, smooths the skin. He goes over one jugular vein, then the other. Next he follows the slope leading to his Adam's apple, swipes up towards his chin. Theo shifts his head back more. Since he's on his side Liam can go over only one side of his lower jaw. To correct this he once more takes a hold of Liam's wrist, as well as his forearm, curiosity carrying from Liam's scent at the action. Theo goes to lie on his back, uses his contact points to pull Liam along with him. He hears Liam go up on one elbow, the sheets rustling with it, feels his body heat next to his untouched arm from how close his chest is to it. 

The uneasy prickling of dread, anger and panic have fled the ship. His blood is steadily becoming magma again, chest coming up and going down at a faster pace. 

Liam puts a palm to Theo's untouched shoulder, moves to lean over him. Theo readily splays his thighs open for him, tips his head back into the pillow, hands fisting the sheets at his sides. On full display, handing all his trust. Liam cups his hips to lift them, settles them on his lap, thumbing at his hip bones before continuing his mapping in the order he started. He goes over to the other arm, the one he hadn't had access to, carries out the same touches he did with the other until he's gotten to the clavicle. He flattens his hands over both collarbones, curls them and brings them upwards so that the backs of his fingers follow Theo's jugular veins again, the tips of his thumbs smoothing his lower jaw bone, from chin to each edge, up to the hinges. 

Theo's never been touched this much before without it being a violent ordeal. The sensory overload starts piling, Liam stopping every time he feels it near the horizon, waiting for a rasped out yes. 

When Liam starts mapping out his torso Theo is a goner. He's been hard since before he laid on his back, arches when twin sets of index and middle fingers hold his nipples between them. Not even pinching or twisting to give more friction. From the start of Liam's initiated sensual form of torture he's kept his touch light. Theo needs more. 

His palms find Liam's wrists again, cover the backs of his hands, press them down so they lay flat over his chest, press them down further to convey what he wants. His eyes staying closed means he can't see Liam's face or his reaction with how his scent doesn't morph into anything but the faint sparks of arousal seeping through the clamp Liam has on it. Liam doesn't move his hands but to lightly intertwine their fingers, to squeeze Theo's.

Show me, he means. Guide me, he means. 

So Theo does. He guides the scorching palms over his ribs, following Liam's pace from before, down to his abs, drags them up in the same manner, down to retrace their previous path. To the sides, to clasp them around his waist, goes up and down again a few times, and back to his middle. Instead of trailing them to where he needs them the most he stops at the hairs leading down that area, swivels his wrist to direct one of Liam's hands to his lower back. He curls the fingers of the palm just over his belly button until he feels blunt nails dig into his skin, back automatically arching into the sensation with a low moan. 

His own hands have started shaking now, chest heaving. Until a very important detail blazes like a neon sign in his head. 

"Hmm?" Liam voices out as Theo stops. He startles when Theo snaps his eyes open all of a sudden. His own are entirely glazed over, pupils leaving little to no space for the blue irises, lips parted. Theo's a little amazed at his self-control when he's also, evidently, as influenced as Theo himself. 

However, the underlying problem still stands.

The humor seeps in when it's such a ridiculous question: "Do we even have lube?" 

A beat, two, Liam's cheeks bulge and they both bellow startled laughs, shocked that they're laughing while they're in the middle of Liam's little tantric exercise. Theo reaches for the sole nightstand by the bed, no dice.

Liam pulls him up to sit on the bed, stupidly handsome with the mischievous grin plastered on his face while simultaneously painfully hard. He ticks his brows up suggestively, "Divide and conquer?" 

Theo snorts, "Divide and conquer." 

He grabs the cover to throw over his shoulders, heads towards the bathroom. He finds it on the first try in the overflowing medicine cabinet. Jesus, he doesn't even know whose house they're currently residing in. Probably one of Yao Feng's many isolation nooks, given by the overly expensive shit in here—along with the dead giveaway in the form of a small collection of highly specific lip balms that can't belong to anybody but Declan, Yao Feng's emissary, what with how many times Theo has seen him twirl one on video calls with the Feng pack. 

The weight of it all hits him after he's closed the cabinet shut, once he's taken the bottle. He hears Liam muttering from the kitchen after he'd washed his hands, opening and closing random drawers.

"Nope. Nope. Definitely not in here. Nobody would put their lube with the pasta, right?"

Theo tunes it out. When he's not under the influence of those gentle hands he can think, which was precisely what Liam wanted to avoid. He braces himself on the sink, doesn't look at his reflection. The cover starts falling from his shoulders. He barely catches it in time, goes to the door case of the bathroom to throw it near the bed, which is when Liam comes back empty handed. 

He takes one glance at Theo's face and the easygoing air evaporates. He erases the space between them, zeroes onto the bottle Theo is holding, doesn't stray his eyes anywhere else before he catches Theo's. 

"Again, we don't have to do anything. At all. It's your call, whatever you say." he states, a reminder for Theo, one he doesn't really need. 

"I know." Theo steps closer. "I want to." he swallows, rephrases it as, "I want you." 

They both shudder. Liam pulls him in to land a dirty kiss, all tongue and teeth, holds him by the hips to turn them around and starts walking Theo backwards, pushes him onto the bed. As they're still trading kisses he takes his sweatpants off, kicks them away. They separate, with Theo halfway sitting and Liam on his hands and knees over him. Theo crawls them back, up to the pillows, hand anchored to Liam's nape to drag him along, clutching at the bottle of lube. They resume their previous position, with Liam between his open legs, like there was no commercial pause whatsoever. 

Liam plants his hands on either side of his head, rearranges himself on his elbows to suck Theo's lower lip into his mouth, to slide his tongue back between Theo's wet lips. Theo moans, wraps his legs around him, arching into the motion when one of Liam's arms strays to wrap around his waist and pull him further into the cradle of his hips. When there's no fabric between them his cock slides against Theo's ass. Liam grinds down into him, making Theo sever the kiss with a gasp.

"I say we leave the tantric sex for future us and get on with the program." Theo cants his hips up, to glide his cock against Liam's abs.

"Fine by me." 

Liam lowers his head to suck at his neck the moment Theo tips his chin up for him, takes the bottle of lube Theo is still clutching, flicks the cap open. A hot wave goes down Theo's spine at the sound, fingers twisting into Liam's hair. Not long after two lubed fingers stroke over his entrance and Theo's so aroused he doesn't even care it's cold, the contrast of the temperature just amping him up. 

"Yes." he hisses through clenched teeth, feels Liam's smile. 

The finger slides in slowly, almost hesitant, almost like he's not that sure of himself and Theo's fighting to keep himself relaxed to the intrusion. Liam moves, cautious in his pace, sucking mark after healing mark into his throat, every next one fiercer than its predecessors. As turned on as he is, he doesn't rush the process of stretching Theo open. Theo finds it in himself to appreciate the attentiveness, but he needs things to speed up a bit.

"Remember when you told me to communicate? I'm communicating that I'm not made of glass and I want you to fuck me maybe sometime this century." Liam bites with pointy teeth at the sass, thrust his finger in hard. 

Theo melts into the bed, gasp inaudible. Once he's set a faster pace Liam doesn't disappoint. He lines up a second finger within the minute, times it so that he's dragging blunt nails down Theo's chest as he inserts both. They go in smoothly. Theo's hips jerk into Liam's ministration, stutter when he scissors them and starts stroking at his walls rather than just doing the in and out motion. 

"Fuck," Liam whimpers. "I can feel it, I can feel the way you open up for me." 

Theo twitches around his fingers, grinds himself down onto them and clenches his insides to receive another choked out whine. They play this back and forth of teasing to see what turns on the other further, how to rile each other up more than they already have. By the time two fingers turn into three Theo considers forgoing them, considers but ultimately reconsiders. The same way Theo is extending his trust to Liam, Liam is returning the courtesy, trusting Theo to permit Liam's way of showing him how to not only give and take, but how to also receive. So he doesn't say it, welcomes the third finger with a groan, insides fluttering as they adjust, and when he's not as stretched yet he can differentiate each and every one of Liam's knuckles bumping and rubbing against his inner walls. 

This is where Liam leans over him again, waits for the yes and contrasts the now sure and dexterous twist of his fingers with feather-light kisses over his throat. A scissoring motion softened by a benign and wet suck. A thick stripe licked into the delve between his collarbones. A hand in his hair to twist his head where Liam wants it when he presses a kiss, when he curls his tongue into Theo's mouth, runs it over his elongated teeth. 

"Liam." Theo lets out, bowing his lower back to arrange his hips, waits, waits and—

A strike of lightning going through his groin, up his spine, making his thighs shake. Liam leans back on his elbow, tilts his head and rubs the pads of his fingers over the mind-melting bundle of nerves, his strokes hard and unyielding. 

"Ah!" Theo's head goes back, vision swimming. His hands have dug themselves into Liam's shoulders, dragging down his back at the next stroke over his prostate. "Fuck, I'm ready. Liam, I'm ready."

Liam presses their temples together, "Okay, okay, just one sec." his fingers inside of Theo twitch, cause another cry to surge out of his mouth. "Shit, sorry." Liam sits up, not before pressing a kiss to his jaw, palms his hip in warning before pulling out. 

Jesus, he feels so empty without them, insides squeezing on nothing, hips jutting up. Liam's palm slides up to his lower ribs, down to his hip, repeating the motion until both their heart beats calm some. He slicks himself up with the remaining lube on his other hand with a high whimper, halts, grasps Theo's cock to give him a few pulls. 

Theo knees him in the side, bares his teeth with his chest oscillating from a low non-human noise, in spite of how his cock jumps at the attention. Liam smiles, pleased and relaxed, unhands him to pull him further onto his lap. And he waits, expression fond if winded by all the waiting they've both endured.

"Yes, fucking go already." 

And in the back of his mind he hears Liam's exhilarated go, go, go! and his just as enthusiastic slaps to the dashboard back when all the mass of emotions between them started forming.

Liam's smile becomes a grin, predatory, hungry. His cockhead bumps into Theo's entrance, pushes against the barely there resistance after the in-depth prep. Theo tries to twist and take him in one go, feel all of him inside. Liam grips Theo's hipbones, both to keep himself—but mostly Theo—in check. When Theo bides his time and makes a second attempt, the canine impatience surfacing, Liam braces a heavy hand over his lower abdomen with a resounding rumble, pushes it down into the muscles in a clear-cut command for him to stay.

That does something to Theo. His abs seize, thigh muscles flexing. The image of Liam over him, staring down at him while looking like he wants to eat him alive, between Theo's legs. Oh, the shit it does to him.

Liam's blunt nails dig into his skin, thumb this close to making contact with his cock, dig in further when Theo shivers and Liam feels the wave course over his skin. He then inches his hips closer to Theo's, sliding in just past the head. And he's not blind, Liam is as big as Theo is, which makes him not small in the slightest. He's so full from just the two inches or so, how the fuck is he supposed to wait patiently for the rest? The thought doesn't help him, eggs him on.

Liam is relentlessly slow, giving these growly sighs and high whines, from the restraint he's insistent on keeping. Once he's almost all the way to the root he leans forward, to take a hold of Theo's jaw—four fingers on one side, thumb on the other—beckoning Theo to open his eyes for him. The first thing Liam does is kiss him, sweet and short, then flares his own eyes to trigger Theo's natural instinct, which is to shift human green into arsen—cracked emerald green. Then Liam slams all the way inside, their hips in full contact. 

Theo throws his head back with a shrill gasp, one hand slapping the headboard to grasp it as his spine bows up, into Liam. His fangs and claws have popped out, chest heavy with the inability to take a deep breath. Liam covers him with his own body, leaning on his forearms with one on each side of Theo's head, and Theo tips his chin to the right a bit to convey how much he wants Liam's mouth on his throat right fucking now. Liam obliges, pointy teeth dig into his flesh, holding, hips churning in tiny figure eights, but not moving more than that and not pulling back, letting Theo adjust.

The bruises Liam sucks into his neck, paired with the feeling of fullfullfull and LiamLiamLiam, make his eyes rolls back, only hearing Liam panting in his ear—panting like it's taking him the last rational part of his consciousness to subdue him from fucking Theo's brains out—and god, those wet sounds each time his lips cease the sucking to lick a broad stripe, bite down with a rumbling exhale, then begin anew. 

"Okay." Theo mumbles, slurred and breathless. Another wet noise from when Liam stops sucking and raises his head to bump his nose against Theo's. 

Liam doesn't set a pace immediately, instead keeps kissing Theo, altering between short and closed mouthed to deep and dirty and scorching. Apparently he's been anticipating Theo moving first, in uncontrolled rocks going forward and backward, using that guide to follow along his tempo. Forward and backward, in small increments, then finally he pulls out further, rams his cock back inside. Theo's hand on his shoulder spasms, digs red lines in a downward motion, Liam arching back into it. It takes him a little but when he finds the angle where his cock drags against his prostate on every thrust in and pull backwards he doesn't relent, sending Theo into a panting frenzy at the soaring euphoria his brain goes into. It's still slow, but it's hard, each thrust rattling him and giving him the intensity he needs to stay anchored in the moment. Throughout it all Liam counters his deep thrusts with soft kisses and touches, creating a balance that distinguishes this as not just sex, not just fucking, not just the aim to find release. 

Liam drinks in every noise Theo makes, every expression he lets Liam be privy to. Theo plants his heels against the mattress, meets Liam's thrusts with his hips, slams them down until Liam's as deep as he can possibly go. Theo's cry, holding burred, not-human notes in it, fills the room.

"Theo." Liam gasps and buries his face into Theo's neck, Theo doing the same, biting into Liam's shoulder and Liam's movement stutters, his moan going straight into Theo's ear.

Their pace picks up and Liam lifts himself until they're face to face again, brushes a stray strand of hair off Theo's forehead, smiles. "Absolutely fucking gorgeous." he says, like he's thrilled he's allowed say it now, when Theo's not making them pretend there was never anything at all. 

The thought is eye-opening, in a way. Some of the times Liam had been Liam, the carefree and cocky teenager he is, was when Theo dropped the act, let them have a moment undisturbed by the usual need to deny it to Liam and spare him the attachment. So lost in his fear that Liam was developing non-platonic feelings for the reformed murderer he'd never really considered that by withholding the obvious spark between them, by smothering it every time it showed itself, he'd been also smothering a small part of Liam along with it. Choking it with his path on self-destruction happening right before Liam's eyes, helpless to do anything but observe—and any time he'd tried to do something Theo blew up for it and belittled his worries—with his deliberate detachment from everybody else, with his firm belief that he's unwanted if he isn't useful for something, so why not throw himself and his psyche under the bus for it when he can perform a small redemption where he's not hurting anybody but himself. Physically at least. He's never understood people's concern, taking it as anything but that, to better cope with the loneliness he could never admit plagued him day and night, one he'd single-handedly imposed on himself as a punishment. But he understands it now, just how much he means to Liam, even if he can't quite accept it yet.

Theo squeezes his eyes shut, under an earth slide of emotions. The salt in the air cuts Liam short, but Theo wraps his arms around him. "Don't stop, please don't stop." he whisper to him, the break in his voice too telling.

"Theo." Liam is Liam and words won't be enough for him, wants to look at his face and judge by himself.

Theo eases his mind with, "Not bad tears. I don't want you to stop." he swallows heavily, runs his fingers through Liam's hair. "Just—just don't stop." 

When Liam noses his cheek he leans into it, opens his eyes, nods at the inquiring sound with a faint smile. He feels… cared for. Wanted. It's confusing, disproportionate to everything he's ever known, but he can try, for Liam. He understands.

He pulls Liam down for a kiss, chaste and gentle. The tsunami of emotions is in the background. He'll deal with it later.

"C'mon." he cants his hips up, taking Liam all the way to the root again. Liam's eyelashes flutter, heat in his eyes renewing with the comfort that whatever passed Theo really did pass and wasn't a bad thing. 

In the end, he truly does end up fucking Theo's brains out. Apart from the tiny glitch of unprecedented contemplation he can't think anymore. It's all LiamLiamLiam, who's as close as Theo needs him to be, who reads him with uncanny precision and gives him everything to achieve this state. The feeling of being perfectly full, perfectly stimulated and perfectly caged in by Liam's bulk means the knots in his gut tighten at a rapid pace. 

"That's it, Theo." Liam murmurs against his lips, having taken notice of how Theo's clamping up, insides working to pull the thickness in him further, further. "Wanna feel you come like this."

He doesn't even need to touch Theo's cock, he's that far gone. A harsh thrust is all it takes. 

"Liam!" he whites out with the orgasm, squeezing Liam inside him, hears his own cry, as well as Liam's through the haze. It's bigger than last one, all-encompassing and nerve melting. Liam fucks him through it, doesn't change the speed, just the intensity to give him every bit of pleasure he can, bites into the place where neck and shoulder meet when he releases, too. Theo feels it, the pulsing and the heat coating his insides, shudders with it, moving his hips with Liam's tiny jerks while he keeps himself fully-seated until he has to pull out. 

They both wince, winded and panting. Liam collapses on top of him, face mushed into Theo's throat, Theo's thighs around his middle. Their hips keep twitching for quite some time with how their softening cocks are also pressed together. Liam's cradling the back of his head when he's finally back in his body, stroking, and landing sloppy, barely there kisses to any expanse of skin he can reach. He turns them on their sides when the over-stimulation of their groins in close contact really does get too much.

"Okay?" he asks, cheeks rosy. This is the most laid-back Theo has seen him since Thanksgiving. 

"More than." Theo smiles, eyes crinkling with it. Liam's face breaks open. This might just be the first time he's seeing this type of smile on Theo. His own mouth splits into a happy grin, his scent brimming with satisfaction that Liam's the one who brought him to this state.

*

Their afterglow kind of gets ruined when they both remember that only Liam knows Theo is back and that while they've been doing the horizontal tango, along with some impromptu therapy sessions, the rest are still unaware of his recovery. 

Scott nearly faints when Liam serves him the good news, while Bree starts crying and laughing, hiccuping through her entire conversation with Theo, then Alec is laughing and crying when Theo calls him next. The rest find out through Derek, while Malia calms Scott down, and that includes Lucia and McKane. 

They don't leave immediately, have to clean up a bit and Liam won't rest until Theo has eaten a proper meal. On the ride back to Beacon Hills, since the little house—courtesy of Yao Feng as he'd predicted—is more than a few hours away, Theo and Liam don't know what to do with themselves. Well, Theo doesn't. Liam's inability to keep his hands to himself has now reached another dimension. He's constantly scheming ways to touch Theo. Bumps of their hips, trailing fingers over the back of his hand when Theo hands him something, leaning in to hook his chin onto his shoulder when he wants to see what meme Bree has texted him or when Theo wants to show him a picture Lucia sent. It takes Theo an hour to stop being startled by it and by the time they're back in Beacon Hills he's used to it, doesn't shy from it. 

Liam makes him stop the car five minutes away from Scott's house, to kiss the breath out of him.

"I just know I'm not gonna be able to do that for a while when they bombard you. Let me have my fix." he grumbles, goes back to twining his tongue with Theo's.

Theo shoves him back to his seat a minute later. "We're not having car sex when we'll reek of it, Liam."

Liam blows a raspberry at him. "You do know that they've probably had a bet on when we'll finally cave, right? And, you still smell like me." the last bit causes them both to flare their eyes.

They grin at each other and Theo starts the truck. 

The front of the McCall house is piled with cars upon cars. So much so that they've taken up the space in front of the surrounding houses with no abandon. Bree hurls herself out of the front door before he steps out of the car, and he meets her halfway. 

His back pops from how hard she crushes him. 

"Hey." he tells her, returns the embrace.

"Hey your-fucking-self. We thought you were dead dead, you asshole." when she pulls back some her flared eyes are near spilling over, but it's from happiness. Then she sees his flared ones. "Oh. They fixed them." she wonders and grins. 

The Baomi Jiaopai are the culprits for his old eyes permanently coming back after the memory re-acquisition jump-started the process? Figures. 

Bree laces their fingers together, gives Liam a fist bump when he joins them. Theo's missed this part. Somewhere between the search party they've thawed the ice and have grown closer, the same way Liam had quickly warmed to Alec after Nolan went after Theo, Argent and the Sheriff. Now, after he knows how Liam feels about him and after he's accepted it, he's finally getting new things. It was never about anchors and him worrying his stability would vanish if Theo's attention went on somebody else, it's because he wanted it mostly to himself. It's always the simple answer that fits.

Liam catches his eye, scratches at his cheek when he notices how Theo's have narrowed, but he's saved by the mass of people that come out of the McCall house. 

Theo can't lie, he's kinda dreaded it. Liam spent the ride here making sure he couldn't think about it too much, pointing his mind in other mundane directions. 

Stiles explodes first, "Oh my God, of course he's gonna stand there like a lone raccoon!" 

Lucia pushes Scott between his shoulder blades, since he's standing as still as a statue. By the looks of it she wants to come to him first, but doesn't. Because she isn't his—isn't his alpha. Scott's gaze latches onto his face, and Bree steps away just before Scott brings his arms around him.

"Welcome back, Theo." he tells him, voice all wobbly, leaves his hands on Theo's shoulders when he pulls back. He gives a dimpled smile, looking him over as though he can't believe Theo's standing in front of him. Theo claps his hands to his elbows. 

The rest of the pack filter through, but Theo doesn't even notice it on time, nor Malia, who hugs him next. Brief, followed by a whack to one shoulder. 

"Don't ever get yourself caught again." she grumbles and Theo is too stunned to speak. 

"I'll try."

Then it's Alec crashing into him, just as crushing in his embrace as Bree was, holds on for way longer. It takes the effort of more than one person to make him let go. It's surreal, he loses focus with all the people piling about, with how they pull him to the house. So many personally come to him that he's beyond flabbergasted. Liam stays by his side the entire time.

Argent claps his shoulders, pulls him into a very brief embrace, but enough for Theo to catch the relief, along with something softer creeping into his scent, on him. "Welcome back." he says and the Sheriff follows his lead, his palms a bit heavier and eyes crinkled at the corners with a muttered Jesus, kid, followed by a shake to his head. Both of them, along with Liam, guide him to the living room, one of Argent's hands still on Theo's shoulder, that squeezes when he finally lets go.

"Just so you know, I'm revoking all of your rights to shift for the foreseeable future." Lucia barks out, after she's also added to the hug count and has shoved an entire basket overflowing with fresh coconut muffins at him.

"I second that." McKane points at Theo, standing with one hand on his hip. "Under no circumstance until you've passed the two month mark, you hear me?" 

"Better yet, make it three." Danny chimes in, also with one hand on his hip. 

"Four." Yao Feng adds, with both hands on his hips. Declan, his emissary with the lip balm obsession, gives him a once over and rolls his eyes with exasperation that reaches Pluto, pinches the bridge of his nose. 

"That's just gonna stress him out, you idiot." he mutters, lands Theo an apologetic look for the drama. 

"Two is optimal." and Lydia's statement cements it, her vote counting as at least ten. Argent and Melissa nod along.

Fucking Christ, the McCall living room has never been this packed, ever. Theo's head swims with it to the point where he's getting dizzy. The rest of the McCall pack are closer to him than the rest, the exceptions being Bree and Lucia. Liam is next to him on the couch, Alec on the other side and Bree above him with her elbows rested on the back of the couch, forearms brushing his neck. 

Her next sentence stills some of the air. "You're swinging by soon, right, now that the war's over? There's plenty of room and I want you to finally meet Naya properly. Big bro said it's fine by him." she flippantly shoots out, like the little instigator she's always fucking been. 

She's testing it, the thing Liam told him less than twenty-four hours ago—You're ours. Not Amadio's, not Yao Feng's. Ours.—and what Bree's been speculating. Theo's not even mad, he needs to know, needs the confirmation. Liam might perceive him as pack, but that doesn't actually make him pack to the rest.

Scott and Co share looks among themselves, then aim them at Bree and even Corey turns to stare at her. Not unkind, just with something else.

The change in the room, from Scott having flared his eyes, evaporates the air in Theo's lungs. 

"He'll stay here for a while, if you don't mind." he says, his smile easy, but also something else.

Malia continues, "He's not getting any field trips passes until he can prove he's capable of not getting himself killed the second he sets foot elsewhere."

And surprisingly Stiles takes the ball, "And knowing that asshole, the moment there's no eyes on him the first thing he'll do is shift." 

"At least there's no more labs to neuter." Lydia muses, raising her perfectly shaped brows at Theo's incredulity, Derek tilting his head in a go on, try and get out of this one, I dare you manner from where he's next to her, Scott and Malia.

"Not to mention," Mason snorts, points his thumb at Liam. "Is so not letting him out of his sight for at least a month." 

To which Corey adds, "Or until the end of time." and ignores Liam's affronted hey!, purses his mouth at him, Alec and Nolan adopting the exact same expression at the exact same time.

A glitch in the matrix. 

Liam presses his thigh against his, then his elbow knocks into Theo's. When Theo slants his gaze up at Bree she's the embodiment of the cat that got the cream, looking away from Scott, down to Theo. And that settles that, her eyes say.

Theo zones out after that little tag game, still getting used to the amount of people around him when he's spent, from what he learned, a month on the run and just over a week with Liam in the secluded house. He's so tired he falls asleep, wakes up with his head on Liam's shoulder, Liam himself having a hushed conversation about the Marvel Cinematic Universe with Bree, now next to Liam, and Alec, now on the carpet. 

He doesn't tune in his hearing, gets lulled into another nap while he listens to the buzz of their voices and for the first time since never he feels like he belongs, like he's home. 

*

Liam abducts him to his house and Jenna and David shamelessly aid him in it. The others are getting ready to go home to get some more clothes for the slumber party they want to conduct, while all the remaining alphas and their plus ones manage a plan to set a gathering in the near future to celebrate, both Theo's return and the end of the war, without consulting Theo on the matter. Bree shoves him in Liam's direction with an enthusiastic little dance. Stiles takes a look at the exchange, turns to Scott, then snaps his head back again with dinner plate eyes.

"Oh my God!" he bellows, slaps Scott repeatedly. "Scott, oh my God, smell them!" he grabs at Scott's shoulder, shakes him about like a rag doll while he points at Theo and Liam. Derek slaps his hand down. Scott sucks his lips in to keep himself from laughing, cheeks dimpling.

Those two knew the moment they caught a whiff of Liam and Theo's scents, and how Theo smells more like Liam than he ever has, both on the outside and, the most telling detail, on the inside. Which, well, can mean only one thing.

Mason gasps, also points at Liam and shrills, "No way! You—and you didn't tell me?" 

Jenna and David have taken an interest, share a look over the rims of their mugs of coffee, eyes crinkling. Liam makes a cutting motion in the air, alongside a comically terrified face and Mason lifts his phone, points at Liam a second time, then crosses his arms with an, admittedly, funny expression. Liam is going to have an adevnture gossiping with him later.

Malia, most likely one of the first to notice the development, reacts with, "What, like they haven't been torturing us for months with their," she wiggles her fingers Theo and Liam's direction in an undefined way, her curled upper lip saying everything else for her.

Lucia adds, "And about damn time, the planets have finally aligned for us to have a moment's peace." to which Alec and Bree cackle, loudly, holding each other up while bent at the waists. 

Liam pulls Theo away shortly after. Jenna and David only aid them until they reach the door, share a look.

"You know, you do owe me a rain check." Jenna states, barely keeping her face innocent. David can't mange her level of self-control, lets a sharp gust of air through his nose before he straightens and nods along, with tears in his eyes from how much he's holding his laughter in.

Which brings them to now, Liam and Theo alone in Liam's room. Liam gulps, and Theo sees the shiver going over him, skin erupting in goosebumps from its intensity. Theo takes a step forward, bunches his palm in Liam's shirt and stares down at him. Liam's hands go to his shoulders, sliding up to cup each side of his neck, trembling.

Theo remembers,

Because I can tell you all about the dreams I've had about them. Dream after dream of you fucking me senseless in my bed, with those same eyes flared and staring down at me, watching me with your fingers in my mouth.

He flashes his eyes and Liam gives an unsteady whine, wobbles on his legs, holds himself up only through his grip on Theo. He arches into him when Theo slides his hands under Liam's shirt, to clasp them firmly around his waist, thumbs on his hip bones, the rest splayed on his lower back to dig into the valleys of his lats. 

"I want you to fuck me so bad." Liam tells him, breathy like they already have started fucking. He smells like it, too, the thick scent of heady arousal having materialized itself into reality within seconds. It was there on the ride here, but now it's compellingly overpowering. 

"You have lube?" and they both laugh at the insinuation of the divide and conquer moment.

Liam twists one hand into his hair, grips tight. "Oh, yeah, no problem with that. I also have a very comfy bed right here, with a distinct lack of wolf hairs on it."

Theo pulls him closer, making Liam lose his footing. "Hmm, tempting." his voice has lowered, practically intoxicated by Liam's scent, clear with his soaring desire, unmarried by fear or pain. 

Liam folds first. He yanks Theo down to his mouth, first bites at his lower lip, then slips his tongue into his mouth. Theo gives as good as he's given, slots their hips to grind their cocks together, maddeningly slow and tantalizing. There's a need to rush, want no longer forcefully contained by Liam and his urgency to show Theo all his—all his love. 

Fuck, the word still makes him lightheaded. Seizes his chest in a good way, in the best way. 

"Stop thinking." Liam breathes, digs his thumb into the corner of Theo's mouth. "I want you here and now, okay? No past or future. Just here, with me."

Theo tip his chin down once, eyelids drooping a little. "Fine by me." 

"Good, 'cause every time you try and go somewhere else I'll forcefully drag you back to me." 

Is it normal for that sentence to hit him right in the groin? Theo doesn't contemplate it, brings Liam back into a slick kiss, starts waking him back to the bed, pushes him on it when the back of Liam's knees hit its edge. He pulls his shirt off, Liam not far behind and doing the same, his deft fingers then digging into the muscle definition on Theo's torso. Where Theo had been so pliant back in the house now he wants to devour. To pin and lick and bite and fuck Liam so good he can't differentiate directions. After all the anguish Theo has caused him, he wants, if for a few moment, to completely erase its traces and heft Liam into a place where there's only carnal pleasure and them. 

He crowds Liam, on his hands and knees. Liam's eyes grow dark, playing along with the cat and mouse game, crawling back when Theo advances, scant space between their faces the entire time. When Theo has him where he wants him he covers him entirely, groaning as their bare fronts make contact. Probably should have taken off the jeans as well, too late to ponder it. 

His gaze strays to Liam's throat. He wants to press his mouth and dig his teeth in, for a moment bemoaning that no matter how many marks he puts on the soft expanse of skin, none of them will stay. Liam bares it for him, with a high sound, spreading his legs into the motion, putting himself on full display.

Theo drives their hips together, angles his head to the side and bites. Liam’s cracked moan resounds in the room, in his ears. He goes boneless on the mattress, heaving these little whimper-filled pants, before he crosses his ankles behind Theo's back, uses the leverage to thrust his hips upwards. His hand on the back of Theo's head presses Theo harder into him, throat clicking from a swallow with the heavy sucks Theo stimulates him with. Theo licks a slow stripe from his clavicle to the edge of his jaw, bites at it, then pivots down to the skin behind Liam's ear to land a kiss.

"In that—in that parking lot, when we smoked together that time you let me come with you, I wanted you to fuck me on the hood of the truck." Liam shakily blurts out, with the hint of a smile in his voice. 

Theo huffs a breath out of his nose, "Well, I've also wanted to do that, among other things. Add it to the bucket list."

Liam laughs, then hisses when Theo bites down with sharp teeth. "Fuck, yeah, like that." so Theo does it again, and again, and again. 

Liam likes being manhandled as much as Theo does, he finds out. Likes being pinned by Theo's weight, likes it when Theo directs him wherever he chooses, likes the sure and heavy presses of his hands on him. He's also impatient, starts unzipping Theo's jeans and drags them down until Theo shifts away to get them off entirely. By the time he's done Liam has pulled his own halfway down. Theo stops him, tugs them the rest of the way as an excuse to run his hands over his feverish skin and the hairs there. It's what he continues doing when he re-positions himself back between them, flares his eyes to stop Liam from whining about how unhurried the pace is. 

The reaction is instantaneous. Liam's eyes glaze over, cock twitching against his abs, lips parting and wheezing out a rattled breath. The same way Theo has Liam where he wants him, Liam also has Theo where he wants him. Theo gives him some more. The fingers of his right hand travel all the way from Liam's calf, up his shaking inner thigh and abdomen, over his throat and, finally, they settle at his chin to curl around his jaw. He keeps them there and grips at the bone under them, not with a lot of force, just enough to see Liam's pupils expand and leave a very, very thin ring of blue. Liam tips his chin into it, and when Theo's fingers move he's already opened his mouth, accepts two fingers deep into it. Theo curls them down onto his tongue, and Liam's lips seal right around them, suck them in, hips jolting upwards.

He whines, the sound stemming from his chest, thighs holding Theo hostage. Theo leans on one hand over him, their cocks flush together, pulls the fingers out to slide them back in with a little more force at the same time he pulses his eyes. 

Liam grips the arm connected to those same fingers, eyes rolling back into his skull before he closes them. He's saying something, his mouth filled up meaning Theo can't understand him. But when he tries to extract them, worried that Liam doesn't want this anymore, Liam opens his eyes, flares them at him and with the hold he now also has on Theo's wrist he shoves them in as deep as they can go. They reach the back of his mouth, curl downwards, into his throat, and that high and fucking pornographic sound Liam emits makes Theo's cock throb and pulse along with the noise. He has to squeeze his eyes shut as his other hand grips the sheets by Liam's head. He thought being on the receiving end was intense? Well, good to know he was wrong.

Theo does remove his fingers from Liam's mouth, replaces them with his tongue. Liam is a live wire beneath him, twisting, withering and seeking all forms of contact, like he can't find a comfortable place because he's so high-strung with his want. 

Theo's head drops down, lips to his ear, "Lube." he pants. 

Liam smacks his hand to the nightstand, to find the round, protruding wooden part he needs to pull in order to open it, hand acting like it's possessed. 

"Would have saved us so many arguments if I knew I could shut you up with just my fingers." he murmurs, grinning at the idea. Liam shivers, glances up at him from where he'd turned his head to look at the contents of the drawer.

"That's not fair. Have you seen your hands and your long fingers?"

Theo blinks, pulls a face. "They're just hands, Liam." he raises the one still partially wet with Liam's saliva, drops it back down. 

Liam sputters, also traces its movement, honed on it like a magnet, "They're all strong, and the perfect shape, and, and veiny." he takes Theo's wrist, holds that same wet hand, and he bites over one of the protruding veins on the back of it. 

Theo hisses, arm muscles tightening. The corners of Liam's lips are tilted up in a cocky smile, maintaining eye contact as he twists the hand, opens his mouth and places the index and middle fingers right back onto his tongue. Theo feels the sleek muscle contract, feels his own guts spasm along with it. 

Liam then pulls them back, "Ha!" he throws his journeying hand up in victory, shakes the half-full bottle into Theo's face. 

"You're fucking insufferable." Theo sighs, but it's fond.

Liam grins up at him, flutters his eyelashes and laughs at his own antics. The moment Theo takes the bottle his mirth alters into arousal again, like a switch, as he tracks Theo opening it and pouring some onto his hand. His thighs spread, squirming some. Theo palms one of them, soothing him with Liam's brand of placating up and down, up and down, continues doing it when he rubs his lubed up index finger against his entrance. He pulses his eyes, waits for Liam to heave out a breath before he starts sliding it in.

"Oh." he twitches. "Feels way better than when I do it." Theo slants him a look whilst he's pushing his finger slowly all the way inside. "Don't give me that face, you've no idea how much pent-up frustration I had after long exposure next to you."

"Yeah and who always insisted on being everywhere I am, hmm?" Theo twists his finger, Liam's insides twitching and clenching down on him. 

Liam bites his lower lip, all of a sudden shy with it. "Can you blame me?"

Liam is way too coherent. Theo wants to render him unable to produce a single word with meaning. He drops down on one forearm, noses at Liam's chin, uses his free mouth and teeth for better purposes than banter until Liam liquefies into the mattress with it. It doesn't take long before Liam inches his hips up, taps his knees to Theo's ribs.

"More." he gasps, one hand on Theo's back, the other on his head to keep Theo's mouth on his neck. 

Theo readily complies, circles index and middle finger into the sensitive skin around his entrance, slides them inside at an easy pace. He strokes at Liam's walls, avoiding the protruding bundle, focusing only on stretching him out for now. He sucks angry purple bruises into his neck, same way Liam had done to him when their positions were reversed, the previous marks gone before he's even done making the next. It gives him something to focus his arousal into so that he doesn't rush things, and Liam guides him to every new point he wants Theo to lick or bite or suck at, having lost himself in the sensations.

Two fingers soon become three and this is where he's met with most resistance, the muscles of the ring tight with the unused stretching. 

"Okay?" he kisses at the edge of Liam's jaw, fingers only half-way in. 

Liam's eyes are pinched tight, breathing through his nose and willing his body to relax. "Yeah, just… I've never gone past two." he murmurs, licking his lips, pressing them together tightly.

Theo already figured that one out. He keeps his hand fixed, not inching in any direction, bows his back to lean over Liam and makes use of his other palm. He licks at one nipple, stroking Liam's outer thigh, gripping the lower side of it. Liam is holding himself motionless to keep the fingers inside him still, too. He doesn't let Theo pull them out, knees his arm with a low growl when he tries to. After a few slow minutes of Theo just caressing him, of multiple kisses to any expanse of his skin he can reach, the ring starts relaxing. 

Liam finally starts canting his hips into Theo's fingers. "C'mon, gimme more." 

Theo ever so carefully pushes them in all the way, eyes on Liam's face. It's lax, open, in a daze of pleasure. No pain. Then his eyes snap open, flared, a high keening noise sounding from him when Theo flares his and twists his fingers. He blindly reaches for Theo's free hand on his thigh, brings it to his mouth and sucks two fingers into it, to give himself an outlet at the amount of stimulation he's under. Theo moans along with him, both sets of fingers twitch and Liam cries out, muffled. Theo strokes at his tongue, strokes at his sensitive walls and the small gathering of nerves he'd ignored, circling the pads of his fingers over it. Liam whimpers, grip on his wrist tight, mouth sealed around him tighter. He starts fucking himself on Theo's fingers, sucks at the fingers in his mouth, cock leaking profusely onto his abdomen. 

He frees his mouth, trails the wet digits down his throat, leaves them there. "Fuck me." he orders, claws springing out when Theo teases at his prostate again. "Fucking fuck me, Theo."

He looks like he can barely see, drunk on the dizzying lust. 

"Please," and he leans up when Theo moves forward, to kiss the next words out of Liam, to meet his tongue when Liam's lips drop open for him. Theo removes his fingers, slicks himself up with the remaining lube on his hand, hissing with the touch to his aching cock. Liam hands him his own shirt he'd thrown on the bed. 

"I'm gonna need this for later." Theo tells him, winded and panting just as hard as Liam is.

"No, you're not. I wanna come just by feeling you inside me." 

And Theo's done for. He wipes his hand down, lays his palms on Liam's moving legs that are unable to decide whether they want to stay wide, to grip Theo tight or to slide down on the sheets. 

Liam speaks before Theo can even ask, "Can you please just fuck me?" he's shaking all over with his desire, gripping onto Theo tight with clawed hands, hips jerking in tiny movements. 

Theo positions himself, starts pushing in. He's still so tight, blistering-hot and velvet soft, inner walls contracting around him. The sweltering pit in his gut clenches. They hold eye contact, and while one of his palms stays on Liam's hip, the other he uses to take Liam's hand and flatten it over his own chest, in a silent reminder to breathe, to urge him into following Theo's rhythm and anchor him. This isn't just sex, he reminds himself. Liam is drowning in background emotions just as much as Theo was their first time together, which in turn makes his body too sensitive at times. So it's up to Theo to alleviate it until he's ready, until they can give in and let go. 

The claws are five poking points over his pectoral muscle, dig in a bit as Liam's fingers twitch when Theo is halfway inside. Theo squeezes his hand, once Liam can actually breathe again. He props himself onto his elbows, leaving them face to face, breathing the same air and sharing it, and Liam's arms go around his neck, never looking away. He swallows hard with a lupine whine, fights to keep his eyes open when Theo's finally inside all the way to the hilt.

Liam's scent takes on a deeper, more pronounced note in it. "Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck." he reaches down to form a tight circle around the base of his cock, to stave off what must have been an impending orgasm. Theo waits, presses their foreheads together, panting with the need to move. He doesn't, it's up to Liam when they start. 

Liam pulls him in, until Theo's crushing him with his weight. Theo buries his face below his ear, taking a lungful of his heady scent, high on it, really. It takes a little over a minute for Liam's hips to start moving, his insides clamping onto his cock and releasing, clamping and releasing, teasing. He turns his face to glance at him, is met with a toothy grin and barely opened eyes. 

Theo wants to make this last, but with the way they're already this worked up it's not that big of a probability. He starts moving, slowly pulling back, thrusting back inside hard. Liam wants it to be intense, to banish whatever prowling phantoms are left, and Theo gets that, felt the same way. He'd said it himself, he wants Theo to fuck him senseless and thus far his every action has supported those words. 

Theo spends a few minutes searching with his head cocked and his hearing stretched, monitoring each sound and each thump of Liam's heart. Liam seems to understand what he's doing, lower back bowing a bit in an uncontrolled move that also helps Theo.

"Ah!" Liam cries out, startled by the sensation, claws sinking into Theo with his neck bared as he throws his head back.

Liam looks up at him, mouth red and parted. Theo tugs his hips closer to his, to heft his ass onto Theo's lap, his spine further arching with it, making Theo align to hit his prostate all the better. Liam's head goes right back into the pillow at the following thrust just as he'd re-angled it to watch Theo, as a moan tears out of him. 

"Fuck yeah." he mutters, shuddering, tips his chin down to see Theo staring down at him. He must also see some of his own dreams playing out behind his eyes, eyes going half-lidded and glassy. His insides squeeze him, Theo moaning at the feeling, lower back bowing forward a bit. 

He tries to keep the pace steady, he tries, and Liam is having none of it, hinging his hips to fuck himself right onto his cock with his entire body aiding the process, peeling at Theo's sanity. At a particularly harsh thrust he whines, having lost the battle to keep his eyes open - they roll back and stay closed. Theo himself is starting to see smudged, almost double, with how good Liam feels around him, with all these little noises that won't stop ringing in his ears, and with the slick and lewd sounds they make when Theo fucks right into him, just make him dizzier.

"Just like that, just like tha—ah!" the high-pitched moans are by far his favorite, they come out at sporadic intervals, accompanied by other noises that are more lupine than human, that make Liam's chest rumble and shake against his own. 

There's just one detail to complete Liam's retell of his dreams. Theo groans, gasping at nearly every breath by now, bringing himself up on a shaking forearm and trusting that Liam's legs, wrapped snugly around his middle, will keep Liam stable without Theo's hands on his hips. He bites with his fangs at the bobbing Adam's apple, just barely stays upright at the heat around him clenching, bites at Liam's chin.

"Liam," he pants, shivery, the clean fingers of his left hand stroking over the tendons in Liam's throat, pulled taut and tempting. Liam's eyes slit open and widen in realization with a shudder that slams into Theo, too. 

Theo calls out the shift, flares his eyes and Liam's mouth drops open, welcoming Theo's fingers. He pushes down onto Liam's tongue, catches a garbled moan in the form of his name. He ups the intensity of his hips, stirring Liam's insides with every single one, and with just a few more Liam seizes, hands digging into Theo's back as he drags them down with brute force, clamps around him and fucking screams. The sight of him arching almost all the way off the bed—head back with his throat laid-out, coming untouched with Theo's fingers still in his mouth—slams into him in the literal sense of the word. Theo's lungs and abdomen constrict, head going back with a loud moan tumbling from his open lips and he presses his hips hard against Liam's, the quivering thighs around him pulling him in tightercloserfaster. He loses a few seconds with the force of his own orgasm, keeps making small, uncontrolled thrusts, pinning Liam down with them and fucking Liam through his high to prolong it. Liam, in his own haze, is doing the exact same motions, eyelids fluttering.

He's still shaking when Theo's coherent enough to think of pulling out. He won't let go, keeps him fully seated while he still hasn't started flagging, walls still spasming around him, still fucking himself onto Theo. Theo keens at the sensation, feels himself let out a last spurt. All at once, the thighs keeping him in place slump, despite all the tremors going over Liam's body. Theo gently pulls out, careful and slow, does the same with his fingers. 

"Shhh." he soothes, gets them on their sides and reaches for the discarded shirt that is thankfully still on the bed. He wipes them down to his best abilities, a palm on Liam's side the entire time. After that's done he wraps Liam in his arms, a hand stroking his back. It takes a while before Liam relaxes into him, flutters his eyes open. "Okay?"

"You took the 'fuck me senseless' to a whole new level right there. I'm fuckin' perfect." are his first words, slurred and lackadaisical. He still can't keep his eyes open, hangs an arm around Theo's waist and throws a leg over his hip with a pleased noise.

Theo cups his cheek, "We need to get cleaned up."

"I am not getting off his bed for at least an hour."

"It's gonna get nasty."

"Don't care."

"You wanna wake up uncomfortable?"

"I won't be when you're here."

Tara's heart stutters under his ribs, and Liam opens his eyes, his hand on Theo's back applying some pressure to inch him closer. His smile is blinding, happy and boyish. Content. 

"We'll figure it out later." he whispers, traces a finger over Theo's upper lip and leans in to steal a closed-mouthed kiss, pulls back. "I'm in a house." he starts and Theo's air leaves him. "Everybody I need is here. You are here. And I don't need to just picture it anymore, because I finally have it."

They fall asleep, curled together, in no hurry to wake up. And Theo's right where he wants to be: home.

Notes:

Thank you for reading and as always, I'd love to hear your thoughts or any criticism you have (if you recognize McKane and Danny from a certain TV show I loved back in the day, with a bit of an alteration, no you don't)!

If you have any prompts you'd like me to write, feel free to stop by at my tumblr.

I'm also planning on making this a little series, maybe throw in something from Liam's POV, along with Alec's settlement in the pack, if you guys are interested.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Trust fall