Father || Teen Wolf

06 - The Moth and the Flame

Wet leaves are a very difficult thing to peel away from one's skin - they stick to it as if they have been purposefully glued there. Jamie discovered that fact at a surprisingly advanced age, sitting in a mostly empty room all by himself. Attempting to get the last remains of a fallen leaf away from his right forearm kept him busy for quite some time, and he was more than fine with it, given that he had nothing better to do.

His fingernails were dirty as he scratched the leaf away, reddening the skin underneath. It didn't worry him much - he knew that if he looked away for just a moment, the skin would already have healed. The menial task kept his mind blank, which he was also perfectly fine with. Of all the things he had thought about lately, keeping a pristine appearance was easily the lightest.

He had tried resting for a while, but he was supposed to remain seated and the cold metal table in front of him was not comfortable at all. Resting his forehead on it had proven to be a bad idea, and using his folded arms as a cushion wasn't an option either - the table was so cold that he had immediately started shivering when his arms had touched the metal. In all his werewolfiness, he had been defeated by a table.

But not just any table. This one was bare, and had features that made it impossible for Jamie to forget where he was, exactly. He had seen enough cop movies to recognize the small metal bar, just there on the middle of the table top, that was meant to hold handcuffs. He knew that the mirror in front of him wasn't really a mirror, and that people were probably hiding behind it, discussing the strange case of the naked wandering girl.

The officers left him alone in the room for what felt like hours. Jamie could hear them through the walls, talking, discussing the case, making up theories about him, lowly whispering how suspicious it was that he had found Lydia when tens of other people before him had tried longer and failed. And not only that, but how had he stumbled upon the scene of the wrecked ambulance, mere seconds after the attack that had left the scene gruesomely bloodied? As officers of the law, none of them could believe it was merely a coincidence.

Jamie racked his brains to try and find a plausible explanation as to how he had found Lydia, and he found absolutely nothing. Admitting that Peter Hale had helped him was out of the questions, for glaringly obvious reasons. Another option was to say he and Lydia liked to go through the woods together, but he could barely remember where he had finally found her, exactly. Looking Sheriff Stilinski into the eye and muttering something along the lines of, "Yeah, sure, we often go near that random tree I found her at," was out of the question - Stiles' father would see right through him, and the light sarcasm would more than likely have no effect on him. The man had raised Stiles, after all. 

He thought about telling them the truth, too. They wouldn't believe him, obviously, but maybe they would deem him crazy and let him go. And then he would enjoy a nice stay at Eichen House, and maybe, if he stayed long enough he would turn actually crazy. Jamie didn't like that plan very much, but what he liked even less was the fact that he couldn't come up with anything better. 

How he wished Stiles was here with one of his half-assed yet somehow effective plans. 

Time was passing slower than ever when, finally, there were footsteps in the corridor. Jamie's ears picked up the sounds easily and he could hear the hesitation in the way the person gently placed their feet onto the ground, unsure, unwilling to go further. A familiar sigh, and Jamie recognized Noah Stilinski before the door opened.

The Sheriff looked even more tired than usual, but his eyes held a sparkle that signalled he was very much awake and ready to investigate. A thick folder in his hands, the man sat down. The papers hit the table with a metallic thud. Jamie held back a sudden jolt.