( XXXV. BERSERKER'S BONE )
SHE WAS BACK IN FRANCE.
The familiar cobbled pavements adorning the streets of France told her as much. The cafes and bakeries that stood by side and young musicians playing for spare cash reminded her of their summer there. Except, she wasn't really there, was she? No, this was a memory— and definitely not hers since Finley Nightly sat there with a small cup of coffee in his and a sandwich on the table in front of him.
Amelie wished it were real. She wished that she really was in France and she was sitting in front of her father who stared at the street with such a dazed look that made her want to cry. He was the same as she remembered him, with his beard and soft brown eyes that were always hiding so much thinking.
Amelie's figure stood in front of him, but he didn't see her, instead he smiled to a figure behind her that walked up to him. Angela, younger with longer hair, returned the wide smile and sat in front of him. Crossing her arms on the table, she gave him a knowing look, "I can't keep doing this, Fin."
"Why not? It'a not harming anyone," He mused, his voice breaking every bone in his daughter's body.
"You know why," Angela rose her brows. "I can't keep giving them to you, and I can't keep hiding it from your wife."
"It's not like they're drugs," Fin shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee and hissing at the burning sensation. "If my wife— who's a doctor, may I remind you, knew I've been taking these, she'd have my head."
"So why, Fin? Why are you so insistent?"
"Because," The man paused, taking a deep breath. "They're the only thing keeping him out."
Amelie woke up from a scream— but it wasn't her. Lydia's scream echoed not just in her head, in her soul. Her eyes flashed lilac as she scrambled upright, waking up the boy next to her abruptly. Her chest heaved as he put his hand on her shoulder, "Ams?"
"Didn't you hear that?" She panted, turning to the boy within disheveled hair and sleepy eyes, who shook his head in confusion as he slid his hand through her hair. "It was Lydia, she screamed."
He didn't reply, just looked at her worriedly. Shaking her head, she fell back into the bed, and turned to face him when he did the same. "I had a weird dream," She whispered and hummed for her to continue. "It was about my dad."
"Like a ghost?"
"No, a memory— but it wasn't mine," She explained. "He said something about taking drugs to keep Matthew out of his head."
"Did they work?" Stiles asked, shuffling closer to her and she shrugged, "I think so." The girl stayed quiet as she watched him lock their fingers together, her fingers fitting perfectly with his.
"We'll figure it out," He said softly. "We always do."
🥰
"Stiles, I swear if you don't wake up, I'll choke you with your pillow," Amelie shook his shoulders only for the human to groan out and turn around. "Stiles! You have an early game practice, remember? For your game?"
"Hi..."
"Hello to you too, now wake up!"
The boy mumbled something she couldn't hear and shoved his head in the pillow. "If I'm going to watch your games, you better not suck. And from what I've seen, you suck."
"Not gonna suck, you're gonna suck... Suck my—"
"Stiles!"
Amelie rolled her eyes but couldn't keep the grin at bay. She was here, in his bed and waking up him so that they could go to school together. Puffing her cheeks out on frustration, she looked around his room, her eyes landing on the dresser with all his frames. But, a special one caught her attention. It was a picture of her in her kitchen flipping grilled cheese sandwiches. She remembered how she kept telling him to stop so she could focus but all he could do was take pictures of her.
With a soft smile, she turned to the boy who was still asleep and pressed her lips to his. He kissed her back for a few moments before leaning back with furrowed brows and half-lidded hazel eyes. "What are you doing? I haven't even brushed my teeth yet."
"I don't care," She mumbled, and this time it was his turn to lean back into the kiss and hold her to him. She smiled through the kiss, their teeth clashing for a moment before she leaned back. "You're the best, you know that right?" She asked and his lips lifted before they were on hers again.
🥰
"Lydia?" Malia called out her friend, who sat next to her in class. "Lydia. Did you hear me? Look! I passed!"
Raising her brows, Lydia pursed her lips, "C-minus..."
"Your notes are great when they're not written in code," The were-coyote shrugged and turned to face the front only for Coach to slam a test paper on to her desk, marked with a large 'F' at the top."Disappointed, Malia— profoundly disappointed."
"I'll send you my notes."
Amelie tried to tune out their words, her eyes narrowing on the words on the board. The sentence didn't make sense since all she could focus on were the words 'Time of Death.'
Beside her, Kira poked a finger into her side. "It's over. The computers are off," Kira said quietly. "No more assassins. No more murders. No one's dying."
Slowly, Amelie nodded before turning to face the board again, "Not yet."
When class was over, the four girls headed out, the Anchor trailing behind them as she called out for the were-coyote, who stiffened visibly when she heard her name. "Yeah?" She turned around, trying to stay nonchalant.
"We're cool, right?" Amelie smiled sheepishly. "I don't want things to be weird between us, and I know we weren't the closest of friends to begin with, but I'd really like to be— close, I mean."
Malia kept her eyes narrowed at the Anchor, who grew uncomfortable under her gaze. "Yeah," She nodded as a smile now trailed her lips. "We're cool."
With a sigh of relief, Amelie smiled back at the were-coyote, who nodded for them to follow Kira and Lydia, who pretended to be engaged in a conversation as they waited, when they were actually casually eavesdropping on the girls.
🥰
It was weird how Stiles and Amelie grew so used to each other's presence. Just sitting next to each other or on opposite sides of the room, it just seemed the normal now. Just like now, how each one was doing their own thing— Amelie solving her economics homework and Stiles studying math, each in their own bubble together.
Just as Amelie was about to jump to the next question, the door to Stiles' room swung open and his father greeted them with a smile. "Drop what you're doing—" He motioned for them to get up. "I'm taking you both out to dinner."
"Dad, I don't think a man of your debts should be treating anyone to anything..."
"Well, there's one debt we no longer have to worry about," Noah raised an envelope and gave it to Stiles, who tossed it in his hand confused. "What is that?" Stiles asked.
"A letter of apology from Eichen House," His father explained. "Apparently, they've decided to forgive our debt due to— Uhm, well, you and Lydia almost getting murdered."
"They can do that?" Amelie asked with wide eyes. "They can do it, and they did it," Noah replied with a relieved smile.
"I've never been so happy to have almost been murdered!"
"Well, we're not out of it yet, but... We're going to be okay," Noah smiled at his son. "And, at least for the moment, I can afford to take my son and his girlfriend out to dinner." With an excited smile, Amelie and Stiles glanced at each other and stood up.
"I'm in the mood for chinese!"
🥰
After a very entertaining dinner with Stiles and his dad, which consisted of Stilinski sharing very embarrassing stories of Stiles, it was time for the lacrosse game— which Stiles was not prepared for.
"Hey, Chris," Amelie mumbled to the thirty-fifth voicemail. "I'm trying not to worry now as to why you're not answering my calls— I hope this is some kind of mid-age crisis or something, so call me when you can, okay?"
Before she ended the call, she sighed with worry, "Scott and Kira are missing, and this is worrying me because now I think you're missing, so please call me back or else I will literally book a flight for Isaac to come here and help me find you."
"Any luck?" Malia asked her as they walked up to the benches to watch the lacrosse game. With furrowed brows, Amelie shook her head and stared at her phone, hoping it would magically just locate Chris for her and tell her where he is.
"He'll call you back," Malia said firmly, as she greeted Sheriff Stilinski with a hug. Nodding, she hugged Stilinski as well when Malia let him go and they all started taking their seats. A daunting feeling overcame her, that her father figure was somewhere he shouldn't be and no one was there to help him.
Soon, the lacrosse team started to show up, Stiles and Liam taking a seat on the bench in front of them. Jumping from her seat, she walked down to them and placed an arm around her boyfriend's back. "Hey," She said as she put her head between them and placed a kiss on his cheek, "Good luck."
He mumbled a thanks as he smiled at her, returning the kiss on her cheek. "Can I get one, too?" Liam asked with an innocent look making her chuckle as she pat his shoulder.
"Dude!—"
"—For good luck!"
"Any news on Scott and Kira?" Amelie interrupted, trying to change the subject. "No," Liam shook his head glumly. "Something's wrong, I'm telling you."
Amelie glanced to Stiles, knowing they were thinking the same thing. "You just focus on the game, okay? Try not to lose control," Amelie said softly.
"Nightly! Are you playing?" Coach shouted as he turned around to them making her stand straight. "No, coach," She shook her head.
"Then, back to your seat!"
Without another word, the girl turned around and sat back down next to Malia, who asked her about Scott and Kira. The Anchor just pursed her lips and said, "Nothing."
As the game began, Amelie now realized why Stiles needed the extra practice— because he totally sucked. "Oh, god," She groaned, putting her face in her hands trying to not watch as he fell on his ass for the millionth time.
Grumbling, Stiles went off the field and back next to Liam, both of them arguing quietly. Amelie watched them with crossed arms over her chest, leaning back. Then, Stiles got up and headed to her making her furrow her brows.
"I thought you said you've been practicing," Amelie mused making him roll her eyes before saying, "We gotta go find Scott and Kira."
"Okay, let's go," Amelie nodded. "You want me to stay here in case they show up?" Malia asked, and they both nodded to her appreciatively.
🥰
"What the hell happened?"
Stiles and Amelie asked in shock as they entered Derek's loft— the last place Scott and Kira were. The apartment was destroyed to say the least, furniture broken into pieces and the walls cracked with impact.
Amelie felt like she was walking into a grave, this eery and frightening feeling sinking into her bones made her grab Stiles' hand on instinct. He turned to her worriedly but she shook her head as she kept looking around them.
"It was supposed to be a date..."
"And they were both here?" Amelie asked and Braeden, the woman who saved Isaac all those months ago, nodded, "And they're both gone."
Just then, Stiles' phone rang so he grabbed it with the hand not in Amelie's. "Hey—" He greeted Lydia as he set the phone of speaker.
"Scott's been taken."
"And Kira. We just don't know where," Stiles completed. The words made Amelie's stomach churn, like someone was grabbing it and squeezing it till it burst. Holding her stomach, she fell to the ground, black liquid erupting from her mouth that reminded her all too well of memories she despised.
"Mexico," Deaton replied on the phone— while something clattered on their end. Stiles kneeled over Amelie, rubbing her shoulders as she gasped in shock at the Berserker's bone that fell from her mouth.
"And, if you want to save his life, that's where you're going, too."