Hi! Apologies for being so late, I've been very busy.
Trigger warning: mentions of sexual assault
*
“So this kid's the real killer?” Mr. Stilinski asks, giving Scott, Stiles and I a sceptical look. We’re gathered around his desk, a mess of documents, pictures and notes everywhere.
“Yeah,” Stiles says.
“No,” his dad deadpans.
“Yes!” Stiles yells.
“No.”
“Dad, come on. Everybody knows that the police look for ways to connect victims in a murder, okay? So all he had to do is, like, look through their transcripts and figure out which class they all had in common,” Stiles explains.
“Yeah, except for the fact that the rave promoter Kara wasn't in Harris's class,” Mr. Stilinski says.
“All right, okay, you're right, sorry,” Stiles says. “Then I guess they dropped the charges against him?”
“No, you know what? They're not dropping the charges. But that doesn't prove anything.”
Stiles wants to protest, but his dad cuts him off immediately.
“Scott, do you believe this?” he asks.
“It's really hard to explain how we know this, but you just gotta trust us,” Scott says. “We know it's Matt.”
I think both Stiles and Scott expect me to talk and support them, but I stay quiet.
“Yeah, he took Harris's car, okay?” Stiles says. “Look, he knew that if a cop found tire tracks at one of the murders, and that if enough of the victims were in Harris's class, that they'd arrest him.”
“All right, fine. I'll allow the remote possibility, but give me a motive. I mean, why would this kid want most of the 2006 swim team and its coach dead?” Mr. Stilinski asks.
“Isn't it obvious? Our swim team sucks! They haven't won in, like, six years, Stiles says. “Okay, we don't have a motive yet. I mean, come on, does Harris?”
“What do you want me to do?” his dad asks. “I mean, Grace, do you have anything to add to this?”
I tense up.
If I told them about... what happened, Matt could be more easily be arrested. And maybe Mr. Stilinski would realise what kind of person Matt is.
“No,” I say. “I don’t.”
“We need to look at the evidence,” Scott says.
“Yeah, that would be in the station, where I no longer work,” Mr. Stilinski retorts.
“Trust me, they'll let you in,” Stiles says.
“Trust you?” his dad asks.
“Trust- trust Scott?” Stiles tries.
“Scott I trust,” he nods, and that’s how we all end up in the man’s car together. I expected Stiles to drive shotgun, but for some reason he wanted to stay in the backseat with me, so Scott went and took the passenger seat, but not before frowning suspiciously at the two of us.
“This better be worth it, Stiles,” Mr. Stilinski says, looking at us through the rear view mirror.
“Yeah, it will be,” he says before returning his attention to me and leaning closer, covering my hand that’s resting on my thigh with his own.
“You okay?” he whispers against my ear, letting me turn my hand around and intertwine our fingers. I nod slightly, looking down.
“I don’t want you to shut me out,” he whispers again, and I sigh. I’m gonna have to find a way to distract him, or eventually he’ll snap and get mad at me for keeping things from him. So I gently let go of his hand and let mine creep onto his thigh, watching his breath hitch and his eyebrows pull together into a small frown, as I lean closer to him as well.
“I’m not shutting you out,” I whisper, drawing circles on his jeans.
“Why- why are you doing that?” he whispers back, not making any move whatsoever. Wow. That went easier than I thought it would.
“Because I want to,” I mutter, pressing feather light kisses to his ear and the skin underneath, feeling it heat up at my touch. “Really fucking want to, Stiles. Are you going to stop me?”
A little sound escapes his mouth, it’s raspy and breathy and adorable, and thank god the radio camouflaged it enough for neither Scott nor Mr. Stilinski to realise anything’s going on.
As much as I started doing this to distract Stiles, I am also enjoying it a lot myself.
“N-not now,” he whispers. “Please.”
“When?” I ask.
“As soon as we’re alone,” he breathes, pulling my hand into his own to stop my touching.
“Good,” I whisper, moving away from him to look out the window, feeling Stiles glare at my back at the loss of contact. Well, he was the one who wanted to wait. Not my fault.
Maybe this is the only thing I’m good at.
Maybe Matt had a point.
*
“We look at the hospital stuff first, okay?” Stiles says once we’re at the police station.
“Why?” Scott asks.
“Because all the murders were committed by Jackson, except for one, you remember?” Stiles says.
“The pregnant girl, Jessica,” Scott nods.
“Yeah. Since Matt had to kill her himself, somebody from the hospital could've seen him,” Stiles says.
Oh Jesus. It only just hits me Matt’s pretty much a murderer now. Just one more thing to make me nauseous.
“I don't know, guys. I mean, look at this. There was a six-car pileup that night, the hospital was jammed,” Mr. Stilinski says, turning on the security footage from the hospital the night Jessica was murdered. The hallway’s indeed very crowded.
“All right, just keep going. Look, he had to have passed one of the cameras on that floor to get to Jessica, okay? He's gotta be on the footage somewhere,” Stiles says. We all stare intently at the screen, me lifting myself up so I can sit down on the desk and have a better view.
“Oh, hold on, stop!” Scott says. “Did you see that? Scroll back!”
Mr. Stilinski does as he says, until Stiles’ eyes widen.
“That's him! That's Matt!”
“All I see is the back of someone's head,” his dad retorts.
“Matt's head, yeah. I sit behind him in history. He's got a very distinct cranium, it's weird,” Stiles says. “Come on Grace, you recognise him too!”
“It’s the same hair,” I say weakly.
“Are you serious?” Mr. Stilinski asks.
“All right, fine, then look at his jacket, huh? How many people do you know who wear black leather jackets?” Stiles asks.
“Millions, literally,” his dad says.
“Okay, can we scroll forward?” Scott asks. “There's gotta be a shot of him coming at one of the cameras.”
“Right there!” Stiles yells after a while. “Stop, stop! See, there he is again.”
“You mean there's the back of his head again.”
“Okay, but look. He's talking to someone,” Stiles says.
“He's talking to my mom,” Scott gasps.
“Oh, wow,” Stiles says.
“Look, let’s get things straight,” Mr. Stilinski says. “We've got shoe prints alongside the tire tracks at the trailer site.”
“And if they match, that puts Matt at the scene of three murders. The trailer, the hospital, and the rave,” Stiles adds.
“Actually, four,” Mr. Stilinski remarks. “A credit card receipt for an oil change was signed by Matt at the garage where the mechanic was killed.”
“When?” Stiles asks.
“A couple hours before you got there,” his dad says.
“All right, dad, if one's an incident, two's a coincidence, and three's a pattern, what's four?” Stiles asks.
“Four's enough for a warrant,” Mr. Stilinski says. “Scott, you need to go to the hospital right now to ask your mother if she can testify.”
“Okay,” Scott nods.
“Come along, kid. I need to hand you some forms for her to fill in if we want to do this legally, which we do,” Mr. Stilinski says, getting up, Scott hurrying after him to the door, clearly high on adrenaline.
“Forms?” Scott asks.
“A lot of 'em,” Mr. Stilinski sighs. “Comes with the job. Okay, you two...”
He gives Stiles and I a stern look.
“Stay here. Don’t touch anything. You’ve done your job.”
And with that, he closes the door, Scott already outside.
It’s quiet for a while, and I take the time to stare at the desk underneath me and try to let everything sink in, even though it’s impossible.
“I hope she remembers talking to him,” I mutter. “Because-“
In a flash, Stiles is pressed between my legs, pulling me against him, kissing me hard with a hand in my hair. I have to lean my hand on the desk behind me so I don’t fall backwards, but once I’ve found my balance, I’m pressing closer to him, moaning into his mouth at the lovely surprise. What’s even more lovely is that Stiles’ hair is now long enough for me to grab onto, so of course I can’t waste that opportunity.
Once he leaves my mouth, he moves down a bit, kissing my neck and my jaw, his hands tight on my hips. Jesus, I’ve never seen him so, uh, enthusiastic like this, and I’m not gonna lie, it’s hot as fuck.
“Who told you you could do that?” he asks me, his voice low against my skin. “In the car? You’re a bad girl, always knew it.”
I pull him away from my neck and make him look at me, his pupils blown, failing to catch his breath.
“What you gonna do about it, Sheriff?” I smirk, curious to see if he’ll play along.
He gives me one long, burning look before leaning closer until he reaches my ear again.
“I’m gonna have to make an arrest, sweetheart.”
He makes our lips meet again, and now he decides the way we move together, leading like he never has before. All I can do is hold on and let it happen, and usually I wouldn’t like this, but it’s okay for once. More than okay. I wrap my legs around his waist and he digs his nails into my hips, stopping the kiss for a bit as he groans and takes a deep breath before meeting my mouth again, using some tongue this time, and my mind is going blank.
“So good,” he breathes. “You’re so good.”
Then he wraps his fingers around my wrist, and before I know it, I whimper and pull back, backing away from his touch, breathing hard as a wave of pure anxiety hits me.
“Grace?”
My hands ball up into fists and I stare at the floor, feeling so wrong and so bad all of a sudden.
“What did I do? What did I do? Why...” Stiles is staring at me, mouth open in shock, moving a hand through his hair. “I don’t- Grace, I don’t- are you scared of me?”
“No, no,” I shake my head, trying to calm down.
“Then what’s wrong? Why- what- what the fuck is going on?” he asks.
“Nothing, nothing,” I say, biting my lip to fight the fear and scooting closer again, holding the back of his neck to kiss him.
“No,” Stiles snaps, backing away. “Are you crazy? I’m not gonna do anything with you if you don’t want it.”
I meet his eyes once again, and that’s when I break down, wiping my own tears away as they keep falling.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, I-“
Usually, Stiles would wrap his arms around me immediately, but this time he just watches me with worry in his eyes. I think he’s afraid to touch me.
“He kept saying he was going to- and I-“ I can’t form sentences anymore. “I tried to stop him, but he just held me down-“
“What? What?” Stiles asks, eyes wide, his hands starting to shake as he places one on my shoulder.
“He had fucking pictures of me,” I breathe in. “On his camera. And then he locked the doors and I was stuck and he just jumped on me a-and kissed and touched me everywhere and I couldn’t stop him, I couldn’t-“
“Oh, Jesus, no, Grace. Fuck,” Stiles looks away, taking deep breaths in and out, trying to control his emotions. “No, no, oh my god, who the fuck did that to you?”
“Matt,” I say. “When you found me...”
“Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking kill him,” he says. “Fucking son of a bitch, I’m gonna make him pay-“
“I’m sorry,” I whimper. “I’m sorry, don’t be mad-“
“Jesus Christ, Grace,” he says slowly. “This psycho touched my girlfriend against her will and you’re telling me not to be mad?!”
“But he didn’t- we didn’t- I could escape before he...”
“You’re saying he was going to... he was going to rape you,” Stiles says quietly, looking at the floor.
“He said he was,” I mutter. “Sorry...”
“Why are you saying sorry? Jesus, if I knew what happened, I wouldn’t have kissed you like that. But I- I can’t- I wanna know what happened.”
“Fuck, I... okay,” I say, holding on to the desk for support. “I went to the cemetery to visit, you know, the people that died and when I was walking back, it started raining. Uh- Matt’s car pulled up next to me and he asked if I wanted a ride. So I stepped in.”
Stiles closes his eyes. This is difficult for him, too.
“I ended up looking through his pictures on his camera and... all of them were me or Allison, one of them in my bedroom-“
“Oh- Jesus,” he mutters.
“He asked me about you. He doesn’t like... us. Said I forgot h-how good it felt with him. Said he wanted to make me remember...”
Stiles is shaking, trying to keep his anger inside.
“So h-he pushed me down, and he kissed me, and he groped me, and he said I- he said I was a whore and he was gonna make it hurt and I was so fucking scared, Stiles, I-“
I cover my face as the tears start to fall, and it doesn’t take long before he wraps his arms around me and holds me tight.
“It’s okay now, it’s okay,” he says, rubbing my back, pressing his head close to mine. “You’re safe now. I love you.”
As soon as he realises what he said, he tenses up completely and stops moving, and my eyes widen once I process the words.
“Shit,” he mutters. “Fuck. I...”
“Stiles...” I just say, dumbfounded. He reluctantly lets me go and steps back, meeting my eyes with an anxious look on his face.
“I-“
The door opens and Mr. Stilinski steps in, immediately spotting my tearstained face and the tension between Stiles and I.
“What’s going on?” he asks, a surprised frown on his face.
“Dad,” Stiles says. “We need to report a crime.”
Once again, we explain everything to Mr. Stilinski, and I can feel him becoming mad as well as he listens, writing down some details for the police to look at later. Stiles stays by my side, soon returning to holding me, this time with an arm around my waist.
“So he held you down again after you punched him. A-and what did he say? Because at this point, your clothes were on, right? So was he making it clear that he wanted to- to rape you? Or did he just touch you?” Mr. Stilinski asks carefully.
“He, uh, he was pulling at my clothes. And he said he was going to... he was going to fuck me hard,” I say quietly, my face flushing with embarrassment. Mr. Stilinski visibly cringes as he writes it down, and Stiles’ eyes are burning holes into the desk.
“And he called you names?” Mr. Stilinski asks.
“Yeah,” I say, wiping my face when another tear escapes. “Bitch, and whore.”
“Actually, I called you a little whore.”
I flinch back and I feel Stiles get up when he sees who’s standing in the doorway, when he sees it’s Matt, but he stops moving once he sees the gun Matt is holding, and the way it’s pointed right at Scott, who’s standing in front of him.
“But I guess it’s close enough,” Matt continues, finding my eyes.
And this time, knowing he has a gun, knowing he has the kanima, he is almost unstoppable.