#deropher

A shocked expression flickered across Derek Hale’s face too, the werewolf’s nostrils flaring suddenly before his eyes flicked away from Chris’s towards the gas pump. In a low voice he said, “Honestly, at this point killing me would be the least awkward way to handle this situation, so if you could just get that over with quickly, I’d appreciate it.”

Chris couldn’t exactly blame Derek for expecting that to be the reason he was there. Him, and the six other hunters he’d brought with him for back up. Chris stayed silent for another long moment, trying to figure out exactly what a married man his age and a twenty-something werewolf did about a moments-old soulmate bond.

Clearing his throat he looked at the other hunters. “He’s all alone, I think I can manage him.”

“Mr. Argent –”

“You heard me.” He looked around at the hunters. “Go back to the house. If I need backup, I’ll be sure to call.”

Chris was sure that inevitably this choice would raise eyebrows with someone. Him sending his backup away? Leaving himself alone at a gas station, late at night with a werewolf just nights after bodies had started showing up? Unheard of. If anything happened to him, the men he’d just sent away could be killed for allowing it.

But, Chris was a soldier not a prince, no matter how Gerard tended to treat him.

When the other hunters had left – and Derek was done pumping his gas – Chris held up both of his hands and stepped towards the young man. “Two questions. I just need to ask you two questions and then if you never want to see me again, I’ll understand.”

Derek had his hands tucked into the pocket of his jacket, and turned to face Chris, his mouth pressed in a thin line. “Fine.”

“Are you the alpha?” It was a question that needed to be asked, though Chris had a feeling just from the way Derek held himself that that wasn’t the case. He didn’t seem like the kind of alpha that would be wreaking havoc. He seemed like a terrified young man.

“No.” Derek answered, eyes on the ground. “And don’t ask me to prove it.”

“That would be a waste of my second question,” Chris smiled. “Do you know who the alpha is?”

Derek shook his head. “I’m trying to figure it out too.”

Chris nodded. “Thank you for being honest.”

Derek sighed, his eyebrows drawn together, and he looked up finally, those hazel eyes - flecked with gold and green now that Chris was close enough to see them. “Can I ask you a question?”

Chris folded his hands in front of him. “Seems fair.” He studied the hunch of Derek’s shoulder, the way he kept his hands in his jacket, the hard set of his jaw.

“How are you related to Kate Argent?”

Chris frowned, his own brow furrowing at the question. “She’s my sister.”

Derek let out a long sigh and then nodded. “Got it. Thanks.” Without another word, Derek walked around to the drivers side of his car, glanced at Chris one last time, climbed in and drove away.

Chris didn’t know what to do with the information presented to him. He prided himself on his ability to compartmentalize, to keep his emotions out of decisions like this. And yet, as he watched the tail lights on the Camaro fade into the darkness, he couldn’t seem to figure out how he was supposed to go back to his life like everything was normal. LIke he hadn’t just run into his soulmate at a gas station.

He had so many more questions – how did Derek know Kate? What did Kate know about the Hales that she’d never mentioned? How much did his father know about the whole situation? How would Victoria react when – if – she found out?

He had more questions than answers.

And he wasn’t even sure if he wanted the answers.

--

Chris’s head was spinning. He was spinning and dangerously close to the kind of breakdown that hadn’t happened in years. He drove aimlessly around Beacon Hills, knowing exactly what – who – he was looking for but not sure where to begin to look.

He should be home. Home with his wife who’d been bitten by an alpha werewolf. Home with his daughter who in a matter of days would be losing her mother. Home keeping an eye on his father and trying to piece together how they were going to deal with the fact that one of his daughter’s classmates had been turned into a kanima.

Instead, he was alone, driving around Beacon Hills, following a tug in his chest because god damnit he deserved answers.

There was only one alpha werewolf in Beacon Hills at the moment. There was only one person who could have bitten Victoria, and Chris needed to understand why he’d done it.

He finally found the Camaro parked at an old rail depot, and pulled his SUV next to it. He rubbed at his eyes – stinging with unshed tears – before climbing out of it, pulling his gun from his holster before he walked into the building.

The depot was empty aside from Derek, who stepped out of one of the rail cars to stare at Chris in the near-dark. Chris wondered idly where the gaggle of teenagers Derek had also bitten were. Did they still have homes, have families to go back to? Or were they out terrorizing a town he was supposed to be protecting?

“You bit my wife,” was what spilled out of Chris’s mouth. There was an edge of hysteria to his voice. Confusion. Pain. He was closer to his own breaking point than he’d realized.

Derek leaned down to flick on a lamp and warm yellow light filled the dingy space. His arms crossed over his chest. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“I should kill you,” Chris laughed, bringing his free hand up to his mouth. He held the hand with the gun out, staring at it. “I should kill you right here for what you’ve done. It wouldn’t even break the code.”

“So why haven’t you?” Derek asked, eyeing the gun warily. That’s how they always were around each other. Wary. Nervous. Neither of them knew how the other thought or felt because they’re soulmates and they’re strangers.

“Tell me why. Tell me why my daughter deserves to grow up without a mother? Tell me what I did to deserve to lose her. She’s my wife Derek.”

“She was going to kill Scott.”

Derek’s tone was soft, sure, and so painfully truthful that it tore another hysterical laugh out of Chris’s throat. “What are you talking about?”

“Biting her was the only option I had. It was that, or kill her. I’m sorry, Chris. I didn’t do this to hurt you. I did this to save Scott.”

Chris slid his gun back into his holster before the shaking in his hands progressed far enough that he’d drop it. He folded both of his hands in front of his face, pressing his lips against his thumbs and looking over the tops of his hands at Derek. “She lied to me.”

Derek shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know what she told you. But, I’m not lying, Chris. You’d know it if I was.”

He would. He’d know because the bond in his chest that had led him to Derek would have told him. Chris felt unfamiliar tears prick in his eyes, hot and salty and foreign. His body was shaking and he was so unbelievably confused.

“Why would Victoria want to kill Scott? He hadn’t broken the code.”

“Y’know, I didn’t really stop to ask. But probably for the same reason your sister burned my family alive: because she felt like it.”

“Victoria isn’t Kate. She’s a good woman. A good mother.” Chris blinked rapidly to clear his vision, still staring at Derek. His instincts were screaming for him to turn away, hide his weakness, be anywhere but standing in front of an alpha werewolf in the middle of an emotional breakdown.

“I made a choice, Chris.” Derek’s voice had lost its disinterested edge. He’d stepped forward, head cocked to the side. “I made a choice between letting Scott die, or biting Victoria. I didn’t kill her. If she chooses to die instead of become a werewolf, that’s her decision. I didn’t do this to hurt you.”

Chris felt tears slip, hot and heavy. He finally broke his gaze, turning his back to Derek and wiping the tears away from his eyes. A million words flitted across his tongue; I don’t know what I’m going to do. Why is this happening? What did I do to deserve this? What did Allison do to deserve this?

A warm hand landed on his shoulder and Chris jumped but refused to react or turn. The hand felt like fire, the first real time Derek had ever touched him. It was nothing more than Derek’s palm resting on his shoulder, finger squeezing slightly, but it grounded him. Nothing made any more sense or felt any easier, but the tightness in Chris’s chest eased, and he felt himself draw in a shaky breath.

“I’m not sorry I did it.” Derek said, his hand still anchored on Chris’s shoulder, warm and real and a comfort. This was what it meant to have a soulmate. One touch from Derek felt more powerful than any time Victoria had touched him in almost 20 years of marriage. “I’d do it again. But I am sorry you’re hurting, Chris.”

Chris wasn’t sure what was worse: the fact that Derek wasn’t sorry, or the fact that Chris couldn’t bring himself to hate Derek for what he’d done.

--

Chris gripped the fence so hard his knuckles were white and the metal threatened to bite into the skin of his fingers. His knees felt weak, his heart shattered into a million tiny pieces. He tried to focus on breathing, on the simple in-out pattern, practiced and honed in hundreds of life or death situations.

In-2-3 out-2-3

Chris knew he had to keep himself together. He wanted to run to where Scott McCall sat holding his daughter’s body and see if there was any sign of life left, any chance that she could be alive. He wanted to hold Allison and tell her everything he’d never gotten the chance to. How proud he was of her. How amazing a person she was becoming. How he’d go through every painful part of his life over again just to have her in it.

And now she was gone.

Chris knew it in his heart. And Scott, as Allison’s soulmate, would have known best. Even without the banshee’s wail that had ripped through the night, the way Scott sat, numb and shell shocked, holding her body, told Chris everything he needed to know.

Chris was afraid that if he let go of the fence he’d go tumbling towards the ground. He was afraid he’d lose the carefully crafted persona of composure and competence. His daughter was gone. His wife was gone. He had nothing left to hold onto. Nothing left to live for, to fight for.

An arm, too warm to be human, wrapped around his chest from the back. A body, solid and real was suddenly right behind his. Chris knew instantly who it was and let out the shuddering breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He didn’t turn, didn’t dare take more than what Derek was freely giving, but he did lean back. He soaked in the heat of Derek’s body against the icy numbness of despair that was setting in.

“I’ve got you.” Derek’s other arm was wrapped firmly around Chris’s waist, Derek more than strong enough to keep Chris from falling to his knees with the gravity of his grief.

A lot had changed since that night at the gas station, where Derek had still been so lost in his own grief and anger Chris wasn’t even sure there was a whole person underneath the facade. A lot had changed since Chris had come to Derek begging for answers about biting Victoria. Derek was no longer an alpha. Chris no longer hunted. Now, he was a protector.

He was a protector and he’d failed to protect the person dearest to him.

Chris finally let go of the fence, his hands shaking as he cupped then over his face, drawing in long, uneven breaths. There was so much to do. They needed to figure out a cover story. He needed to coach the kids - Kira and Isaac and Scott – so that they didn’t reveal the supernatural. There were steps that needed to be taken before Chris could break.

But he took the moment Derek offered him. The moment of quiet understanding between two men who had collectively shared more loss than many would ever know. Chris let himself be comforted by Derek’s presence, by the warmth and the strength of his arms, by the quiet, even rhythm of his breath against Chris’s back.

When he was sure his knees wouldn’t go out from under him, Chris stepped forward gently. Derek’s arms fell away, though one of his hands rested on Chris’s hip, like Derek wasn’t quite sure that letting go was a great idea. (It was a terrible idea. Chris wanted to hide away in Derek’s embrace and pretend like he wasn’t facing the hardest situation of his entire life.)

“What can I do?” Derek asked softly.

Chris was afraid if he turned around, if he saw the softness, the genuine empathy in Derek’s eyes, he might break. “Stay close.” Chris said. “Please.”

The gentle brush of Derek’s thumb over Chris’s hipbone felt more intimate than a thousand kisses as the werewolf softly said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

--

Once the Nogitsune is gone, locked away in a wooden box carved by an emissary for an alpha werewolf whose spark no longer exists, Chris sat down at his kitchen table with the heavy realization that all he had left in this world was Derek Hale.

His soulmate. His perfect match. The person he was supposed to have spent his life with.

Derek had stayed close since Allison died, but Chris wasn’t the only person Derek had. Chris wasn’t jealous of that fact. He was thankful, really. Thankful that Derek had a pack who needed him, a pack who loved him. He had Scott and Isaac and Stiles and Lydia and Kira. And Derek had done his best as the pack elder to hold them all together through this storm of loss.

And they loved him for it.

They loved him in a way Chris wasn’t sure his shattered heart would ever be able to manage. They loved him in a way Chris wasn’t sure he deserved to love someone like Derek. Someone who made his mistakes and learned from them. Someone who had faced a life full of so much tragedy he nearly put Chris’s own to shame.

And yet, Chris looked up to hear the door open, and heard laughter – laughter – ringing through his otherwise empty apartment. Derek and Isaac stumbled through, laughing about whatever happened at the movie they’d gone to see. Isaac looked at Chris, flashed a small, grateful smile, and then excused himself.

“Movie was okay then?” Chris asked after a moment.

“Definitely not the worst one they’ve convinced me to go see,” Derek said, wandering towards the table and leaning against the corner next to where Chris sat. “Do anything exciting?”

“I finally ordered the postage.” Chris motioned to the jar that held the Nogitsune. “And reached out to a contact in France. They’re going to take care of it.”

“That’s good.” Derek smiled, small but genuine.

Chris felt the warmth, the comfort of having his soulmate near wash over him. He couldn’t stop himself from bringing his hand up and resting it against Derek’s hip. Derek’s all but lived at Chris’s apartment in the last few weeks. Staying close, being nearby for when things felt like too much. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Chris said quietly. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“It never gets easier,” Derek said. There was so much wisdom in what he said that it made Chris ache for the child Derek had once been. Had he ever known peace? “But I wouldn’t be here without people to rely on.”

“I’m sorry you got stuck with someone like me,” Chris admitted, running his thumb over Derek’s hip bone. “You deserve someone your own age, someone less broken.”

“That’s not how soulmates work. Besides.” A small chuckle escaped him. “I’m sort of broken myself.”

Chris stood up, shaking his head. “You still deserve so much better.”

“When I was 15, I had to mercy kill the girl I loved as she died from bite rejection.” Derek stepped closer to Chris, their bodies nearly touching, Derek’s hands at his side, brushing against the grip Chris still had on his hip. “When I was 16, I thought I found my soulmate. Turned out it was your sister, she just smelled like you. She burned my family alive.”

Chris looked away, letting his eyes fall closed. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop.” Derek said. One of his hands cupped Chris’s cheek, tilting his face back towards Derek’s own. “A few months ago I was manipulated by a dark druid masquerading as an English teacher. The details don’t matter but I can promise you this, Chris. You are what I deserve. You’re my mate. I may not have liked it, but I’ve never doubted it.”

They were so close that Chris could see the kaleidoscope of colors in Derek’s eyes. Their bond was singing with the truthfulness of his words and Chris was overwhelmed with the rightness of how the moment felt. “I don’t know if I can love you the way you deserve.” Chris whispered.

“You already do.” Derek said, leaning their foreheads together.

Chris let his eyes slip closed, let himself stand there in the moment, his daughter pushed to a corner of his mind as he reveled in being close with someone who made him feel whole despite the ragged edges and broken pieces. “Are you sure?” Chris asked, needing to know, needing one last confirmation that this was what Derek wanted. He wanted a broken old man with more skeletons than he had closets to put them in.

Derek didn’t reply with words, but the kiss he pressed to Chris’s lips was soft and sweet, genuine and giving. Somehow, despite the world's constant attempts to turn him into something sharp and dangerous, Derek had retained this softness, this capacity for love and forgiveness.