𝕭𝖆𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖚𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓
Thirty-five - 3X00
The Search

ERICA AND BOYD HAVE BEEN MISSING FOR TWO WEEKS NOW, AND PEOPLE ARE LOOSING HOPE OF EVER FINDING THEM FAST.

It seems like everyone, but Nat, has given up their attempts to find the two missing teens.

The search parties that were- at one point- full of volunteers and police squads, have soon dissipated, after just a mere two week of looking; tired and dejected from their lack of leads.

It's pathetic!

And, if looks could kill, each and every one of them would be six-feet under from Nat's glares alone.

How easily they will give up when two- as far as they know- defenceless kids are in need!

It's fucking insane how quickly they stopped looking, eager to let the two teens become a distant memory!

The police keep insisting that they probably just ran off together. They keep spinning the star-crossed-lovers story- one that even Erica's own parents support, despite knowing Erica's feeling towards girls and (lack-of-romantic) feelings about boys.

It makes Nat want to throw up.

Erica's parents are standing in front of cameras, fake tears streaming down their cheeks, as they spew sob-stories about how Erica is 'their beautiful, little angle', and how, 'if she's listening: they miss her, and want her to come home'.

It's insane!

When the blonde girl is there, they never even notice her; they ignore her- shun her, even! But now that she's gone (and the local newspapers and reporters have taken an interest in it) suddenly, they're parents of the year!

Nat rolls her eyes, supressing a noise of annoyance at the thought of Erica's parents. There's no point in getting angry over people like them- something Erica had told her multiple times, on the rare occasion that they'd actually talk about her parents.

The more she thinks about Erica (which is always), the more she feels like she can't breathe; a heavy, unexplainable weight pressing down against her lungs, so harshly, that it feels like every breath is torture.

Because that's what it feels like for Nat without Erica: torture.

In a few mere-hours, Nat's whole entire world had crumbled at her feet. She had searched for hours through the rain for Erica and Boyd- but nothing.

She lost Erica.

Nat promised to protect her, and yet- like many things before-, she failed.

Erica's gone.

Gone.

And she has so many questions about it.

Is she okay?

Does someone have her?

Did someone hurt her?

Is she with Boyd still?

(God, she hopes so. She doesn't want Erica to be alone.)

Did they find the other pack?

...Will she ever come back?

She will, Nat thinks firmly, Erica wouldn't just leave her!

She wouldn't!

Nat blinks heavily, pushing back the stinging feeling of tears that sear at her eyes, begging to be let free, and takes a deep breath (ignoring the pain she feels while doing it- because every breath without Erica hurts- every thing without Erica hurts).

Nat steps closer towards a notice board, her fingers curling tightly around Erica's 'missing' poster, her face staring back at her unblinkingly.

Even in a picture, Erica's brown eyes shine brightly, her blonde hair curled perfectly around her face, and her lips turned up in a sultry smile.

Nat wants to kiss her.

She wants to wrap her arms around her and hold on for dear life.

(Once she finds her, Nat is never letting her go again. That's for certain. She'll never make that same mistake again. Ever.)

Nat gently lets the poster slide out of her fingers, before pointedly turning away from it.

Staring at a picture of Erica and pouting won't help her, she needs to actively look for her- she needs to get answers.

Nat looks across the street at the large grey house, that seems to loom over every other house on the street, practically screaming power.

She almost scoffs at the sight- even their own house demands authority!

Fucking Argent's, man...

The door to the house opens, making Nat turn away slightly, pretending to look at the other flyers that are scattered precariously on the board (purposely ignoring Erica's beaming face this time).

Chris Argent steps out of the house, his keys swinging in between his fingers as he locks the door up and moves towards the SUV parked in the drive.

The car pulls out a few minutes later, speeding off down the road without even looking in Nat's direction. Good.

She lifts her head up, facing the big house in front of her head-on, and swallowing back the emotions of want and regret that fill her chest.

She falls back into the familiar blank-façade she's been wearing since learning of Erica's disappearance, not wanting anyone to see the volatility that runs through her blood in waves of pain and anger.

'Emotions are a weakness, Natty.' Atticus whispers faintly in her ear, sending cold, prickly shivers down her spine. She pushes back the dull voice (and the traumatic memories that follow it) into the dark crevices of her brain and instead, focuses back on to her original task: getting answers.

If she wants to know where Erica and Boyd are now, she has to go back to the start of it all: the Argent's basement.

All of this leads back to them. They have the motive, the means, and (as much as Nat hates to admit) the brains to do it.

And It's no secret that the Argent's hate Derek's pack; but is it enough to kidnap and hold two newly-turned innocent teenage werewolves captive?

Absolutely. Nat has no doubt about it.

If what Stiles has told her is true- and she's inclined to believe so- it was Gerard who had kidnapped him, Erica and Boyd. Stiles told her that Gerard was the only person they ever saw. No Allison, No Chris, no henchmen- just Gerard.

But, how could he have done it alone?

The simple answer is: he couldn't have.

But he did have the Kanima, Nat's mind supplies, before shaking off the idea as quickly as it came to her, Jackson was 'dead' around the time, Stiles- and possibly Erica and Boyd- were taken, but it couldn't have been by him...

But that means there has to have been someone else.

Gerard couldn't have acted alone against them.

It wasn't possible.

There's no way he would've been able to catch two werewolves- maybe one on a good day, but not two.

He had to have had help.

But who?

It wasn't Chris, for starters. She saw the disgust on his face at his father's actions. And, as much as Nat dislikes him, he seems to be the only one (except for Allison), who upholds his family's honour code. He even said he let them go; so with that information in mind, Nat doesn't believe for a second he would've helped his father beat and imprison three teenagers for no reason!

And, It couldn't have been Allison either! While she was on a revenge spree for her mother's death, she knows Erica and Boyd had no involvement in it whatsoever, and so wouldn't hurt them.

She was after Derek, not them.

And, most of all, Allison wouldn't do that her. She knows how much Nat loves Erica, and there's no way she'd hurt either of them like that!

So who is this mystery third person, if not them?

Seems like she's got her work cut out for her...

Nat forces herself across the street at a quick pace, her eyes firmly attached to the house in front of her as though if she turns away from it, for even one second, it might disappear.

She can't afford to lose any more time- she has to find Erica. And quickly, at that.

Her eyes flicker around her, making sure no one else is in sight, before she carefully unlocks the Argent's back gate and slips into the garden with practiced ease. The familiar pattern makes her skin tingle with excitement, the ecstasy and adrenaline-rush that she used to get while stealing something big back with her father, sets in her chest.

Once she gets into the garden and around the back of the house, she relaxes slightly, there's no way anyone can see her now. The only way someone could see he is by looking out of a window from inside of the house- so, if things do go to shit, with Chris out of the house, it's only Allison here- if she is even here...(Nat isn't entirely sure where the young-huntress is exactly, as no one's seen her since the showdown at the warehouse with Gerard and the kanima- and Nat's been way too busy searching for Erica and Boyd to check up on her...).

The only reason Nat hadn't out-right asked Allison to let her in, is because she's afraid the girl will say 'no', or worse: tell her dad that Nat's been wanting to look around their house for clues about Erica's location- and the last thing Natalia needs in her life right now, is Chris Argent following her around and observing her every move!

Nat bends down in front of the door, pulling out a small, compact picking-kit from her back pocket, and slowly extracting the tools she needs to unlock the door.

She fiddles around with the tools, her spare hand reaching up to tightly grip the handle in anticipation- she's ready to finally get some answers, after two-whole-weeks of radio silence.

A triumphant grin slips onto her lips as a sharp click rings out.

She's in.

She slowly pushes open the door before creeping into the house, her feet making as little noise as possible against the black-and-white tiled floors.

The eerie silence of the big house causes her to shiver again, a wave of unwelcomed goose-bumps rising against her skin.

A cold-chill engulfs the house; the pristine countertops looking as though no one's ever even inhabited the house (let alone lived in it for three months now), it's all...unusually clean.

Probably trying to hide the fact that they have a torture room in their basement, Nat muses with a bitter grin.

As much as she hates too, she has to admit, they're pretty good as keeping their cover...

Nat stalks around the house- that she'd purposely memorised the layout of, during one of her and Allison's movie nights- with expert ease.

She's done this loads of times- sneaking in and out of houses, that is. Though, she normally leaves with a few extra items than when she arrived. This time, however, she isn't sure she wants to take anything from the cold, elegant house. It'd probably be haunted or something, any way, Nat reasons, mentally shrugging and purposely ignoring the taunting calls of the expensive silverware in the drawers beside her.

Her eyes narrow in determination, when she spots the door to the basement. She steps towards it, her pace quickening now that she's found what she's looking for.

A loud creak echoes throughout the house, causing Nat to stop suddenly, holding her breath on instinct.

Another creak sounds, and then another, and another, until the sound is practically above Natalia.

It seems like Allison is home, after all- unless, it's someone else who decided to B&E the Argent's at the same time as her...Either way, if Nat gets caught, it'll be awkward...

Nat lunges for the basement door, pulling urgently at the handle in a desperate attempt to open it.

It doesn't move.

She silently curses, before stepping away from the door, as another- much closer- creak sounds out.

Nat has to move- and fast, at that.

Allison's coming down the stairs, and soon- if Nat doesn't find a place to hide- she'll find Nat standing there like an idiot in her hallway!

Nat turns, spotting a door directly opposite the basement and jumps towards it, almost crying in relief when it opens without any protest. She slides into the room, only noticing it's a bathroom until after she gets in it.

With bated-breath, she waits patiently for the footsteps to pass the room, the soft patter of shoes reassuring her it's Allison and not some other random, low-life criminal.

The foot-falls stop for a second, causing Nat to tense up, before the girl continues on on her way with a soft hum.

Nat breathes out a sigh of relief, slowly opening the bathroom door ajar, so that she can peek out through the gap.

When she doesn't see the slender figure of Allison, she shoots a look towards the basement door, silently calculating the multiple ways that this can end- and with annoyance, she figures most of them end with her dead, an arrow piercing through her heart.

Nat reaches into her pocket and pulls out her tool-kit again, closing the bathroom door softly as she does so, giving her enough time to shift her tools into her hand and make a plan-of-action.

She pushes her ear against the bathroom door, straining to hear for any sign of Allison, and when she hears nothing but sounds of rummaging in the kitchen, she makes her move towards the basement once more.

Dropping gently to one knee, she pushes her tools into the lock, her eyes shifting every now and then from her work to the direction of the kitchen. She silently prays, to anyone who's listening, that Allison stays occupied for a little while longer as she quickens her pace, moving the tools around with skilful precision, until she hears a sharp-click resonate from the lock.

She almost cheers aloud when she pulls the door open, but instead opts for a silent fist-pump in the air, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to her presence in the house.

Nat wastes no time in stepping into the room, closing the door behind her gently and flipping the hatch on the lock, successfully locking herself in the Argent's basement- okay...so maybe she didn't really think about this as well as she should have...

She faces the room, heaving a large breath and pushing thoughts of her escape into the back of her mind- she'll worry about that later...- before descending down the steps into the main part of the basement. The room's fairly large- prefect for kidnapping two innocent beta's and a defenceless teen, Nat thinks darkly- the floor is a dark shade of grey, and if Nat looks close enough, she's sure she's able to see spots of blood on it (she doesn't dare take another look at the floor, purposely keeping her eyes up and away from it, and pushing any thoughts of Stiles' now-partly-faded-injuries away from her mind).

A large table is placed in the middle of the room, pieces of paper scattered all over it in messy piles, a massive contrast to the rooms upstairs, which seems to have been deep-cleaned of any dirt.

Nat makes her way towards the paper. She sifts through the pieces quickly, scowling when all she finds are house notices and bill documents.

She turns towards a set of drawers, pulling them out and quickly pushing the objects around, looking for anything at all that can give her a hint as to what happened that night with Erica and Boyd in the basement- maybe an ominous key with an equally as mysterious note? A super-secret, evil diary?

Nat'll take anything at this point.

Anything.

Nat steps away from the drawer with a growl of annoyance. She runs her hands through her hair in frustration, screaming internally at her lack of leads. Maybe she shouldn't have come here...If the Argent's had worked this hard already to hide their double lives, any leads of Erica's location is sure to have been cleaned and disposed of by now...

Maybe, she should just leav-

Nat's eyes widen, any thought of leaving instantly exiting her brain as she catches sight of a safe tucked away quietly in the corner of the room, it's black paint standing out against the cream colour of the walls.

If Nat wanted to hide...say, some super-secret-information about the supernatural, a safe would be the first place she would do it...

She steps closer to the safe, gently tapping her knuckles against the metal as she darts her eyes around the room for a key.

No luck, go figure, Nat thinks bitterly, things can't just be easy for her, can they?

Nat bends down to look more closely at the safe.

Seems like she has another lock to pick.

Nat's quickly getting pretty tired of this repetitive routine...

Reaching back into her pocket, she pulls out her tool-kit for the third time. Getting her tools in to position, she places her head against the side of the safe, straining to listen for the soft clicks that emit from its gears when she gets the correct number.

After four sharp clicks, she grins triumphantly, pulling open the safe in one fluid movement, unable to stop the thrumming of curiosity that encases her bones.

She immediately falters when she sees the inside of the safe; stacks of files and folders lie on top of each other, along with bullets that smells profusely of wolfsbane, (Nat tucks those safely into her pocket, not caring about whether or not Argent finds out about it), and stray newspaper clippings stick to the floor of the safe, crumpled with age.

Nat reaches out for the first folder, not at all surprised when she sees the word 'Hale' printed on the top of it in a sharp, bold font. Flicking through it, she finds a load of newspaper clipping of the Hale fire, and a bunch of other suspicious events that have happened in Beacon Hills- even Kate's death is in here, covered in blue notes of theories and hypothesis. So this file isn't Chris or Allison's, Nat notes, they were both there during it- so it's Gerard's, most likely.

She puts the large folder to the side of her, not at all interested in the coming-and-goings of Derek's family, before eagerly reaching for the next one. She freezes at the name on it, her hands hovering above it gingerly.

'McCall'.

Nat rips the folder out of the safe, her eyes widening as she flicks through the information they have on Scott and Melissa (and even Raphael!); they have in-depth-background checks on all of them, their blood types, relatives, ages, birthdays- everything!

But, that's not what worries her the most. No, it's the massive 'WEREWOLF' printed in red beside Scott's name, that does.

Nat chucks the file down on top of the Hale one, swapping it for the next file hesitantly, unsure if she wants to continue on with her search (of course, she does. She wants answers, no matter what those 'answers' reveal. She decided that before she even entered the house!)

'Stilinski', the tag reads.

Natalia doesn't pause this time to open the file, her eyes hungrily scanning over every detail. Reports of every crime Noah has ever solved, or been involved in, Stiles' school reports, and even Claudia Stilinski's hospital bills, fill the file. Natalia freezes when she sees her name in the file under 'associations', highlighted in red, an asterisk planted above it. Her eyes dart to the side of the page where another asterisk lies, under it, it reads: Reference number- 2008, Red-horns, Atticus Hayes.

Nat's breath catches in her throat at the sight of her father's name. She traces the words with her thumb, clenching her jaw tightly- of course, she knows what it means.

There's no way she could possibly forget the massacre of 2008- the day she finally realised that her father is a monster, and the day the Red-Horns officially got their name in the history books.

Blood covered the walls of the abandoned building the Red-horns were currently using as their base of operations. Screams echoed throughout it, blaring even after their hosts had bled out on the cold, hard floor.

The sound of a body hitting the floor, penetrates Nat's ears. She doesn't even flinch. She's used to it by now.

Blood covers the side of her face, smearing in with her hair and making it stick to her cheek. The blood wasn't her own- it never was. The blood was from her father's- Atticus', she reminds herself harshly, after everything he has done to her, he is not her father- victims.

This was the worst it had ever been. It was like he had finally just...let go.

Natalia didn't deny that her father was a cold-hearted brute, but to kill this many people in one week? It was monstrous. It was vile. It was disgusting.

And their blood is on his hands (literally and figuratively) as much as it is on Natalia's...

The massacre lasted two months. People called it the 'dark-age' in the Red-Horn's history, which Nat always thought was ironic because all she saw was colour.

The dark red of fresh blood. The light yellow and purple of bruises. The violent orange of fire- It was a burst of colours!

Those two long months brought pain and chaos to the streets of New York- police scrambled to catch them as the group grew bigger and bigger by the hour, recruiting people from all over.

That day, Atticus Hayes was named the most wanted man in America. His daughter, Natalia, while lower on the list (due to the lack of evidence of her involvement- she got very good at covering her tracks, after a while), was still a person of interest, due to their connection and her known-activeness in the gang.

Nat could feel her humanity and empathy slipping away with every second that passed. She watched her father kill and kill and kill. He even urged her to join in! He wanted her to get her hands bloody, he wanted her to feel the same glee he felt. Nat refused, using any chance possible to get away from the warehouse; that still haunts her nightmares, even to this day.

She was a coward. She ignored Atticus' victims as they pleaded and begged for her to save them from his wrath- she didn't. She never did, too scared of the consequences her actions would result in.

Coward.

The two months would've been longer, if Nat didn't send in an anonymous tip about their hideout, which ensued both her and her father's arrests, thus ending the months of terror for the citizens of New York.

She still remembers now how people had protested (always in daytime, no one dared to even utter their names at night) for their arrest- or death; whichever came first.

Luckily(-ish), for her, it was the former...

Nat takes a deep breath, pushing away all the thoughts of blood and fire, and instead focuses back on the weight of the file in her hands, which she drops in favour of picking up the next one.

She knows it's hers, before she even touches it.

She eyes the name on the front of the file in dread, opening it up and scanning its contents intently.

It states in detail events from Natalia's life; from her birth, her first ever known score on a heist, to all of her suspected crimes. It talks in length about Atticus and Maria Hayes and their backgrounds, but most importantly, in bold letters, marks Maria Hayes' cause of death: SUICIDE.

Nat clenches her jaw tightly, her stomach rolling at the word.

Suicide.

The reminder of her mother's death, causes a feeling of intense grief and pain to overcome her, before anger washes them both away, consuming her very soul.

She hates how the only thing most people know about her mother, is that she committed suicide. No one knows about how kind and sincere she was, no one knows about the small moments of happiness- before all of the death and the lies- that the small family of three shared together- no one knows. And Nat hates how she lets her mother be forgotten; to be shadowed behind their wrongdoings, instead of being remembered for the boundless joy she seemed to always carry around with her. Nat hates how, more often than not, she herself pushes the thought of her mother away, burying her image beneath tons of guilt and fury. But, most of all, underneath all of the false pretences of love; Natalia hates Maria with everything she has- and, she hates herself for it even more...

Natalia can't help but feel the familiar feeling of resentment build up in her bones at even the mention of her mother, who left her on her own accord to be raised by a monster.

So many questions surround Maria's death, but one in particular stands out to Nat: why?

It's such a simple question, and yet, Natalia has never been able to get a straight answer. The one time Nat had scrounged up enough courage to finally ask her father, he had danced around it with ease, never giving her an exact answer and leaving her with more questions than before.

One time, Natalia even decided to do her own research into her mother's death- she didn't get very far, however, as everywhere she looked, she found dead ends; so, eventually, Nat had to give up.

She had to!

There was nothing else for her to look for, except more confusion.

Her mother killed herself- that's all there is to it.

It carries on from her mother, to her father, something Nat definitely doesn't want to read about.

This is important, this is for Erica, she reminds herself sternly.

And, with Erica's soft smile in mind, she continues reading.

It explains his life in detail, most of which Nat didn't even know- whoever did this research, and she already suspects it was Gerard, was clearly well-informed. Nat's hands tighten around the file as she continues reading, each sentence getting worse and worse.

It was a never-ending cycle of murder and deceit- her father in the centre of it all, dictating it all with a sickening grin.

'The Red-Horns take full credit for the 23rd street massacre-....14 reported dead-....more bodies suspected to be found...."

"Atticus Hayes, Leader of the Red-Horns, spotted in Brooklyn, hours before the discovery of 10 unknown bodies."

"Will this reign of terror ever end?"

"-blood, fire, anguish-"

"Several members of the Red-Horns have been caught and arrested-....names yet to be disclosed-...unsure-...how police knew about their whereabouts-....-could this be an inside job?-..."

"-Natalia Hayes, daughter of the infamous Atticus Hayes- key member of the Red-Horns-finally behind bars-....arrested for several accounts of fraud-....Is this the end of Natalia Hayes?"

Nat swallows thickly, attempting to quell the feeling of nausea that builds up in her stomach at the countless news reports and the painful memories they bring her.

Just when she's about to close the file, her hands shaking in fear at the horrid memories, she pauses, her eyes catching a highlighted passage of words.

It's a small newspaper advert, cut and stuck onto the file with tape. It's for a cleaning job.

Nat's eyes widen slightly in recognition, her hand reaching forward to lightly yank the piece of newspaper from the file.

During the massacre of 2008 (and any other time police presence was high), Atticus would talk to his gang-members through newspaper passages, embedding small messages in them. Natalia never forgot a passage (there's no way she could forget anything that happened during those dark years of her life- trust her, she's tried...), each message ingrained itself into her brain like a tattoo, but as Nat glances down at the passage, she realises she doesn't recognise it at all.

Nat inhales shakily, her eyes burning slightly as she stares down at the paper in her hands, as though it'll tell her what it means that she doesn't recognise it.

Deep down, she already knows what it means- there's only one thing it can mean: Atticus is free.

He's out there somewhere, waiting, biding his time, and by the looks of it, he's recruiting members. Nat shakes her head, mentally scolding herself for her ridiculous thought, it's impossible! He can't be out, he's in prison, Noah told her-

Noah told her, he's in prison....

Noah told her, he's in prison.

He told her.

He wouldn't- He wouldn't lie to her. Not about this. Not about Atticus- not about the man who ruined her childhood, by forcefully thrusting her into a life of crime. Not about the man who beat and trained her, shaping her into his perfect little subject...

You are nothing to him, a voice whispers in the back of her mind, the real question is: why wouldn't he lie to you? By telling her Atticus is in prison, Noah assures her compliance- he must have been planning this all along with the F.B.I., right from the very start...

He lied right to her face, whilst knowing everything- well, maybe not everything; some of the things Atticus did to her, she'll never tell another soul.

He knows about some of the pain Atticus has brought her- both physically and mentally-, he knows about the scars Atticus has left on her skin as a sign of his 'love', he knows about the tears and the blood she's shed in his name- that she never explicitly told him about, not accidentally wanting to admit to commiting more crimes.

And, still, after everything, he lied to her?

She remembers the exact day he had told her Atticus had been caught and sentenced. It was two months after she had arrived in Beacon Hills and become the Sheriff's C.I. She had emotionlessly took the news, silently saying a prayer of thanks that he was finally caught- that it was finally over. That same night, she had cried until she couldn't no more and scrubbed her skin raw, attempting to rid herself of the sins she had committed under his command. She had let herself feel for the first time in years. She allowed herself to cry, scream, and curse- she allowed herself to mourn and worst of all, she allowed herself to (partly) heal.

And, now? Now, all of it was for nothing.

He's out. He's free, while Nat's forced to scramble after Noah, answering to the Sheriff's every need and hoping that they'll be 'kind' enough to keep her around, until she works off her sentence: It's unfair!

How does he get to go free, while Nat has to work for hers?

He's the leader!

He's the problem!

He's the one who should be punished!

Hatred, anger and- worst of all- betrayal, pool into Nat's stomach, causing her to see red. It isn't even Atticus she's truly angry at, right now (she'll deal with the fact that he's still out there later- not wanting to break down in the Argent's basement and draw Allison's attention to her presence), but Noah.

Noah's been lying to her this whole entire time- the man whom she loves as a father (though she'd never openly admit that), the man who she stuck by, believing him to be kind and honest- lied to her.

How could he?

How could he?

HOW COULD HE?

Nat clenches her jaw tightly, her eyes wide- not with fear, this time- but with burning hot anger.

She forces down the small voice in the back of her mind that questions if Noah truly does know about Atticus' freedom (he has too, there's no way he couldn't...Right?), and she picks back up the newspaper passage, reading the already decoded message with a snarl.

'Payment will be given upon arrival. Bring package, unharmed, or payment will decrease, A.H.'

Package? Payment?

AH- Atticus's signature (Nat flinches at the sight of the two familiar letters).

Underneath it, another piece of newspaper lies, its date: a day later than the last.

"Package, acquired. Plan, in action, A."

A- must mean Argent, Nat deduces with fury.

Nat shakes her head, her mind swimming with thoughts (what package? What plan?), but the most prominent one, sends a cold tendril of fear into her heart: Gerard and Atticus were working together. It's the only explanation. They're partners, it seems, but, why? How? And partners in what?

What package? What payment? Is he in Beacon Hills-?

Nat tenses up at the thought of her father being so close to her, no- no! There's no way he's in Beacon Hills! She would know. She would know...right?

She growls in frustration, gripping the file tightly, so tight in fact, that her knuckles turn a bright-white colour in response.

She came here for answers, but she's leaving with more questions, and little to no answers, instead!

No Erica, no clues- nothing of her location!

Nat drops the file to the ground next to her before letting out a small, frustrated scream, making sure to muffle it with her hand, not wanting Allison to hear her.

If she hadn't waited to say goodbye to Noah, she'd be with Erica right now. No matter where they were, how bad things had gotten- they would've been together.

And, that's all that's Nat's ever wanted.

To be with her.

By her side. Forever.

But instead, she's sat in the Argent's basement, finding out about Noah's betrayal and Atticus' freedom through notes in Gerard Argent's files.

This is a disaster!

Not only is Erica still gone, but Noah's been lying to her this entire time...

Her eyes flicker around the room at the sprawled out pieces of paper and beige files. Why is she always a step behind Atticus? This whole time, she thought she was free- finally, free!- but no, no it was all an illusion to make her let her guard down.

And, she did.

She opened up.

She loved.

And now, she realises that it was all a mistake. If Erica had never met her, she would probably be safe at home right now, oblivious to the dangers of the supernatural world and the pain that Nat brings to those around her- she would be safe.

Nat rises to her feet, her eyes darkening as she casts a glance towards the file on the floor, where a picture of Atticus peaks out from the sides.

Atticus is coming- that she knows for definite; his ego would never let her, his daughter, go free- but, she'll be ready for him, and this time, he isn't getting away.

'A job like this, is better done by yourself,' Atticus grins, his powerful voice echoing in her head, as blood drips from his hands, 'there's less chance of it going it wrong, that way'

Nat smirks, remembering his words vividly. If the cops can't keep him contained- Nat will. One way or another.

Questions swarm Nat's mind, burning at her brain and increasing in volume, each thought fighting to be heard over the other.

Where's Atticus?

What package was Gerard and Atticus talking about?

Where's Erica?

Is she safe?

Is she with Boyd?

What is she going to do about Noah?

Nat drops her head back, looking up at the ceiling with a heavy heart. What is she going to do now?

She looks around at the mess at her feet and at the dark grey walls that seem to be closing in around her, and makes her decision: she needs to get out of here.

Nat lunges into action, bending down and shoving the files into the safe (taking the small newspaper cuttings containing Gerard and Atticus' conversation from her file and sliding them into her pocket, right next to the wolfsbane bullets she took earlier).

She then pulls out her phone, dialling the one number she knows she can trust to get here quickly (and without that many questions): Stiles.

Despite the revelation about Noah, Nat still trusts Stiles wholeheartedly. She learnt long ago to respect him and his way of thinking; which is why, if she's going to track down Atticus, she'll need him in her corner first.

"Hey," Nat greets as soon as Stiles answers her call, "You busy?"

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NAT CROWDS AROUND THE BASEMENT DOOR, LISTENING INTENTLY THROUGH IT AS SHE WAITS FOR STILES TO MAKE HIS MOVE.

As soon as the doorbell rings, Allison's footsteps trail towards it, her soft voice calling out a small, "One second!" as she goes.

The sound of the front door opening and Allison greeting Stiles- her voice a little less enthusiastic, now that she knows who it is- echoes through the door. Nat places her hand on the basement door's handle, opening it just enough so that she can peek out towards the front door, where Allison and Stiles stand face-to-face.

With the assurance that Allison's back is facing her, Nat slides out from the basement, locking eyes with Stiles over Allison's shoulder. Stiles' eyes widen slightly at the sight of her.

"Did Scott send you?" Allison questions tensely. Nat softly closes the basement door behind her, her eyes pinned on the duo just down the hallway from her.

"Did Scott-?" Stiles begins, drawing his eyes back to Allison and attempting to act normal (key word being: attempting), "-Oh, no! No- he doesn't know I'm here....I just- I just wanted to...check on you- yes! Check on you, you know after the whole...," Stiles waves his hands around wildly. Allison recoils backwards slightly in an attempt to dodge his hands, "...thing."

Allison shuffles, clearly uncomfortable with the mention of recent events. Nat barely holds in a snort at Stiles' reasoning as she creeps down the hallway and towards the back door.

"Oh, um...right, well, I'm...fine. Thanks, I guess."

"Good, good! Cool, cool!" Stiles stutters, twisting his hands anxiously in front of him. His eyes lighting up in relief once he sees Nat gesture for him to leave as she carefully opens the back door, "Well, I'm just gonna go...so..."

"Right...," Allison agrees with a frown of confusion, "Bye?"

Nat closes the back door, already making her way through the garden and back towards the gate she had entered from.

Stiles hums, throwing a careless goodbye over his shoulder as he turns and practically sprints back down the Argent's driveway, Allison watching incredulously from the doorway as he goes.

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"WHAT WAS THAT?" STILES PRACTICALLY YELLS, THROWING HIS HANDS UP IN THE AIR IN FRUSTRATION, "WHY THE HELL WERE YOU IN ALLISON'S HOUSE??!"

"I wasn't." She blatantly lies, pushing right past him and continuing to walk down the street towards Stiles' jeep and away from Allison's house.

Stiles grabs her arm, turning her around to face him as he exclaims in a voice that practically drips of disapproval, "Nat!"

"Stiles!" She returns mockingly, pulling her arm from his hold and sending him a glare. She knows it isn't fair of her to be mad with Stiles for something his father did but, god, does Noah's betrayal hurt!

It sends tendrils of pain in to her heart, making it squeeze in a way that she only feels when she thinks of her mother for too long- it's horrible!

She doesn't want it!

She doesn't want to feel this way- she has no right to! It's not like he's her father-

But he is- was- isn't he?

Every time she thinks of family, she thinks of: Noah, Melissa, Scott, Stiles, Erica and Allison (and maybe even Isaac, too- the boy who shares her pain in a way no one else in their little make-shit family ever could).

Noah was always there for her- in his own brash and unexperienced way, of course.

He looked out for her, even when she didn't deserve it (or well, she thought he did...Turns out this whole time, he's been lying to her- but why? Why lie? What does he get out of it?)

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Stiles hisses, bringing Nat out of her head and back to the present.

"Nothing." She lies once more, unwilling to tell Stiles of his father's deceit.

"Nothing," He reiterates exasperatedly, "I had to drive all the way out here to distract Allison, so that you could escape from her house unnoticed, and the only reason you can give me for doing so, is 'nothing'!?" He yells, before lowering his tone and continuing, "Listen, I know that with everything going on with Erica and Boy-"

"No," Nat interrupts firmly, "I won't stop looking for her, Stiles-!"

"I know-!"

"No! You don't! You don't know! That's the problem! All you and Scott want, is for me to move on and forget about her!"

"That's not what-!"

"It is! You want me to stop looking for her, but guess what, Stiles? I'm never going to. Not until I find her. Not until I know that she is safe!"

"This isn't healthy, Nat! We're just worried about you- and, rightly so, it seems!- you're staying out 'till early morning searching for any sign of her, your dragging Scott and I out into the preserve in the middle of the night to sniff her out- which is very creepy, and very uncomfortable for everyone involved- and now-! Now, you're breaking into the Argent's house-!"

"I'm not stopping, Stiles. And, if you're not gonna help me, then get lost." She growls, pushing past him once more and continuing down the path. He doesn't stop her this time.

"Help you with what? We've been with you for this whole searching for Erica and Boyd thing? What else do you need?" Stiles questions, causing Nat to stop in her steps and turn to face him. She pulls out the newspaper from her pocket and shoves it into his chest. Stiles looks down at the paper in confusion, "What's this?"

"Messages," She replies, clarifying once she catches his look, "From my father to Gerard. Turns out they were in contact with each other." She chuckles bitterly as the words slip from her tongue. Stiles looks up at her with furrowed eyebrows.

"I don't understand," Stiles mutters, "I thought...I thought your father was..."

"Locked up?" She finishes for him and when he nods, she continues sardonically, "Yeah, me too. Turns out, he's not."

Stiles shakes his head, looking down at the paper in his hands critically, "There's no way. We'd know if he got out. I mean, he was on America's most wanted list for nearly a decade; news of his release definitely wouldn't have been able to go unnoticed! Not to mention, it should be nearly impossible for him to even see daylight again, after all he's done!"

"You don't know my father, Stiles. He has people everywhere...If he wants to go about unnoticed, he could. And, if he wants freedom, well it seems he can get that just as easily too."

"But...But my father! Surely, he'd know if-"

"I bet he does." Nat interrupts coldly.

"You don't think-" Stiles begins incredulously.

"I think, my father is a very powerful and persuasive man."

"What, and you think my father is weak?" Stiles returns with a snarl.

"I think, that it was your father who told me he was arrested- who told me he was finally put away-"

"And, so he must know if he's out?" Stiles scoffs, shaking his head, "Did you even stop and think, for even a second, that maybe he doesn't know? That maybe he's just as oblivious to this, as we were?"

Nat shakes her head firmly, "Someone had to have known."

"But, why my father?"

"Because, he made me let my guard down- he made me weak!" Nat yells, her eyes wide with burning anger- not at Stiles' defiance, no, that she can live with- but at Noah and his heart-breaking betrayal, "He played me, Stiles! He had me exactly how he wanted me to be; naive and compliant!"

"Oh...," Stiles trails, his eyes lighting up in realisation, making Nat wish that she had just kept her mouth shut, "Because anyone who shows you any form of love, must have some kind ulterior motive, right?"

Nat glares at him, not wanting to reveal the answer they both already know. Stiles scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You don't think my dad actually knows about yours being free, do you?" Stiles questions.

"Of course, I do!" Nat shouts. Stiles however, continues as though she had never even spoken.

"You just want a reason to push him away." Stiles finishes, calmly.

Nat pushes back the wave of emotions that pound at her chest, demanding to be acknowledged, at Stiles' words.

Who is he to tell her what she is feeling?, she wants to scream.

She doesn't though, unable to make the words leave her throat.

"You're being stupid, Natalia. My dad has shown you nothing but kindness, and this is how you repay him? By questioning his loyalty to his country-
and to you?"

Nat stays silent, unable to stop the guilt from rising in her chest. She shoves it down just as soon as she feels it- he doesn't deserve her guilt! He lied to her...He did...Didn't he?

Of course he did, how could he not have known?

You didn't, a small voice in the back of her head whispers. Nat clenches her jaw, forcing her thoughts to fall silent, only then realising Stiles is still talking, his face turning slightly red in anger.

"-You know what, Natalia? I'll look up your father- I'll find him. Not just to prove to you that my father had nothing to do with this, but because I love you," He declares, jabbing a finger into her face, a scowl painting his features, "Because, despite everything, you are my sister, and not even this can change that."

Nat eyes widen at his declaration, the pure fury on his face strongly contrasting his passionate words. She shakes her head, taking a step away from him, which only seems to anger him more as he steps closer to her.

"Don't you dare push me away too, Natalia. Your father won't be able to take you away from us- not this time, I promise." Stiles proclaims, thinking back to their childhood when, after Nat's mother's death, Atticus had taken her away from Beacon Hills, leaving nothing but empty promises to return one day.

He's never forgiven himself for allowing her to slip away from them and into the arms of her monster of a father- not that he knew that at the time, of course. He was only six!

Nat feels her eyes begin to burn. Why is he so confusing? One second, he's yelling at her; and the next, he's comforting her? It makes no sense!

"He's free, Stiles, he's- he's free." Nat whispers, unaware she had even said the words out loud until a set of arms wrap around her, hugging her close a firm body.

"It'll be okay, Nat, I promise." he whispers into her hair. Nat feels the tears she's been fighting to hold back, trail down her cheeks in silent waves of agony.

"You can't promise that." Nat returns in the same tone, her voice shaking slightly.

"Yeah? Well, too late." He responds, planting a kiss in her hair. Normally, Nat would have felt weird or uncomfortable with this sort of comfort coming from anyone but Erica or Melissa, but with the overwhelming fear of her father's freedom looming over her, and the uncertainty of Erica's whereabouts, and Stiles' warm arms; she finds herself pressing into him and returning his affection, holding him as tight as she possibly can, as though he'll slip from her hands like sand (like everything else in her life does).

And, Nat cries. Not just because of the obvious Erica shaped hole in her heart, but because of the pure love Stiles is showing her.

After everything, he still loves her. Her brother, her best-friend (the lines are so blurred between the two now, that she can swear that they were destined to be together like this), and with him arms around her, Atticus doesn't seem so scary to her anymore.

How could he?

Because, no matter what he does to her (in the past, or in the future), nothing could take away this moment from her.

Nothing.

A new-found determination grows in her stomach as she tightens her hold on Stiles.

She'll find Erica, and then, whenever he decides to show up-and, he will; she knows it-, she'll destroy Atticus, along with the dynasty he's created in his name; finally freeing herself from his chains, once and for all (something she should have done years ago)...

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(8203 words)
Written - 30/5/2023
Edited - 09/08/2023
Edited - 01/03/2024

author's notes,
Thank you for reading!!
I hope this all makes sense lmao-
Some of Nat's past is beginning to be revealed!!
And also some small Stiles and Nat appreciation :)
I hope you all enjoyed it! Sorry for the long wait it's exam season :(
Anyway- Thank you all for the support I've been getting on this book! ILY all <33
My spotify, tic tok and pinterest is @ thatwearsthecrown :)