Chapter Text
Derek shivers as the heater rumbles to life from where it’s stuck to the wall. The heat is quick to seep into the small room and warm Derek’s skin and he finds that he’s stupidly thankful for it. It feels like he’s been freezing for months, like this is the first time in long, drawn out weeks that he has been anything but ice cold.
He looks down to where Jack is sitting. His son is still playing with his truck toy like he’s been for the past ten or so minutes they’ve been sitting there, pushing it slowly back and forth on top of the plain white table that takes up most of the room, his body barely moving except for his arm.
Derek puts his hand on top of his son’s shaggy hair, painfully blonde and in desperate need of a haircut, and breathes in slowly. The deep inhale serves as much to take in the scent of Jack, still baby-like despite his five years of age and so much like pack and home and everything good in Derek’s life, as it does to calm him down a little, access the situation, tell himself that they’re safe.
He scratches his fingers along Jack’s tiny scalp, listens to his son make barely noticeable “vroom-vroom” sounds as the plastic vehicle moves back and forth on top of the table and his heart aches all over again.
He takes another moment to inhale deliberately and center himself. The past week had been a hard one. “Hard” probably isn’t the best word to describe it; he could think of at least a dozen words that would’ve described it better (harsher, infinitely more painful words). But when he calls it “a hard week” he can trick himself, if only for a few seconds, into believing that the horrible things that transpired during this one particular week never actually happened. It doesn’t help, nothing really does these days, but pretending that he can make things a little better tops not doing anything at all.
The click of the door opening and closing fills the room, the sound almost startling despite its softness. A cup that is steaming from the lip is put in front of Derek and he looks up, his hand stilling on top of Jack’s head.
Lydia Martin sits on the lone chair opposite Derek. She looks tired, Derek notices, and his chest tightens with guilt at the sight. In all the years that he’s known Lydia, she has never once looked anything but perfect, but now the strawberry blonde hairs are out of place and, even with the makeup, dark circles are noticeable under her eyes, and it’s all his fault.
She smiles at him anyway - too soft for Lydia, who normally just sends smirks Derek’s way or engages him in playful glaring contests - and nods at the cup of what smells like hot chocolate, his favorite. Derek notices a smaller one sitting in front of Jack and Derek appreciates the try more than he can say, even though both of them know Jack will ignore his cup and keep playing with his truck, moving it back and forth mindlessly like he’d done the past days, the only sounds coming from him the same “vroom-vroom”s over and over and over again.
Derek grabs his cup. He doesn’t take the warm liquid into his mouth, he couldn’t even if he tried because his stomach feels too tight, but he appreciates how the cup feels almost scalding against his palm and how the smell of chocolate mixes with the one of Jack in the air and washes over him like a soothing balm.
Lydia clears her throat, her smile morphing into a grimace as she leans over to touch the back of Derek’s hand. He instantly swallows, knowing this could only mean one thing. He had been waiting for the news all day, hoping with every fiber of his being that they were good, knowing that he was just not lucky enough for them to be.
“They haven’t found her yet,” Lydia says, apologetic as though she feels that what happened was also her fault. Everyone around him seems to think that these days.
Derek nods slowly, almost numbly, and looks down at Jack again. His son doesn’t react to the news, but then again he doesn’t react much to anything anymore. He just sits with his toy all day, hasn’t spoken a word since the incident, and he will only eat if Derek becomes so desperate trying to make his kid swallow down something that he almost cries and Jack takes the food just to make Derek stop smelling so sad. Social services stepped in with a psychologist, but everything is still too fresh, the physical wounds gone but the emotional ones still too raw and painful for any progress to be made.
Derek turns back to Lydia.
“What do we do now?”
“Now we have to make a decision,” she says.
She opens the folder she had brought with her when she entered the room. It’s almost overflowing with papers, all related to the case, and Derek knows that whatever solution to the problem that she’s about to present him with is the best for both him and Jack. Derek didn’t choose Lydia as his lawyer just because she was his friend, or because she was his sister’s wife, but because she was the best lawyer in the entire damned town and Derek trusted that she was the best bet they had at the moment.
“They’re going to keep searching and they’re going to find her,” Lydia says, looking him fiercely in the eye, and Derek feels momentarily better because she sounds so sure that he almost believes her. “But while she’s at large we need to make sure that there’s no chance in hell that she’ll find you.”
Derek watches her eyes move to Jack then, most likely trying to read his reaction to her words. The department had talked about putting Jack in another room during talks, but the only time Jack seemed to react was when he was taken away from Derek, and they had ultimately decided that the terror in the boy’s screams at being far from his father was a much worse punishment than being present for the hard conversations. They compromised, instead, to never mention Kate’s name when he was around.
“They’re going to make you an offer for a witness protection program.” Lydia grabs a stack of papers held together by a crooked paper clip and pushes it across the table. “Everyone is doing their best to speed up the process and get you in a safe place as soon as possible. Sheriff Stilinski has agreed to let me help figure out the plan, to make sure that what we’re offering is the best for you.”
Derek flips through the papers slowly. He had been expecting this, knows it’s the only viable option while Kate is still out there with her mind set on ending what she started, but he finds that it’s hard to read the draft of the program Lydia put in front of him and actually realize that he’s about to leave his family and his home behind so that he and his son can live.
“While we were making the plan,” Lydia continues, her voice soft as if she’s afraid that what she’s about to say will spook him. “I propositioned to the Sheriff that you and Jack don’t go alone.”
Derek looks up from the papers.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
Lydia licks her lips and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
“They’ll obviously do everything they can to protect you, but I want someone in the house with you at all times, someone to keep you safe in any eventuality,” she says. “I know that it’s hard for you to trust people, especially now, which is why I propositioned someone I trust with my own life be assigned to you.”
Lydia reaches towards the stack of papers and pulls the one from the bottom only to then drop it on top of the pile. It looks like a resumé of some sort. There’s a picture of a vaguely familiar man in the corner and Lydia points at it with a finger.
“That’s Stiles.” She beats her finger twice against the picture. The paper rustles as Jack’s’ truck hits the corner of it once; before he rolls the toy the other way, still whispering “vroom, vroom, vroom” to himself, his cooling chocolate still untouched.
Derek suddenly realizes why he knows that face, even if the man in the picture looks different from the long-limbed, clumsy teen he remembers from his childhood.
“The Sheriff’s kid. Your best friend,” he says and Lydia nods, her expression serious.
“He’s with the FBI. He moved to DC when we were 18 and hasn’t been in Beacon Hills since then, his legal name isn’t the one everyone around here knows him by and he’s connected with the Werewolf Justice Department. He can keep you safe.”
Derek grabs the corner of the paper as he considers this. He never really knew Stiles when they were young, doesn’t know the man besides his name and memories of seeing him around town or at school whenever his mom made him pick Cora up. But he knows Lydia, knows that during her sophomore year, after her then-best-friend Allison died, she became a different person. He remembers how the stuck-up teenager his sister had an inexplicable crush on, suddenly became withdrawn and seemingly friendless, and how the only person she let into her life for a long while was one long limbed, mole speckled boy Cora was insanely jealous of, even if she was loathe to admit it.
Lydia and Stiles had been the main gossip in the high school that year and Derek had been the target of Cora’s many complaints about how the two didn’t go anywhere without the other. Even his cousin Jackson, who also had a crush on Lydia that year, had decided to rant about the unfairness of it all to Derek, because apparently Derek had become that member of the pack without him even noticing.
Everyone thought Lydia and Stiles were in some weird co-dependent romantic relationship for a while and neither of them bothered to correct anyone, up until Cora was successful enough in getting Lydia’s attention Junior year and they started dating. So, even though Derek barely knows a thing about Stiles, he does know just how important he is to Lydia, and being seen as someone Lydia Martin trusts with her own life is the biggest endorsement anyone could get.
Derek takes a deep breath. He notices that his hand is shaking a little so he presses his palm flat against the table. His other hand is still on top of Jack’s head and he takes a moment to close his eyes and feel the softness of his son’s hair against his skin.
“What’s the plan?” he asks, voice as levelled as he can make it sound. He doesn’t think he succeeds in hiding the shakiness, but if Lydia notices then she doesn’t comment on it.
“Someone that isn’t me or the Sheriff will allocate you and Jack to another state. California is not too big for her.” Derek winces at hearing this. He knows it, too. “Stiles will be there. You’ll get new identities, new social security numbers, new haircuts, whatever’s necessary. And then you’ll stay there and try your best to live your new life until they finally catch her and put her away for good.”
Derek takes his trembling hand to his mouth as he feels himself choking up a little. He looks at Lydia and he knows his eyes are watering despite his best attempts at staying collected. He feels Jack’s tiny hand grip his shirt then, the first sign that he’s been listening to the conversation the entire time, and it breaks his heart further.
“We won’t be able to talk with anyone until it’s over, will we?” he asks, already knowing the answer but unable to not make the question. “Not with my parents, not Cora or anyone in the pack. Not you,” he adds.
Lydia can’t even seem to force a smile anymore.
“It’s how it works. Sheriff Stilinski will be our only point of communication. He’ll call Stiles just like he normally would and he will make sure everything is good in your end and let you know how things are going in our end. He’ll do it vaguely as to not draw any attention towards his conversations with his son, but he’ll make sure Stiles gets the message.” She leans in again to give his hand a comforting squeeze. “This is the best anyone can give us, considering. In most cases witnesses are completely disconnected from their old life. This is the most I could do to make this a little easier for you.”
Derek nods. He feels numb, and it’s like the room is suddenly cold again despite the heater still buzzing ahead. He finally drops his hand from Jack’s head and wraps his arm around his son’s small body, feeling his presence like a tether.
He knows deep down that he probably would’ve refused the program had it been just him. His pack is safe, they’re protectors, and he knows that every single one of them would lay down their life to protect him. Derek knows that, were it just him, he would’ve trusted his pack’s protection to be enough. But Kate had already gotten to them once, before she turned her monstrosity on Derek and her own child. She had very nearly killed them all. If they stayed in Beacon Hills, it was only a matter of time until she managed to do it all over again and the second time she would most likely succeed.
The pack has already decided to send the children to stay with Jackson in London while Kate is on the run and the adults hunt her down, but they all know that Derek and Jack can’t follow. Kate will always be there following the two of them, will do so until she’s either arrested or they’re dead, and the other children couldn’t possibly stay safe if they were to go with them. Derek can’t risk leaving Jack in Beacon Hills, either, vulnerable despite the pack’s protection. Who knows how long it will take for them to find Kate? There are many of them, but she’s smart and cunning and ready to get rid of anyone who stands in her way by any means necessary. They can't trust that everything will be fine just because they have the numbers on their side.
Derek has already failed too much in Jack’s short life, more than he will ever be able to repent for, and he knows that he can’t fail again.
The thought of having to uproot himself and his cub from their home, of having to move miles and miles away from their pack until it’ll feel like they’re suffocating, hurts him in ways that he can’t describe. But losing his child, the most precious thing he has in the entire world, would hurt infinitely more.
So he gathers himself, holds Jack against him a little tighter and leans down to kiss the top of his head and scent him slowly before turning back to Lydia.
“Tell me what I need to do.”
*
The whole pack meets them at the Sheriff’s station to say goodbye. The details of the program aren’t fully hashed out yet, but they’re sending Derek and Jack to a safehouse where Lydia says other families in the same or similar situations stay until each of them is finally sent to their new homes.
The pack stays for as long as they can, surrounding Derek and Jack with their scents, soft words and affection. They’re given an hour and then Lydia comes back from whatever magic she was pulling and regretfully tells them that it’s time to leave.
They don’t have to pack. Kate burned down their house before disappearing, turning all their belongings to ash. Derek has a backpack with the few clothes the pack put together last minute, some toys the kids gave up for Jack and nothing more. Derek knows that the program will provide them with necessities for a while, knows that it’s not necessarily one more thing that he has to worry about, but it still makes him nauseous to think that one single human had managed to burn his life to the ground so easily and so soundly, and only because she saw him and their child as abominations.
He hugs every member of the pack goodbye. His older sister, Laura, had already left to London with the children and Derek regrets not having held her a little tighter when they said their own goodbyes the day before.
His mom holds onto him for some long, aching minutes when it’s her turn, and when she lets go there are tears in her eyes and the irises are burning bright red. She frames Derek’s face with her hands and for a moment he feels like a child again.
“I’m scared,” he wants to tell her because he so desperately needs her reassurances that everything will be fine. But Jack is still clinging to him, and Derek knows that now it’s his responsibility to be the reassuring party, that he can’t use his mom as a shield from the world anymore, no matter how much he wants to.
So, instead, he flashes his own blue eyes back and says, voice hoarse, “I’m going to miss you.”
His mom nods and leans in to kiss his forehead, her nose dragging down the side of his face as she scents him.
“You’ll be home soon,” she says, voice firm and sure. And he believes her, he has to.
Then Sheriff Stilinski arrives back at the station, puts a hand on Derek’s shoulder and, just like Lydia, tells him that it’s time to go.
The man is a calming presence, has been since the day he saw Kate squeeze Derek’s arm meanly and painfully in the produce section of the grocery store just because Jack asked for ice cream and Derek dared say yes. That had been over a year ago and Sheriff Stilinski’s number had been saved inside a secret pocket in his favorite leather jacket ever since, just in case.
That day, just a week ago, the Sheriff picked up the call on the first ring. Derek doesn’t know - doesn’t dare imagine - what would’ve happened if the Sheriff hadn’t cared about Derek and his son enough to be waiting for that call for a whole year. If the sheriff’s son is anything like his father, Derek thinks, then Lydia really couldn’t have found anyone better to keep him safe in the days to come.
The pack waves goodbye as Derek and Jack enter the Sheriff’s car, two other escort cars getting ready for the trip behind them. Lydia sits on the passenger seat to make the journey with them and they drive off. Derek looks back at his pack until he can’t see them anymore and then he closes his eyes and focuses on their scent and the sound of their voices until they’re far enough that those fade as well. Jack is sitting beside him, one hand moving his truck up and down his leg and the other holding tightly onto Derek’s thumb as though he understands what they’re leaving behind and feels it just as much as Derek, even if he can't say it.
Nobody talks about anything that really matters during the trip. Even though it’s just them, just people Derek knows will always work towards his best interest, they’re all running on the assumption that nothing is safe enough. The sheriff doesn’t talk about Stiles, making sure nobody, not even air, makes the connection between his son and this entire operation, and Lydia started working on the same principle the moment they left that room earlier in the day.
Derek wants desperately to ask something, anything, because in just some short weeks he’ll be required to start a new life with Stiles Stilinski, someone he only knows by name, professional status and vague, if strong, recommendations from two people he trusts. Stiles Stilinski is a stranger, yet he’ll have to trust the man with his life and with the very important life of his cub, and he’s not even allowed to ask the most innocuous questions about him.
He sighs softly and leans his head back, tilting it until he’s looking at his son. Dusk is falling, the muted lines of the sunset draping across Jack’s face and making the boy sleepy. Derek brushes his fingers rhythmically along his son’s hand that’s still clutching his thumb and watches him as the movement of the car and the soft lights lull him to sleep, his whole body going slack. Derek quickly grabs the plastic truck before it falls from Jack’s hand onto the floor of the car and starts slowly dragging the toy back and forth along his own thigh just like his kid had been doing.
The Sheriff and Lydia start a conversation about something Derek doesn’t bother listening in and he just sits there, lost in thought as he watches trees and houses come and go through the car’s window, as the sun dips in the horizon and the day darkens, as the world gets quieter and more daunting around them.
Derek listens to his son’s soft breaths and tries to imagine what their new life will be like, wonders how that familiar stranger will fit into them or how he possibly won’t fit at all. And he wonders, not for the first time, if he will still be the same Derek at the end of all of this and if he’ll ever learn to love the new him in case he’s not.