Mitch helps Lin into the passenger side of his Jeep and then steps away to find shelter under a nearby awning with the promise he'll be back soon. He makes two calls in aid of cleaning up this mess, one ends considerably quicker than the other.
Lin watches through the blur of the rain, hears the muffling of a raised voice but can't work out much else, even if her ears weren't ringing a high-pitched static she probably wouldn't be able to hear much over the storm, it's probably for the best, there's nothing good to hear.
Mitch counts on it.
He's back at the car in under five minutes, slipping into the passenger seat and shucking off his jacket, she half watches as he shakes his head like a dog to remove the excess water from his hair and then they are on the road. The don't talk much, he does flash her his badge at some point, so at least she knows she's with real law enforcement and not some shady vigilante stalking the night, though it does little to settle her nerves. He doesn't seem like a CIA agent, and certainly doesn't act like one.
If she notices that he's driving in the opposite direction to the nearest hospital she doesn't mention it, doesn't mention that the stabbing pain in her wrist has lessened to a dull ache either. She couldn't tell you how much time had passed before he pulled over in the parking lot of a shady motel, only that the time had passed in silence, and that they drove past a sign for Beacon Hills a little while ago.
Mitch eyes her for a second, before saying "Wait here," and stepping out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him and taking the keys with him. So, she does what no one sane in her position would do and she waits.
-
"Why call me? You should've taken her to the hospital."
Mitch pinches his lips together and draws in a deep breath, already regretting every decision he's made tonight that's led him to here, right now, in this car park.
"I tried Derek first, he didn't pick up," he supplies, sounding a little strained "And she doesn't need a hospital, it's a full moon tomorrow, in case you hadn't noticed, she's probably mostly healed already."
"Why not call Scott, he's the Alpha, he should handle it." He doesn't miss the tinge of aggression that clings to the word alpha.
He kicks at the ground with the point of his boot, restless and tired, "Are you going to help me or not?"
Peter leans against his car, looking all too smug, half-lit with the red light of the buzzing motel sign somewhere above and to the left of them. The rain had subsided here sometime during the drive, leaving behind a wet sheen that lights up the pavement around them in blotchy patches. Calling Peter wasn't a decision he took pride in, but it was one that had to be made, the least shitty card from the shit deck of choices he'd been dealt tonight.
"Is your little feud with Scott more important to you than this girl's life?" He asks, eyebrows arched to match the half-smirk that Mitch might just punch off his face. All in all, though, Peter doesn't seem that shocked, sardonic and egotistical and all the things that make a Hale a Hale, sure but he doesn't seem surprised. That's good, he can work with that. Being called out to a shady place in the middle of the night and being asked to do something—well, shady probably isn't all too uncommon for Peter Hale, fits him like a well-worn glove, another thing he can work with.
"I wouldn't have called you at all if I hadn't told Lydia I'd let the pack help, I'm just keeping my word." He's not really, Peter isn't part of the McCall pack, not officially, neither is Derek, it's half the reason he called them and not anyone else.
"I'm not pack."
"Could've fooled me." He couldn't have, fooled Mitch that is, but it doesn't matter. The Hales are old and they know how to control their wolf without the help of an Alpha, they also have more smarts when it comes to discretion.
"Are you just trying to punish her for asking?"
Mitch grits his teeth, can feel his blood pressure rising, squeezes his palm too tight around his car keys, and Peter squints at the scent of blood. And maybe he is, just a little, acting out of spite at the gall Lydia Martin showed him, acting on his promise without really acting on it. Making her regret her decision, just a little, hopefully just enough.
"Look, this girl—Lin, she's going to go full feral werewolf tomorrow night unless someone teaches her how to control it, if that someone isn't going to be you ," he points with his blooded hand, all but one finger still wrapped around his keys, "then you can leave now." He raises his voice just a little, can feel the muscles of his lower jaw jump and clench—dealing with a snarky Peter has brought out repressed anger in him he'd like to think he'd learnt to control. He has learnt to control it, has an infallible iron-grip on his emotions—like the grip he has on his car keys. He's certainly not going to lose it in the presence of Peter Hale. He'd have to add it to the list of things he'll never live down and that list is far too long already.
"Well, I never said I wouldn't help."
"Great, so you'll teach her then?"
"Have you told her what she is? What she's becoming?"
"No not yet, but she saw—"
Peter scoffs, "So this girl was just attacked by a man with big sharp claws and bright red eyes and you just, what, kidnapped her and brought her to me?"
Mitch thinks he might scream, "She'd have tried to run if I told her, or she'd lash out at me, I didn't want to deal with that—you can explain it to her better than I can, she needs to see it for herself."
Peter snorts , "Saving all the fun for me? How considerate, Mitch."
It pisses him off, it genuinely boils his blood that Peter Hale is the first person to address him as Mitch from the get-go, the first person in this town to not so much as mention Stiles Stilinski to him in conversation, despite knowing him by that name for years. Because of course, Peter would respect his new identity, of course, he'd have no problem with it and he hates how much he appreciates it.
"So you will help her then? Help me?" Mitch clarifies, because he's tired of this conversation and where it might be going and honestly he just wants to lay down (he knows himself too well to expect to fall asleep, but to be able to lay down in a bed and stare blankly at a dark ceiling right now would be enough).
"Do you not have connections for stuff like this? Surely they'd be more equipped to handle it, I mean your bosses at the CIA can't be happy you're handing over a victim to a random werewolf, you know, considering the case you're obviously working on."
Mitch sighs, stares up at the black hole in the sky where the clouds have dissipated above them, "Look, I called you because I wanted your help because you won't ask what happened to the wolves that attacked her, because you don't care that I shot them instead of lecturing them on how nice it feels to do good instead of evil and blindly hoping they've changed their ways," and emotions be damned, he doesn't try control the way spite leeches out of him, venomous and sharp, "I called you because I wanted her to learn how to control herself, to have agency, not to be dragged into a pack that causes more problems than it solves.
"I called you because my- my connections , the CIA, the FBI? There are plenty of powerful people out there that would happily wipe supernatural creatures off the map, many that wouldn't see her as worth saving," he takes a breath, gritting his teeth as he takes a step back, turning to glance at his jeep behind him, at the innocent woman sat inside before looking back to Peter, "I called you because even if I don't trust you, even if I think you're an immoral asshole at the best of times, you were my best option, I don't want any more collateral damage Peter, I want to keep her safe and as shitty as it is, right now, you're my best chance of doing that."
Peter doesn't have the chance to respond, the opening of a car door a few spaces back answers for him.
Mitch turns, hears Peter straighten up from his own car as Lin walks into view, her eyes wide and face pained, "what's happening to me?" She asks, breathless as she tugs at the sleeve of her shirt, just enough to reveal dried blood and small, almost completely healed scars.
"Well," Peter struts up beside Mitch, patting him on the back, smirk sharp, Mitch can almost feel the smug energy oozing off him as he talks, "I believe that's my cue."
~~~
WHATEVER YOU DO, REMEMBER, DON'T LET IT GET PERSONAL.
YOU ARE READING
𝑅𝐸𝑄𝑈𝐼𝐸𝑀 - M.R.
Fanfiction[Teen Wolf x American Assassin Crossover] "and the kindest thing you can do for a rabid dog?" "put it down." --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- Not long after defeating the nogitsune, Stiles flees Beacon Hills without so much...
