thirty-six

    Winnie rifled through the downstairs closet with her good arm, removing a navy utility jacket. She looked at the sleeves, hesitating to put it on. "Well, shit."


"Let me," offered Aaron as he came out from the den to the foyer. He helped her put one arm through, fitting the other to hang over her slung arm. "How's that?"


"Good, thank you," replied Winnie as she cracked her neck and grabbed her bag off the end of the staircase.


Aaron stopped Winnie as she went to open the front door. "Do you need me to drive you?"


"No, Stiles is out front," she said with only half focus as she was already out the door.


"Is there anything I can say to make you not go to the game?"


Winnie looked back to her father, the Jeep behind her, "I can't live my life in fear. It's no life at all." She went up on her toes, kissing Aaron on the cheek before going down to the Jeep.


"You're looking good for someone who got shot yesterday," commented Stiles with half a grin as he shifted the gear into drive.


"I do try," Winnie jokingly replied as she used her good arm to fluff her hair. She pretended to be okay, but she was really only wondering why Isaac wasn't talking to her.


"It's not your dominant hand, is it? I know it's your upper arm but that sling kind of inhibits drawing." Stiles glanced over to her as he drove out of her neighborhood.


Winnie agreed, but her face said there was a catch. "Even if it were my writing hand that was out of commission, the shining just uses what it can. It'll turn out the same with either hand."


Stiles' eyebrows furrowed, "You're shitting me, right?"


"I wish," Winnie brushed a wave of hair from her face, "If breaking my hand meant I could have a week off, I would rip off my arms."


"So if you break both of your hands," said Stiles, "you could draw the same quality with like, your toes?"


Winnie couldn't help but laugh, "I've never been in the situation, but it seems like it would be like that."


Stiles shook his head with a grin, "That's insane."


"No, this town is insane," retorted Winnie as the Jeep pulled into the school parking lot. "I'm only a moderate head case."


"Will you tell me if you ever break both your hands, because I would pay to watch you shine with your toes."


Winnie climbed out of Roscoe as Stiles did, going around the front as Stiles grabbed his bag from the backseat. "I'll break my hands if you paid me."


"Right after this game, I'm gonna go get a job."


Winnie walked towards the field with Stiles, still laughing. "Sounds good to me."


"Winnie," Stiles stopped outside of the outdoor entrance to the locker room, "what are you going to do if Jackson loses it tonight?"


The brunette seemed matter-of-fact in her response.


"I think you mean when."


¥ ¥ ¥


A coolness clung to the night air in Beacon, a pathetic game of lacrosse about to happen under the blinding lights.


Winnie couldn't stay in the stands as the game was about to start, making her way to the bench that Stiles and Scott sat at in uniform.


"Your dad coming?" Scott asked Winnie over his shoulder as she sat down backwards next to Stiles.


"No, he's at home."


Of course, it was only a lead in for his next question. "Either of you seen Allison?"


"No," replied Stiles once he saw Winnie shake her head, "you see Lydia?"


"Not yet," both Winnie and Scott said in unison.


Winnie looked over to Scott, "You know what's going on?"


Again, Scott said, "Not yet."


"It's going to be bad, isn't it?" Winnie asked cautiously. "Like, people screaming, running for their lives, blood, killing, mass murder kind of bad?"


"Looks like it."


"Scott," Stiles timidly started, "the other night, seeing my dad get hit over the head by Matt, you know, it's just - I want to help, y'know, but I can't do the things that you can do. I can't -"


"It's okay," Scott softly said.


"Guys," Winnie depressedly put in, "we're losing."


"The hell are you talking about?" Finstock asked as he caught the tail end of their conversation. "Game hasn't even started." He barely noticed Winnie, smacking Stiles. "Now put on your helmet and get out there. You're in for Greenberg."


"What?" questioned Stiles with slight alarm. "What happened to Greenberg?"


Coach laughed, "What happened to Greenberg? He sucks! You suck...slightly less."


Stiles looked starstruck, "I'm playing? On the field? With the team?"


"Yes," remarked Finstock, "unless you'd rather play with yourself."


Stiles was as clueless as ever, "I already did that today, twice."


Winnie closed her eyes with embarrassment, groaning inwardly.


"Get the hell out there!" Finstock shouted in his ear.


Stiles struggled to get up, hauling his gear out onto the field.


Winnie scooted in closer to Scott, taking Stiles' spot. "What's going on?"


"With the game?" Scott was momentarily oblivious, "I have no idea."


"No, Scott."


Scott hesitated before meeting eyes with Winnie. He could tell she was hurting, but not just from her slowly healing gun wound. "Winnie..."


"Please tell me," she practically begged. "Where's Isaac?"


Scott lightly sighed, "He doesn't want you to get hurt, Win."


Winnie bit the inside of her cheek, looking down. "Me getting shot wasn't his fault. I cause problems where ever I go, it's not him."


"You can't convince him otherwise," Scott lightly told her. "I tried to tell him to stay."


Winnie's expression changed, quickly looking up to Scott. "Leaving? He's leaving?"


The McCall boy didn't know how to respond, idly messing with his hands. "Boyd and Erica found - or think they found - another pack in the woods. They're going tonight, and Isaac's going with."


Winnie didn't speak, feeling like her throat was closing up. She looked away, rising from the spot on the bench. Lightly squeezing his shoulder in silent good luck, she went back around the bleachers. Although there was a soft haze of water over her stormy blue eyes, she took out her cell phone and called Isaac.


It rang,


     and rang,


          and rang.


Winnie's eyes shut, the brunette leaning her forehead on a cold beam of the bleachers. "Come on, Isaac," she whispered.


"You've reached Isaac. Sorry I missed your call but I'll get back to you as soon as I can. You know what to do."


The tone sounded, practically a punch in the face to Winnie.


Win ran a hand along her hair, "It's me." She got quiet for a moment, a tear falling down her cheek. "Please don't go, Isaac. You don't have to do this. I'm a mess, it's not your fault. I know what I've gotten into." She stood up from leaning on the bleachers, her phone still against her ear. "I could probably do this without you, but here's the thing. I don't want to. I don't want to do this without you. If I have to deal with lacrosse captain lizards, werewolves and the terrors of high school, I need you to do it with me. Please don't-"


The time allotted ran down, the voicemail cutting out.


Winnie lowered her phone from her ear, eyes glimmering with pain as her knuckles went white. She ran her sleeve under her eyes, walking back towards the lacrosse game that had already begun. She hid her pain, joining Sheriff Stilinski, Lydia, and Nurse McCall.


"Everything okay?" Stilinski asked with genuine wonder. His own son was good at hiding his emotions, and he could sense it on Winnie.


"Of course," Winnie replied with a slightly forced smile.


However, not everything was okay. In fact, nearly everything was not okay.


Including Stiles playing.


The ball flew into Stiles' net, 24 grinning widely...right before being body slammed to the ground.


The crowd winced, practically able to feel Stiles' pain.


"He's probably just warming up," Melissa suggested with little belief in her words.


Another play, another miss. The lacrosse ball few at Stiles, landing at his feet. He scrounged for it, attempting to scoop it up from the grass.


Until he got tackled...again.


The crowd winced, the sounds of Stiles hitting the ground audible.


"He's just a little nervous," offered Lydia with distant hope it was true. "Plenty of time to turn around."


He then attempted to catch the call with his face.


Winnie covered hers in the stands, lightly groaning. She'd never seen a game quite like this one. When she looked over to the players' bench, Finstock was shoving Scott back down. Her eyes widened, another body in a maroon uniform taking a seat next to Scott.


Isaac.


Winnie couldn't take her eyes off of him, able to see the confidence in his face as he said to Scott, 'I came to win.'


Isaac glanced over Scott's shoulder, winking at Winnie before pulling on his helmet.


Although distracted as Isaac was about to go onto the field, her hand twitched.


The brunette looked down at her free hand, biting the inside of her lip. None of the three she was with knew what she could do. She stood up, telling Stilinski she'd be back before leaving the stands.


Isaac got up from the bench as Winnie did, calling her name as Gerard grabbed the girl's bicep.


"Lahey!" Coach Finstock called, smacking the back of his head. "Get out there!"


Gerard, still holding Winnie in place, stared down Isaac to tell him to back off.


Isaac could hear Winnie's heartbeat sharpen from afar, hesitant to join his team.


Winnie didn't look at Gerard but didn't fight his arm. "Is going to the ladies' room a crime, sir?"


"You're shaking, Miss Jones," Gerard stiffly said with a tight hand around her bicep.


"It's cold."


Gerard wouldn't let go, "For California, maybe. But not for you."


"I know what you're doing," Winnie lowly said. "And it's not for your family anymore." She pulled her arm form his grip, "Which ever one of your men shot me, tell him he better haul ass out of town or he'll never make it out."


Gerard stared off after her, tense with a clenched fist. Anger and respect was evident on him.


Winnie sat at the nearest courtyard, still able to hear the lacrosse match as she pulled out her sketchbook with her good hand. Armed with only a pen, she was no longer looking at a page, but instead the woods.


Allison approached through a thin layer of fog, no longer herself as she drew back the string of her bow.


Winnie's head turned at Erica's voice, shouting for Boyd to run, the blonde on the ground with an arrow in her leg.


"Allison, stop!" Winnie yelled, trying to move. She felt like she was behind a glass wall, neither of the girls able to hear her.


Winnie was pulled backwards, her surroundings shifting violently as screams rang out. Her heart was going a mile a minute, bodies running past her away from the lacrosse field. She stood quickly, sweeping up her belongings before going against the current of fleeting fans.


The world felt like it was moving in slow motion, her waist suddenly being grabbed by a frantic Isaac Lahey.


The curly headed boy checked her over worriedly, "Are you okay? Win, your nose is bleeding." His hands were on her cheeks, breathing heavily. "What happened? Where did you go?"


Winnie looked spaced out, using her sleeve absently under her nose. "I...I don't know." Her sleeve came away red, her mind still racing. "What happened?"


"Come with me," Isaac said, taking Winnie's hand, bringing her towards the circle of lacrosse players.


The two came up next to Scott, Winnie peering in to see Jackson laying on the ground stiffly, Melissa on her knees to listen to his heart.


"There's no pulse."

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