Blurred Lines
from the ritz to the rubble.
TRUE TO STILES' WORD, Allison and Lydia were nice enough. They were nice enough to allow her to stay in their room, nice enough to offer polite conversation her way, but not nice enough to let her know what the hell was going on.
Hallie wasn't stupid. Granted, she had no bit of extraordinary brains in her head, but she wasn't daft enough to get that something— something about Beacon Hills and Boyd and, hell, probably that little group of friends they had— wasn't right. Just in the day, she has seen Isaac go psycho and beat some kid half to death, seen Boyd go psycho and punch through a machine, and been witness to the hushes conversations between Stiles and the girls about how Scott's acting weird, so is Boyd. He put his fist through the vending machine. And then Lydia's, 198 people, guys. 198 people killed themselves here. And the number went up by three.
Hallie tries not to listen in, she really does. It's impossible not to, though, and she can only pretend to be interested in her phone for so long. So, when there is a lull in conversation (after Stiles says something about sacrifices) Hallie finally speaks up.
"Hey," she says, and it's quiet, hesitant. "I— I know you don't really owe me an explanation and I understand if you don't tell me. But, if you can, I'm just kind of wondering what the hell is going on here. "
She's met with awkward cough by Stiles. "Hallie, it's sort of...maybe if it'd be better if you didn't know everything."
"Stiles," she starts, slowly. "I don't know if you noticed, but since I've come to Beacon Hills, I've seen some really messed up things. And— whatever it is, it can't be worse than finding a chopped up body in my bath tub."
There all quiet for a few moments after that, the only noise being Allison flipping through newspaper clippings that they had previously found in the room. Stiles is looking at Hallie like he's about to open his mouth, like he's just about to say something to possibly explain the weird events, but then Allison says "Oh my god," and it's a mess of hurried conversation and hushed tones between them and Hallie listens closely, but none of it makes sense. They're talking of suicides, now. According to the papers in Allison's hands, several have happened in the very room they were standing in.
And then — Hallie thinks she hears wrong, she definitely hears it wrong — because someone says something about werewolves (she really must've heard wrong, right?), and then everyone is barelling out of the room without a glance in her direction.
Of course, she did what anyone else in her position would do— she followed the three others. In the back of her mind, something was telling her that she shouldn't go, that'd be better off without knowing the truth of what was going on; however, Hallie had a bad habit of ignoring her own intuition. She was on their heels within seconds.
They were headed one way and then— oh, god, was that a saw turning on? They all freeze and head in the direction of the noise and, for the first time, Stiles acknowledges that she's there. Putting one hand on her arm and attempting to turn her in the other direction, he says, "Hallie, I want you to go back to the room. We'll be right there."
She shakes her head. "No, whatever is happening, I can handle. I'll— I'll help. I want to help."
"No, just — just stay out of this, alright? Here, just...okay, you want to help? Go see if you can find Isaac or Boyd." Hallie hesitates, and then Allison is yelling about how they have to get into the room right now! Stiles! With a shaky breath, Hallie turns away from the room, nodding to herself and not looking back when she hears them breaking down the door, or when she hears the saw get louder and the angry screams. It's repeating in her head, don't look back go find Isaac everything is okay, don't look back go find Isaac everything is okay.
Things aren't okay, though, not at all. After the whole 'corpse at her house' thing, Hallie figured things couldn't get much worse. And, technically, they didn't (not yet, at least). After a few statements from witnesses at her dad's work and statements from her and her mother, sheriff Stilinski cleared her family from being suspects; he had no explanation or leads, though. The case was up in the air, with everyone in town wondering about the Jacobs family, why they were the ones to come across it. Hallie only wished she knew. Her family was still staying at a hotel — they were told they could go back if they stayed clear of the bathroom, but Hallie begged her parents for just a few more days out of the house. Much to her own surprise, her parents had easily agreed.
And, so things could have been worse. Her parents (or her, even) could've been deemed murderers. It could have been one of them that was dead in that bathtub. But it wasn't — it was just some Jane Doe that couldn't be identified.
As she searched the motel for Isaac and Boyd, though, Hallie had that sick sort of feeling in the pit of her stomach that things were about to reach a whole new level of bad.
"Isaac?" she called, voice cracking. "Isaac? Boyd?"
It would have been helpful for Stiles to mention a room number, but he had bigger things to worry about, she supposed (like, y'know, locked doors and saws). Hallie wasn't keen on the notion of knocking on every single door until she found them, so instead, she stuck with calling their names.
"Boyd," she yelled. "Isaac?"
Her brain was telling her to get inside; she should go back to her original room, stay away from Stiles and Lydia and Allison, and forget about the whole night. Her stomach was telling her that she was going to be sick; she felt butterflies and fear, and it was such a strange, unfamiliar type of a sickening feeling that she was left wondering if she was just getting herself worked up. And then, her feet; they were dragging her in a direction she had no desire to go in, seeming to go against everything she was thinking. No, no, no, don't go that way.
Walking— jogging, actually— against her own will, Hallie's body only stopped when in front of a door of a room she didn't recognize. It wasn't her room, or Allison and Lydia's, or the one with the saw. And, before she could even stop herself, before she even knew what she was doing — her hand was up and knocking softly on the door.
She looked at her own hand with narrowed eyes because what the hell? It was like — it was like she couldn't even control herself. She told herself, turn around, go to your room, but no, her feet were planted, unwilling to move even an inch. It was like her feet weighed a hundred pounds and she couldn't manage to lift them. No one comes to the door and, again, as if her body has a mind of it's own, she feels her hand lifting. Instead of knocking, though, it's gripping the doorknob. Turning, clicking, pushing, feet forcing her to walk in and — oh.
Hallie is frozen. However, it is not because her feet feel glued to the ground this time; it's the way Isaac looked before her, curled in a ball on his bed, tears in his eyes and hands covering his ears.
"Uh, are you..." she trails off, swallowing hard and taking a step inside. "Isaac, are you alright?"
Everything from earlier — her anger and fear she felt when Isaac practically killed Ethan — seems to not matter so much anymore. It's Isaac, and she knows that she sort of barely knows the guy spare from a few awkward conversations, but she can't help the tug her heart does at the sight of him. "Isaac?" she tries again, voice soft. There's no reply other than a few mumbled words.
"Hey, hey, you're okay," Hallie murmurs. It's the same tone she uses to talk to little kids and puppies, soft and caring. "C'mon, Isaac, you're okay."
She's made her way over to the bed and fuck, he looks so pitiful. He's sweaty and his hair is a mess — Hallie thinks it looks like he ran his hands through it about a hundred times — and his clear eyes are red, glossy from the tears that had fallen. She doesn't know what to do and, tentively, reaches a hand to his arm. Isaac flinches into himself at her touch, starts breathing heavier, and then Hallie is sitting on the bed and has both of her hands taking his from his ears, her grip tight around his.
"You're okay, you're okay," she repeats to him like a mantra, her thumbs running circles on his palms. She notices her voice is strained and wonders why, exactly, she seems to be bothered so much by the fact that he's hurting. She puts it down to the fact that he was the first one to approach her that first day, and maybe she kind of owes it to him for attempting to be her friend. Maybe that's why she feels that tug. "Isaac, look at me, alright? You're okay. I'm here and you're safe; nothing is going to hurt you."
It's sort of crazy that she can even get the words out. She can taste the lie in her mouth. She can't ensure his safety; in fact, if whatever had scared him so much came in right now, she'd surely fail in any sort of fight. But the words seem to calm Isaac down. He seems to have stopped crying and mumbling, and his breathing is only slightly heightened. He's still shaking, though, leaning against the head board of the bed with his hands quivering in Hallie's grasp.
"Isaac, do you know where Boyd is? Is he okay?"
Unsprisingly, there is no sort of reply or acknowledgement from the boy. Hallie sighs, squeezes her eyes shut tight for a second while she tries to calm down her fast beating heart, and then bites her lip.
"Alright. Here, Isaac, we're going to go get some help, okay? Stiles, Allison — they want to keep you safe, too. Will you walk with me to go find them?"
There is a response this time; he shakes his head. No.
"Please? They really want to help and make sure you're okay. It be quick, I promise. Just hold my hand — like you are, yeah? And, yeah, if you're scared, just give it a squeeze," she tightens her grip for a second, showing him what she means. "And I'll help, okay? Please, Isaac?"
It's a shot in the dark— she has no clue what his reaction will be, whether he'll agree or start to cry or, hell, if he'll start to attack her like he did to Ethan. She waits patiently for a few seconds, preparing for whatever may happen, and then Isaac gives a barely percitable nod and alright, then, it's only moments before she's leading him too the others.
NO ONE SAYS ANYTHING when Hallie and Isaac arrive at the room, hand in hand. Or, they don't say anything about the hand holding, at least. Stiles is in front of Isaac in a second, though, looking him up and down and, when Hallie asks, Stiles says, "I'm checking to make sure he's not hurt." She doesn't bring herself to ask why he would be hurt in the first place.
"What was he doing?" Stiles asks, turning towards Hallie. "Was he just like this when you went in? Did you see Boyd? Is he talking?"
"He was just laying in bed, crying," Hallie tells him, a frown on her lips. She doesn't fail to realize that Isaac is still gripping her hand tight, holding it like a little kid would do to it's mother in a crowd. "No, I didn't see Boyd. And he was just kind of mumbling. Not too sure what he was saying, though."
Stiles lets out a long breath and nods, stepping back once he deems Isaac unhurt (obviously mentally distraught, but physically unharmed). Allison is talking about finding Scott and Lydia says that they need to find Boyd quickly. Hallie isn't too sure why those are the only ones they're focusing on— why those two and Isaac, of all people, are suddenly freaking out. She doesn't ask, figuring that would only lead to more confusion on her part. And, besides, Isaac is okay (er, kinda) so she assumes the others would be, too.
"I'll go look for Scott," Allison is saying, practically bounding out the door at that second. Lydia stops her, asks her if she wants her and Stiles to help, too, but Allison shakes her head. "No, you guys focus on Boyd. Hallie, just stay here with Isaac and make sure he's okay."
"If anything happens, just scream for us," Lydia tells Allison, and the brunette nods once more.
"Right, sounds like a plan," Stiles agrees, nodding. "The bus, we'll meet back there when we get them, okay? Hallie, keep Isaac here until one of us comes back and make sure he doesn't do anything to hurt himself."
It's a strange request — why would Isaac hurt himself? — but Hallie nods. Allison and Lydia have already left the room, intent on finding the other two boys. It takes Stiles a few more moments to leave, hesitant as he stands in the doorway and looks at the two who are now sitting on the bed. You shouldn't have gotten her so involved, he tells himself. She's going to get hurt or, worse, she's the one doing the hurting. Because, in all honesty, Stiles still has a feeling that something is related between Hallie's arrival and the darach. Too many things didn't add up.
But that didn't completely make sense, not really. He couldn't get himself to believe that Hallie wanted anyone hurt. There was no mistaking the fear in her blue eyes, the worry directed towards Isaac. Stiles couldn't wrap his head around it for the life of him.
Stiles leaves the room with a grimace on his face, and then Hallie is stuck with monitoring Isaac until the others return.
She continues to hold his hand, whisper to him that he's okay. And he seems a little better, sort of — he's even stopped shaking now, only staring blankly ahead. It's like Boyd at the vending machine, a complete numbness in his eyes. She just hoped that Isaac won't try to put a fist through anything.
They stay as they are, frozen on the edge of the bed with hands grasped tight, until the door flies open less than an hour later. A red-eyed Stiles flies in, wiping his eyes and clearing his throat as he does so. Hallie feels her grip on Isaac's hand tighten because, oh, lord, things can't be good if Stiles is crying.
But then Stiles clears his throat again and says, "We got them, everything is okay. C'mon, let's get out of here."
They head to the bus and Hallie sees the others — all of the group, Boyd and Scott included — all lounging on the uncomfortable faux leather seats. They look exhausted, sweat clouding Scott's face and Boyd already asleep and unshed tears in Allison's eyes. And, once again, she's stuck with an intense need to know what is going on. Because if she had any doubts before that something was off about the town and it's people, this whole thing was the icing on the cake. No one was making any effort to explain it to her, though, and she felt awkward just asking, especially when they were all so distraught. Later, she vows to herself. I will find out later.
So for then, she chooses a seat behind Stiles. With her head leaning against the window, she is only slightly surprised when she felt a presence next to her; it's Isaac, and he's still holding her hand (she vaguely wonders if it feels sweaty and disgusting) but he looks...sort of normal. He's no longer blankly staring and there is life in his eyes, not just numbness and fear.
"Hey," she whispers, half thinking she won't get a response.
Isaac opens his mouth to say something, then turns away for a second and, when he looks back at her, he's frowning. "Hallie? What— hey, what happened? Are you okay? Is everyone alright?"
She wonders if she should tell anyone on the bus, Stiles, at least, if Isaac is speaking like a normal human being. But they're all so tired and they've dealt with so much, so Hallie figures she could handle this one on her own.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," she tells him. She's suddenly aware of how close they are, knees touching knees and hands still touching hands and he's leaning towards her and his breath is hot against her face, and she can't make out many of his features in the darkness of the bus. "Everyone else is fine, too. It's— don't worry about it, Isaac. Everything is good. You're good."
"I don't remember anything." He's running a hand through his hair and finally, Hallie makes an effort to pull their entwined hands apart. She doesn't miss how he looks down, no doubt confused as to why they were holding hands in the first place. As if to completely clarify the fact that he is beyond confused, he says, "Seriously. What happened?"
With a sad smile on her lips, she gives a small shrug. "I know as much as you, honestly. It's just..." she pauses, hesitating. "It's better for everyone if we just stay in here for the night." He nods, and she could feel the slight movement as he fidgets next to her. "You don't — I mean, you could sleep in a different seat, if you want. You don't have to like, stay here with me."
She's being honest, because really, Isaac is back to his normal self, and he surely doesn't need her to babysit him for the rest of the night.
Hallie expects him to quickly leave, so when he let's out a breath and says, quietly, "Would you...do you mind if I do? Stay, I mean?," she's sort of caught off guard and can only manage to nod, and then she realizes he may not be able to see her nodding and let's out a quiet, uh, yeah, that's okay, yeah.
And, somehow, they finally get settled so that Isaac is against the window with his head against the cool glass, and Hallie's head is rested on his arm and she's curled as small she can go. She's tired, so tired, and so it doesn't take her long to fall into a light sleep. However, before darkness over takes her, all she can think about it this and tonight and him, and that feeling she has in her stomach that after tonight, everything has changed.
Hallie wasn't stupid. Granted, she had no bit of extraordinary brains in her head, but she wasn't daft enough to get that something— something about Beacon Hills and Boyd and, hell, probably that little group of friends they had— wasn't right. Just in the day, she has seen Isaac go psycho and beat some kid half to death, seen Boyd go psycho and punch through a machine, and been witness to the hushes conversations between Stiles and the girls about how Scott's acting weird, so is Boyd. He put his fist through the vending machine. And then Lydia's, 198 people, guys. 198 people killed themselves here. And the number went up by three.
Hallie tries not to listen in, she really does. It's impossible not to, though, and she can only pretend to be interested in her phone for so long. So, when there is a lull in conversation (after Stiles says something about sacrifices) Hallie finally speaks up.
"Hey," she says, and it's quiet, hesitant. "I— I know you don't really owe me an explanation and I understand if you don't tell me. But, if you can, I'm just kind of wondering what the hell is going on here. "
She's met with awkward cough by Stiles. "Hallie, it's sort of...maybe if it'd be better if you didn't know everything."
"Stiles," she starts, slowly. "I don't know if you noticed, but since I've come to Beacon Hills, I've seen some really messed up things. And— whatever it is, it can't be worse than finding a chopped up body in my bath tub."
There all quiet for a few moments after that, the only noise being Allison flipping through newspaper clippings that they had previously found in the room. Stiles is looking at Hallie like he's about to open his mouth, like he's just about to say something to possibly explain the weird events, but then Allison says "Oh my god," and it's a mess of hurried conversation and hushed tones between them and Hallie listens closely, but none of it makes sense. They're talking of suicides, now. According to the papers in Allison's hands, several have happened in the very room they were standing in.
And then — Hallie thinks she hears wrong, she definitely hears it wrong — because someone says something about werewolves (she really must've heard wrong, right?), and then everyone is barelling out of the room without a glance in her direction.
Of course, she did what anyone else in her position would do— she followed the three others. In the back of her mind, something was telling her that she shouldn't go, that'd be better off without knowing the truth of what was going on; however, Hallie had a bad habit of ignoring her own intuition. She was on their heels within seconds.
They were headed one way and then— oh, god, was that a saw turning on? They all freeze and head in the direction of the noise and, for the first time, Stiles acknowledges that she's there. Putting one hand on her arm and attempting to turn her in the other direction, he says, "Hallie, I want you to go back to the room. We'll be right there."
She shakes her head. "No, whatever is happening, I can handle. I'll— I'll help. I want to help."
"No, just — just stay out of this, alright? Here, just...okay, you want to help? Go see if you can find Isaac or Boyd." Hallie hesitates, and then Allison is yelling about how they have to get into the room right now! Stiles! With a shaky breath, Hallie turns away from the room, nodding to herself and not looking back when she hears them breaking down the door, or when she hears the saw get louder and the angry screams. It's repeating in her head, don't look back go find Isaac everything is okay, don't look back go find Isaac everything is okay.
Things aren't okay, though, not at all. After the whole 'corpse at her house' thing, Hallie figured things couldn't get much worse. And, technically, they didn't (not yet, at least). After a few statements from witnesses at her dad's work and statements from her and her mother, sheriff Stilinski cleared her family from being suspects; he had no explanation or leads, though. The case was up in the air, with everyone in town wondering about the Jacobs family, why they were the ones to come across it. Hallie only wished she knew. Her family was still staying at a hotel — they were told they could go back if they stayed clear of the bathroom, but Hallie begged her parents for just a few more days out of the house. Much to her own surprise, her parents had easily agreed.
And, so things could have been worse. Her parents (or her, even) could've been deemed murderers. It could have been one of them that was dead in that bathtub. But it wasn't — it was just some Jane Doe that couldn't be identified.
As she searched the motel for Isaac and Boyd, though, Hallie had that sick sort of feeling in the pit of her stomach that things were about to reach a whole new level of bad.
"Isaac?" she called, voice cracking. "Isaac? Boyd?"
It would have been helpful for Stiles to mention a room number, but he had bigger things to worry about, she supposed (like, y'know, locked doors and saws). Hallie wasn't keen on the notion of knocking on every single door until she found them, so instead, she stuck with calling their names.
"Boyd," she yelled. "Isaac?"
Her brain was telling her to get inside; she should go back to her original room, stay away from Stiles and Lydia and Allison, and forget about the whole night. Her stomach was telling her that she was going to be sick; she felt butterflies and fear, and it was such a strange, unfamiliar type of a sickening feeling that she was left wondering if she was just getting herself worked up. And then, her feet; they were dragging her in a direction she had no desire to go in, seeming to go against everything she was thinking. No, no, no, don't go that way.
Walking— jogging, actually— against her own will, Hallie's body only stopped when in front of a door of a room she didn't recognize. It wasn't her room, or Allison and Lydia's, or the one with the saw. And, before she could even stop herself, before she even knew what she was doing — her hand was up and knocking softly on the door.
She looked at her own hand with narrowed eyes because what the hell? It was like — it was like she couldn't even control herself. She told herself, turn around, go to your room, but no, her feet were planted, unwilling to move even an inch. It was like her feet weighed a hundred pounds and she couldn't manage to lift them. No one comes to the door and, again, as if her body has a mind of it's own, she feels her hand lifting. Instead of knocking, though, it's gripping the doorknob. Turning, clicking, pushing, feet forcing her to walk in and — oh.
Hallie is frozen. However, it is not because her feet feel glued to the ground this time; it's the way Isaac looked before her, curled in a ball on his bed, tears in his eyes and hands covering his ears.
"Uh, are you..." she trails off, swallowing hard and taking a step inside. "Isaac, are you alright?"
Everything from earlier — her anger and fear she felt when Isaac practically killed Ethan — seems to not matter so much anymore. It's Isaac, and she knows that she sort of barely knows the guy spare from a few awkward conversations, but she can't help the tug her heart does at the sight of him. "Isaac?" she tries again, voice soft. There's no reply other than a few mumbled words.
"Hey, hey, you're okay," Hallie murmurs. It's the same tone she uses to talk to little kids and puppies, soft and caring. "C'mon, Isaac, you're okay."
She's made her way over to the bed and fuck, he looks so pitiful. He's sweaty and his hair is a mess — Hallie thinks it looks like he ran his hands through it about a hundred times — and his clear eyes are red, glossy from the tears that had fallen. She doesn't know what to do and, tentively, reaches a hand to his arm. Isaac flinches into himself at her touch, starts breathing heavier, and then Hallie is sitting on the bed and has both of her hands taking his from his ears, her grip tight around his.
"You're okay, you're okay," she repeats to him like a mantra, her thumbs running circles on his palms. She notices her voice is strained and wonders why, exactly, she seems to be bothered so much by the fact that he's hurting. She puts it down to the fact that he was the first one to approach her that first day, and maybe she kind of owes it to him for attempting to be her friend. Maybe that's why she feels that tug. "Isaac, look at me, alright? You're okay. I'm here and you're safe; nothing is going to hurt you."
It's sort of crazy that she can even get the words out. She can taste the lie in her mouth. She can't ensure his safety; in fact, if whatever had scared him so much came in right now, she'd surely fail in any sort of fight. But the words seem to calm Isaac down. He seems to have stopped crying and mumbling, and his breathing is only slightly heightened. He's still shaking, though, leaning against the head board of the bed with his hands quivering in Hallie's grasp.
"Isaac, do you know where Boyd is? Is he okay?"
Unsprisingly, there is no sort of reply or acknowledgement from the boy. Hallie sighs, squeezes her eyes shut tight for a second while she tries to calm down her fast beating heart, and then bites her lip.
"Alright. Here, Isaac, we're going to go get some help, okay? Stiles, Allison — they want to keep you safe, too. Will you walk with me to go find them?"
There is a response this time; he shakes his head. No.
"Please? They really want to help and make sure you're okay. It be quick, I promise. Just hold my hand — like you are, yeah? And, yeah, if you're scared, just give it a squeeze," she tightens her grip for a second, showing him what she means. "And I'll help, okay? Please, Isaac?"
It's a shot in the dark— she has no clue what his reaction will be, whether he'll agree or start to cry or, hell, if he'll start to attack her like he did to Ethan. She waits patiently for a few seconds, preparing for whatever may happen, and then Isaac gives a barely percitable nod and alright, then, it's only moments before she's leading him too the others.
NO ONE SAYS ANYTHING when Hallie and Isaac arrive at the room, hand in hand. Or, they don't say anything about the hand holding, at least. Stiles is in front of Isaac in a second, though, looking him up and down and, when Hallie asks, Stiles says, "I'm checking to make sure he's not hurt." She doesn't bring herself to ask why he would be hurt in the first place.
"What was he doing?" Stiles asks, turning towards Hallie. "Was he just like this when you went in? Did you see Boyd? Is he talking?"
"He was just laying in bed, crying," Hallie tells him, a frown on her lips. She doesn't fail to realize that Isaac is still gripping her hand tight, holding it like a little kid would do to it's mother in a crowd. "No, I didn't see Boyd. And he was just kind of mumbling. Not too sure what he was saying, though."
Stiles lets out a long breath and nods, stepping back once he deems Isaac unhurt (obviously mentally distraught, but physically unharmed). Allison is talking about finding Scott and Lydia says that they need to find Boyd quickly. Hallie isn't too sure why those are the only ones they're focusing on— why those two and Isaac, of all people, are suddenly freaking out. She doesn't ask, figuring that would only lead to more confusion on her part. And, besides, Isaac is okay (er, kinda) so she assumes the others would be, too.
"I'll go look for Scott," Allison is saying, practically bounding out the door at that second. Lydia stops her, asks her if she wants her and Stiles to help, too, but Allison shakes her head. "No, you guys focus on Boyd. Hallie, just stay here with Isaac and make sure he's okay."
"If anything happens, just scream for us," Lydia tells Allison, and the brunette nods once more.
"Right, sounds like a plan," Stiles agrees, nodding. "The bus, we'll meet back there when we get them, okay? Hallie, keep Isaac here until one of us comes back and make sure he doesn't do anything to hurt himself."
It's a strange request — why would Isaac hurt himself? — but Hallie nods. Allison and Lydia have already left the room, intent on finding the other two boys. It takes Stiles a few more moments to leave, hesitant as he stands in the doorway and looks at the two who are now sitting on the bed. You shouldn't have gotten her so involved, he tells himself. She's going to get hurt or, worse, she's the one doing the hurting. Because, in all honesty, Stiles still has a feeling that something is related between Hallie's arrival and the darach. Too many things didn't add up.
But that didn't completely make sense, not really. He couldn't get himself to believe that Hallie wanted anyone hurt. There was no mistaking the fear in her blue eyes, the worry directed towards Isaac. Stiles couldn't wrap his head around it for the life of him.
Stiles leaves the room with a grimace on his face, and then Hallie is stuck with monitoring Isaac until the others return.
She continues to hold his hand, whisper to him that he's okay. And he seems a little better, sort of — he's even stopped shaking now, only staring blankly ahead. It's like Boyd at the vending machine, a complete numbness in his eyes. She just hoped that Isaac won't try to put a fist through anything.
They stay as they are, frozen on the edge of the bed with hands grasped tight, until the door flies open less than an hour later. A red-eyed Stiles flies in, wiping his eyes and clearing his throat as he does so. Hallie feels her grip on Isaac's hand tighten because, oh, lord, things can't be good if Stiles is crying.
But then Stiles clears his throat again and says, "We got them, everything is okay. C'mon, let's get out of here."
They head to the bus and Hallie sees the others — all of the group, Boyd and Scott included — all lounging on the uncomfortable faux leather seats. They look exhausted, sweat clouding Scott's face and Boyd already asleep and unshed tears in Allison's eyes. And, once again, she's stuck with an intense need to know what is going on. Because if she had any doubts before that something was off about the town and it's people, this whole thing was the icing on the cake. No one was making any effort to explain it to her, though, and she felt awkward just asking, especially when they were all so distraught. Later, she vows to herself. I will find out later.
So for then, she chooses a seat behind Stiles. With her head leaning against the window, she is only slightly surprised when she felt a presence next to her; it's Isaac, and he's still holding her hand (she vaguely wonders if it feels sweaty and disgusting) but he looks...sort of normal. He's no longer blankly staring and there is life in his eyes, not just numbness and fear.
"Hey," she whispers, half thinking she won't get a response.
Isaac opens his mouth to say something, then turns away for a second and, when he looks back at her, he's frowning. "Hallie? What— hey, what happened? Are you okay? Is everyone alright?"
She wonders if she should tell anyone on the bus, Stiles, at least, if Isaac is speaking like a normal human being. But they're all so tired and they've dealt with so much, so Hallie figures she could handle this one on her own.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," she tells him. She's suddenly aware of how close they are, knees touching knees and hands still touching hands and he's leaning towards her and his breath is hot against her face, and she can't make out many of his features in the darkness of the bus. "Everyone else is fine, too. It's— don't worry about it, Isaac. Everything is good. You're good."
"I don't remember anything." He's running a hand through his hair and finally, Hallie makes an effort to pull their entwined hands apart. She doesn't miss how he looks down, no doubt confused as to why they were holding hands in the first place. As if to completely clarify the fact that he is beyond confused, he says, "Seriously. What happened?"
With a sad smile on her lips, she gives a small shrug. "I know as much as you, honestly. It's just..." she pauses, hesitating. "It's better for everyone if we just stay in here for the night." He nods, and she could feel the slight movement as he fidgets next to her. "You don't — I mean, you could sleep in a different seat, if you want. You don't have to like, stay here with me."
She's being honest, because really, Isaac is back to his normal self, and he surely doesn't need her to babysit him for the rest of the night.
Hallie expects him to quickly leave, so when he let's out a breath and says, quietly, "Would you...do you mind if I do? Stay, I mean?," she's sort of caught off guard and can only manage to nod, and then she realizes he may not be able to see her nodding and let's out a quiet, uh, yeah, that's okay, yeah.
And, somehow, they finally get settled so that Isaac is against the window with his head against the cool glass, and Hallie's head is rested on his arm and she's curled as small she can go. She's tired, so tired, and so it doesn't take her long to fall into a light sleep. However, before darkness over takes her, all she can think about it this and tonight and him, and that feeling she has in her stomach that after tonight, everything has changed.
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dang it this is long af i sorry