Poisoned, but not dead.

That was the state Rachel was told the nogitsune was in when she woke. Deaton had arrived just in time to inject the fox with wolf lichen, he explained to them how it poisoned it and how long the effects would allow Stiles to regain control for, but Rachel wasn't listening. The only thing she could hear were the same five words, repeating in her mind over and over again. So much, that they didn't even sound like words to her anymore.

Find me where you belong.

Where did she belong?

In a pile of ash. In a box six feet underground, surrounded by the cold earth. In a hospital bed, comatose, instead of Isaac. There were a lot of places Rachel believed she belonged, but they didn't seem to be places the nogitsune would willingly go.

The way she understood it, he was now the one trapped in the backseat of Stiles' head, able to do nothing but watch as Stiles maintained full control. He could taunt and torment him each time he shut his eyes, but he could no longer play the role of a puppeteer. There was no possible way he could force Stiles to go to whatever it is that he believed Rachel belonged.

Unless.

He knew something they didn't. He knew everything that went on in Stiles' head. Every thought, every scheme, every intricate little plan that he so much as considered. Not a single thought was Stiles' own anymore, and the nogitsune used that to his advantage. He knew Stiles was going to lock himself up, somewhere he wouldn't be able to get out when the demon in his mind regained control. Somewhere only his friends could get to him, should they decide to entertain him with another of their plans.

He knew Stiles was going to commit himself to Eichen House, and he knew the building's history all too well— he knew about the closed unit, the real closed unit, for everything that lurks in the darkness of Beacon Hills. Once he got her in the building, she would expose her supernatural side all on her own, and before she knew it, she'd be where she truly belonged. Somewhere her friends couldn't get to her, ever again.

She wanted to be out of the game, and he was going to take her out of it.

It wasn't because she wouldn't play like Scott and the others, though. Her pain was entertaining, and he could have just as much fun bringing Isaac back only to take him away again for good. It was because Rachel was different. She was something he'd never seen before, something he wasn't sure even was supernatural, and he didn't like different. She couldn't kill him, that was for sure, but being unaware of her capabilities made her a liability when it came to his game.

She was a wildcard, and there were no wildcards allowed in his game— what did people do when there were unnecessary wildcards in the deck? They took them out, and put them back in the box they belonged in. Rachel Hale belonged in a box where she couldn't disrupt any more of the trickster's tricks.

It didn't take long for Rachel to realize after hearing Stiles planned on committing himself to Eichen house for 72 hours that the nogitsune wanted her to follow. Why? She had no clue. She didn't belong in a psych ward, she was a hell of a lot saner than most people in Beacon Hills, but she wasn't about to argue with the demonic fox possessing her best friend. She probably would've if she could've, but that option was off the table.

The only option left was to check herself into Eichen House for 72hrs.

It wasn't easy, that's for sure. Not only did she have to avoid Derek, but Scott as well, who conveniently followed Stiles to Eichen on his motorbike in attempt to talk him out of it. If it was a plan the nogitsune knew of, it was a plan he'd been working on for some time now, and there was no talking him out of it. But Rachel didn't have the heart to tell him that.

She got away from Derek at the loft without suspicion. He was leaving her alone and giving her space, which she was grateful for, but also saddened by. A part of her wished he'd just hug her and tell her it was going to be okay, but Derek was a bad liar. She wouldn't have minded if it'd been Peter instead, even if she did still despise him for killing Laura— she really just wanted someone to hug her, but she didn't want to have to tell them to because then it was pointless. She wanted them to do it because they actually gave a damn that she was heartbroken, and not because she told them to.

Perhaps it was better that Peter wasn't around, because he only would've said "I told you so" if he knew of her idiocy. Derek would only think it, rather than say it aloud. Maybe he wouldn't even do that. Maybe, in a perfect world, the two Hale siblings would actually be able to communicate and care about more than just whether they're still alive.

The world they were in was far from perfect though, and Rachel knew that all too well as she pulled into the parking lot of Eichen House. Scott and Sheriff Stilinski had left over half an hour ago. Rachel had been hiding in her Porsche on a dirt road off the highway the entire time, and was now relatively sure they weren't coming back until Stiles was discharged from the facility. If they were, too bad, because she'd already be inside and in the process of checking in.

The brunette exited her Porsche, double clicking the lock button on her keys as she slowly eased away from the vehicle. The large iron gates guarding Eichen House looked extremely intimidating, even more so as she grew closer and took notice of the small keypad on the side of the stone pillar. It was so new arrivals could contact the front desk to be let in, and current occupants couldn't escape. The top of the gate, like the rest of the fence, was liked with sharp iron spikes, with the title "Eichen House" written in iron just below them.

Rachel was just about to reach for the button on the keypad to page the front desk when a hand on her shoulder stopped her dead in her tracks. She jumped at the sudden contact and spun around, a groan escaping her lips as she saw who it was. "Really?"

"Really?" Peter repeated in a tone identical to hers, only with far more bitchiness to it as if to mock her. "You're about to commit yourself to an insane asylum, and you're questioning me?"

"Yeah, I am." Rachel deadpanned. "You followed me."

"You're being an idiot and I'm trying to help guide you in the right direction." Peter informed her, looking unimpressed as usual. "Which, by the way, is not the way you were going."

"I'm going to find Stiles."

"And what are you going to do when you find him? Kill him?"

"I would never kill Stiles." Rachel snapped, glaring daggers at her uncle. Murder being his first assumption even when it came to their closest friends and allies was exactly why nobody liked him— it was always about killing people, and never about saving them. She was here to save a life, not to end one.

"You haven't exactly done much to help him." Peter shrugged. "If you'd have just let me give him the bite instead of talking him out of it, none of this would've happened. You'd be back at Scott's house, still ignoring your brother like the annoyingly autonomous teenager you are, and I'd be at my apartment, watching reality television like I do every Wednesday."

"Please, tell me more about how Stiles being possessed is all my fault, when you're the one who turned Scott into a werewolf in the first place and killed my sister."

"I was driven insane."

"Yeah, and Isaac's gonna be too if I don't give the nogitsune what he wants." The chimera shot back, her hands curling into tight fists. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands until they bled, and focused on the pain to distract from her growing anxiety. "Becoming like you is a fate worse than death, and I'll do a hell of a lot more than spend 72hrs in the psych ward to make sure that never happens. The nogitsune wants my pain, but he can't take it if I don't remember it. I just need to find a way to remember so I can give it to him in exchange for—"

"You're an idiot if you think a nogitsune is going to help you." Peter cut her off, growing tired of listening to the rambling of a lovesick teenager. "You're an idiot for thinking any part of your little plan is going to work. Especially the part where you tricked me into following you, so I'd sign the admittance forms."

Shit. Rachel might've lured Peter out with her by being obvious enough to catch his watchful eyes but inconspicuous enough to bypass Derek's radar completely— she was only seventeen years old and couldn't just waltz into a psych ward requesting a room. She needed to be committed by a parent or guardian, and being her biological uncle, Peter could class as a guardian. Probably not a legal one, but nothing he did was legal, and Eichen House didn't exactly seem like the type of place to ask for proof of guardianship.

"You helped Derek get Ennis to turn Paige." Rachel argued. "You knew it could've killed her, but you still did it. This won't kill me or Isaac."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." The former alpha countered, seeming far more truthful than when he'd told the warped story of how Paige was (almost) turned. "Eichen House has a dark past, and it isn't safe, especially not for someone like you. The minute you step into that building you're going to be walking on cracked glass, and if it breaks.."

"I'll tread lightly." The younger Hale interrupted him before he could finish his sentence with something she didn't want to hear. He meant every word he said, she could see a hint of genuine concern on his face. It something she hadn't seen in a very long time on him, and it scared her. But not enough. "Please."

"Fine."

—

"For the first seventy-two hours, there's no phone calls, no e-mails and no visitors." The nurse at the front desk explained to Rachel. She was around thirty-five, but the deep lines on her face made her look far older— working in a mental asylum wasn't a job for someone who wanted to maintain their youth. "We will be taking you from here to a brief physical. In the morning you'll be assessed by a staff psychologist, speak to a social worker and attend group therapy."

Rachel nodded, flinching as a door slammed loudly. She definitely wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight if the doors didn't stop being buzzed open and slammed shut. What ever happened to good old fashioned padlocks?

"You'll be wearing these, Rachel." The nurse slid a pair of slippers over the counter to her. "No laces allowed."

Rachel glanced down at her flip-flops & mentally congratulated herself for coming prepared. She kicked them off and slid on the slippers, momentarily hoping the soft plush would bring a sense of comfort and warmth, but it did exactly the opposite. Wearing slippers on the linoleum floor felt strangely wrong.

"You don't have a belt, do you?"

She was wearing an old pair of sweatpants with the drawstring pulled out of the waistband because it'd gotten on her nerves. It scared her how well she fit in.

"Please empty your pockets in here." The nurse slid a plastic bin across the counter, similar to one you'd use when washing dishes by hand.

Rachel didn't have any pockets, but she was wearing a necklace. She had almost forgot about it, as she always did; it had become a part of her over time. It was a gift from her mother, she hadn't taken it off in years, and the thought of doing so only to leave it in a plastic bin at the mercy of the psych ward desk lady sickened her.

The little golden half moon charm was hidden beneath the neck of her t-shirt, but the chain itself was visible about her neck, so there was no hiding it. Dammit. Rachel hesitantly reached around to the back of her neck where the clasp was, fiddling with it for a second before finally hooking her nail on the little lever to open it. She removed the necklace, but didn't place it in the bin.

She turned back to face her uncle, putting on as stern of a face as she could manage. "I want this back." And I'll kill you to get it.

Rachel left off the last bit, for the sake of him leaving her here and remaining quiet about it. She didn't doubt Peter would go and tell Derek just as soon as he left, but once she was committed, she was committed. Derek couldn't do anything to get her out, and she didn't want him to. This was her choice. This was her trying to save someone she loved, because they were shit out of options and shit out of luck.

Peter nodded and didn't question her statement, but didn't leave her. He still wasn't fully on board with this, and it was clear to him by the speed of her heart that she wasn't either. "Last chance."

Unknowingly, his words hit a nerve that solidified her decision and erased any doubt. They were the same words that the nogitsune had said to her, and they reminded her of what she was truly here for.

This was her last chance, and she was taking it.

—

"You smell familiar."

Rachel expected a lot of things nowadays; being woken up by gunfire, being woken up by the sound of a gun loading next to her head, being woken up by being beaten or shot.. but being woken up by those three words, she had never expected that. She would never expect that. She also would never expect to open her eyes to see her potentially insane roommate leaning over her, but she did, and if not for the girl covering her mouth, she would've screamed bloody murder.

"Don't scream." She told her calmly, as if annoyed by her horror. "They get the Haldol when you scream."

"What the fuck?" Rachel whisper-yelled once her roommate uncovered her mouth. She moved away from the girl and sat up, leaning against the wall to get as far from her as possible.

"You don't need to whisper, either." The girl gave her an odd look, like she didn't understand why Rachel was so freaked out. "Who are you?"

"I'm Rachel, your roommate.."

"I don't want a roommate." She responded bluntly, as if Rachel could just go to the front desk and request a new room.

Neither do I. Especially not a weird one that wakes me up by telling me I smell familiar. How would one even reach that conclusion? She wasn't wearing perfume, and the smoke scent from living in her old home had faded significantly. Unless the girl had supernatural senses, Rachel didn't have a scent distinctive enough to be remembered.. there's one way to find out.

Rachel pondered over the idea for a few seconds and quickly deemed the reward greater than the risk. Here's hoping this still works. She glanced up at the girl, who was still staring at her, and focused hard as she made direct eye contact. Nothing happened at first, and it was merely an awkward staring contest that only one of them seemed to acknowledge. But then, just as she was losing hope in her theory, the blonde's eyes slowly took on a bright blue glow.

Rachel's flickered silver and mimicked it, both teens equally surprised by the exchange. Rachel, mostly because she was still able to reflect if she concentrated, but the girl.. she was a mix of confused and agitated. She now knew she recognized Rachel's scent from the woods the day she'd been turned human again, and for that reason alone, she disliked her.

"You're Malia Tate, the coyote Scott turned back into a human." Rachel stated the obvious, dumbfounded as to how she'd ended up in the same room as the girl, let alone the same place. She expected Malia to be at home, living her life, not in a psych ward. "What are you doing here?"

"You mean the coyote whose home Scott invaded and put on the run." Malia replied, no longer looking confused and curious but rather extremely annoyed. "I was cold and couldn't change back so I made a new den in the closet. My dad thought my animalistic behaviour was a sign of PSTD or something."

"PTSD." Rachel corrected, but regretted it when the werecoyote growled at her. "Never mind, uh, do you remember Stiles? He helped Scott find you, his dad's the one who reopened your case file and realized something was off.." the girl stared blankly back at her, so Rachel continued. "He's here. In Eichen House—"

Malia walked over to the door, opened it and left before Rachel could even finish her sentence.

"Okay then." Rachel mumbled quietly, momentarily debating on whether or no she wanted to follow. She decided to, partially because she wanted to explore a little bit before group therapy, and partially because Malia was furious.

Having her roommate kill her best friend on her first day in the psych ward was not something Rachel ever thought she'd have to worry about, but she was definitely mildly concerned. The brunette opened the door and stepped out into the hall, looking to her left, then to her right. The right led further down the hallway to more patient rooms, whereas the left went back out into the main hallway. According to her memory, anyway.

She had only been down the left path once, when she first came to her room last night, and she was in a daze. Rachel was too busy overthinking to remember the floor plan, so making it out to the porch took a few minutes of wrong turns and hesitation. Luckily for her, she rounded the corner just in time to see Malia sucker punch Stiles.

Rachel had vaguely heard him moment prior trying to remind Malia of the part he played in restoring her humanity (her abilities still being that of a werecoyote), and knowing what she knew now, she wasn't really surprised to see the outcome. Malia wanted to be a coyote. Stiles and Scott took that away from her. They sent her back to live with her father, who she had to look at every day, knowing she killed his wife and daughter.

It wasn't her fault she lost control. Rachel had lost control and hurt people before, and she wasn't even a real werewolf. She'd seen both Cora and Derek lose control firsthand. Derek struggled for years. Even Scott struggled at first, and nearly killed Stiles. It was a part of being what they were, even more so for those who were born with the power. Rachel could still remember all the times Cora left school early as the full moons approached, because being around so many people scared her.

Stiles didn't understand her guilt, but Rachel did— she needed to help him. She took a step forward, watching as orderlies rushed in and restrained the two, one slammed Stiles down on the ground while another got Malia. Rachel was going to try and talk to them, but stopped in her tracks as she felt a needle prick her neck.

She turned around, blue eyes blazing brightly. That was her second mistake. Her first mistake had been showing her silver eyes within view of the small window on the door; Malia's back had been to it, but Rachel was standing in just the right place to be seen by an orderly passing by— an orderly who handled the special patients.

"It seems as though we've made a mistake." The orderly stated as he grabbed her arms, the chimera able to do nothing but slump over as he dragged her down the hallway. Her consciousness was fading fast, but she didn't miss his final words. "We'll be relocating you to the closed unit. Where you belong."

—

UNEDITED.

honestly so read for the malia & rachel brotp. even more ready for season 5 so the chimera queen can finally become acquainted with the chimera king. i already have so much planned and i'm not even done this book. i do know the ending though, so there's that. i always plan the beginning and end of my books, and then just improvise everything in between because i'm horrible at sticking to one idea. i'm very bad at a lot of things.

these next few chapters are going to be centred around rachel more so than anyone else, and that may mean i skip an episode or two or a few scenes, which i hope you guys don't mind. i love writing off-script scenes. you already know the preexisting characters' stories, i'm not here to retell them, i'm here to tell you rachel's story.

ps. theo deserved to be in the pack & in the final scene. fight me.