keeper (d. Hale)

find.

"NOAH, where is he!?" Delilah cried as she blew into the police station with the chaos of a raging storm. 

The glass door she had thrown open in her haste to enter the building, bounced off the opposite wall. The vibrations shook the wanted poster bulletin next to it with enough force to send various notices flying across the floor.

"Del, just a second," Derek said as he was hot on her heels and stepping over the crudely drawn representations of the Oni.

Agent McCall must still be upset from his run in with them, if he had the station plastered with their wanted poster.

Derek's phone was pressed to his ear as he continued his low conversation and tried to close the door behind him without inflicting any further damage. The task seemed increasingly difficult as he juggled their helmets in his arms.

"Yeah she did... up now... okay up the dosage? You said it wouldn't be good for her... fine... fine!"

"Noah!" Delilah cried again as she stood trembling in front of Tara's old desk. 

The recently deceased deputy's name plate was placed on shelf next to her uniformed photo in the station display cabinet just outside of Noah's office. It was a small memorial and more than most received in the town but the sight of her friends old work station did nothing to prevent the curl of her fists.

It was times like this, when her heart was beating out of her chest in a slew of fear and unresolved sorrow that Delilah truly hated Beacon Hills.

"Del, what's wrong?" Noah asked as he rushed out of his office from behind the deputy desks. The top button of his uniform was undone and dark circles were prevalent under his eyes. He, like a lot of others in their lives were currently reevaluating their relationship with sleep.

"Stiles, he's lost. He called..." Delilah began to hyperventilate. 

"Stiles should be at home asleep.. What are you... Derek?!" Noah called out as he looked at Delilah with concern. Her breathing was erratic and her eyes were wildly flittering around the room. 

Noah's hands hovering over her shoulders to stop her from falling over in her panicked state. Hovering, being the key word, as he worried contact with anyone outside of her husband might set her off and explaining to the new hires in the station why the small woman was out for blood, seemed like an undertaking he did not want to endure for the night.

"Derek?" He asked again. He swore he heard him come in with her. They were honestly never far a part. 

"Ma'am, take a seat here, here." 

Noah snapped to attention as one of the new deputies the county had hired appeared at his side and gently helped guide Delilah into the chair he had brought over from one of the empty desks. He was mindful to not touch her and for good reason. He thought the woman looked crazed and was weary she might last out. He only wanted to calm her.

"Parrish," Noah snapped.

The hand he held just inches above her elbow was abruptly removed from the shaking woman's vicinity as Derek appeared at her side.

The deputy, identified as Parrish, received a scathing look from the dark haired man pushing him away from the still sobbing Delilah. He was no doubt displeased with him for invading her personal space, even if it was with good intensions. 

Its effect sent an icy chill down Parrish's spine as he swore the eyes set on him went from green to a frosted blue. 

Parrish sent Noah an uneasy look over his shoulder and silently asked for help.