Chapter 7: Trust and Lies
The school library was a sanctuary of silence, a place of hushed whispers and the soft rustle of turning pages. For Stiles, it was a research fortress. For Adam, it was a trap. He was in the non-fiction section, pretending to browse a book on Roman history, when Stiles materialized beside him. Stiles had the predator-like patience of a hunter, and a conspiratorial glint in his eyes that made Adam's stomach clench.
"So," Stiles said, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that still seemed to cut through the oppressive silence of the library. "The woods. Again."
Adam didn't look up from his book. "What about the woods?"
"You're a creature of habit, Adam. Or a creature of the night. It's a little unsettling."
"I like to clear my head," Adam said, the lie tasting like sawdust on his tongue.
"Yeah, well, last I checked, 'clearing your head' doesn't usually involve wandering through a crime scene at two in the morning," Stiles countered, his tone hardening just a fraction. He shifted, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a near-inaudible hiss. "I checked the Sheriff's incident reports. There was a second report filed. A private, non-official one. About an anonymous tipster leading them to a freshly-carved spiral on an oak tree. A spiral that wasn't there when the ME's office first swept the area."
Adam finally looked at him, his gaze level. He couldn't hide his surprise. Stiles had always been observant, but this was a whole new level of detective work. "That's… a coincidence."
"Is it?" Stiles's gaze was sharp, dissecting, a look Adam had only ever seen directed at a suspect in a TV show. "Adam, I saw you at the lacrosse practice. That reflex, that speed… it wasn't human. And now you're showing up at crime scenes before the cops do? You're not just 'different.' You're… supernatural."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy and raw. The System's rule, the one about not revealing his origins, suddenly felt like a chain tightening around his neck. He couldn't tell him the truth, but a full-blown lie would break the trust that was so crucial to their friendship.
"He's got me backed into a corner," Adam's internal monologue flared, an agitated, desperate thought process. He's a brilliant detective, a paranoid genius, and I've underestimated him. I can't just lie. Not to him. But I can't tell him the truth either. I'll have to weave a half-truth, a story with enough thread to feel real but with a core of pure fiction. A lie of omission. A partial truth.It's a delicate dance, and I can't afford to trip.
"Okay," Adam said, his voice so quiet it was barely a whisper. "You're right. I'm not human."
Stiles's eyes widened slightly. He had been expecting a fight, a denial, not this. He leaned back a little, a flicker of genuine shock on his face. "So what are you?"
Adam took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. The truth was too complex, so he had to find a simpler version, a narrative that fit the world they were in. "I… I was born different. My body, my senses… they're all hyper-tuned. I can do things… things that aren't normal. It's not a bite. It's a… a condition. A genetic thing, I guess."
He watched Stiles's face, searching for a reaction. He saw a brief flash of disbelief, then a flicker of something else—interest. Stiles was a man of logic and facts, and a "genetic condition" was a better, more palatable explanation than "transmigrator from another dimension with a sentient AI."
"It's like a mutation," Stiles whispered, a notebook and pen appearing in his hand as if by magic. "X-Men stuff? Or… a latent gene? Is that why you were drawn to the woods? A sort of... homing instinct for other supernaturals?"
Adam nodded, the partial truth feeling surprisingly easy to say. "Something like that."
Stiles was already scribbling furiously. "I knew it! The way your eyes track things, the way you move. It's like you're always one step ahead. It's not just intelligence; it's a physiological advantage." He looked up, his expression a mix of awe and renewed suspicion. "But what about that scent? You led them right to the Alpha's mark. Is that part of it? And what's this… data corruption?"
Adam stiffened, his carefully constructed half-truth threatening to collapse. He hadn't mentioned the data corruption to anyone. "You know about that?"
Stiles smiled, a wide, triumphant grin that was entirely unsettling. He pulled a thick, leather-bound book from his backpack, its pages yellowed and brittle. The title was in a forgotten language, but a hand-scrawled note in Stiles's own handwriting translated it: Obscure Mythical Bestiary, Vol. 4.
"I've been doing my own research," Stiles said, flipping through the pages. "The Sheriff's department, the incident reports, the historical records of Beacon Hills… there are gaps. Places where things happen that can't be explained. And your abilities… they don't match anything I've found on werewolves, or even Wendigos, or Kitsune. Not exactly." He stopped on a page, pointing to an illustration of a vague, almost formless creature.
"I found a reference to a creature called a 'mimic,'" Stiles said, his voice low and serious. "It's a parasitic entity that can copy the abilities of other supernatural beings. It's a myth, of course. But the descriptions… they sound a lot like what you're doing. And it says here that when a mimic tries to copy a new ability, the host body experiences a brief moment of 'data overload' or 'corruption' until the new power is fully integrated." He looked up, his eyes a little wide with awe and a whole lot of fear. "Is that what you are, Adam? A mimic?"
The lie was so perfect, so close to the truth, that Adam was stunned into silence. He hadn't even considered that Stiles, in his relentless pursuit of the truth, would stumble upon a mythological explanation that was so uncannily accurate. It was a beautiful, terrifying coincidence.
He gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Something like that. But don't tell Scott. I'm not a monster, but… I don't want him to think I'm a threat."
Stiles closed the book, his expression a complicated mix of relief and suspicion. "Okay. I won't. For now." He held the book up, a symbolic gesture. "But this changes things. From now on, you and I… we're a team. You have the abilities, I have the research. No more secrets. Well, no more big ones. We can work with this, Adam. You and me. We can figure it out."
Adam met his gaze. The trust was fragile now, tainted by the lie he had been forced to tell. But it was still there. Stiles was a true friend. Even when confronted with the bizarre, he chose to lean into the mystery, not away from it. He held out his hand, and Adam, after a moment of consideration, shook it. The strained truce was in place. Adam had a partner now, and he was no longer alone in this twisted, dangerous world. But every lie, no matter how well-intentioned, came with a cost. And Adam knew, deep in his gut, that this one would come back to haunt him.
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