A/N I originally posted this elsewhere but the site isn't working right so I'm posting it here too just so I can link people to it. It's the 30 day OTP challenge.

The first time Deputy Parrish held my hand, he did it without thinking. He wasn't trying to romance me or comfort me in any kind of way, he wasn't even trying to lead me somewhere. In fact, I think he would have preferred I didn't follow him through the secret passageway into the hidden freezer. He held my hand so he knew exactly where I was, so he knew I wasn't wandering off and finding dead bodies on my own. He held my hand to make sure I stayed behind him, out of immediate danger.

I think it was the police officer in him acting unconsciously. His need to protect people was so profound that he put himself between danger and other people without even thinking about it. He barely knew me at the time. I had seen him once before when I was picking up Stiles from the police station, and yet here he was, ready to jump in to a potentially dangerous situation, protecting me.

The second time he held my hand, he was trying to comfort me. In the span of an hour, I had been tasered, I had heard my Grandma being murdered, I'd nearly been murdered myself, I'd seen a nurse shot to death, inches away from me and I had found out that Meredith, the person who I thought I had pushed to suicide, was alive and trying to kill us all.

He had put Meredith in cuffs, released Stiles and I from the chains, called in the situation at the station and called for an ambulance. Stiles was still trying to come to terms with everything, grilling Meredith for her motive before the police come to take her into confinement until they questioned her themselves.

I couldn't move though. I sat pressed against the scaffolding, replaying the recording in my head. Another person had been ripped out of my life due to supernaturals, only this time; I didn't even know it at the time. My grandma might have been alive if it wasn't for that son of a bitch nurse who got sick joy out of killing. Even in her last moments, she was thinking about me, trying to protect me. Just like Allison. Just like Aiden.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by two warm hand grabbing my own from my lap. I looked up into the eyes of Deputy Parrish. He squatted down in front of me and just held my hands. He didn't say anything, didn't move and didn't even smile. He just held my hands. As if he was simply letting me know he was there for me.

The third time he held my hand, he was trying to coax me out of my fugue state. I was soaking wet, I had no clue where I was and I couldn't stop screaming. I could barely breath and yet the screams just kept coming like an endless flood. I was beginning to feel dizzy and I was shaking from how cold I felt. Just when I thought I was about to die from the pain, the terror and the lack of oxygen, I felt it.

Just one on his hands, barely grazed my own, but even in my state of confusion I knew. He seemed hesitant at first, as if he was afraid touching me would hurt me in my current condition. However, when he noticed my screams gradually got quieter after his touch, he grabbed my hand and ran his other up and down my arm, trying to warm me up. I felt a blanket being draped over my shoulders before I finally came into full awareness. I was standing in Derek's loft, soaking wet from the storm outside. I remembered why I was screaming and looked guiltily at the ground. How could I tell Derek that I had seen the one love of his life that wasn't evil die at the hands of his own uncle?

I looked up when Derek gently asked me what I had seen. I explained in a faux-calm voice everything. Braeden's death, Peter's involvement and Derek's inability to stop it. They were both remarkably calm about it. I think a little part of them believed they could stop it. Maybe they could. This is one of the first few times I was able to truly see someone's death before it happened in such vivid detailing. Maybe I could finally save someone instead of just finding the dead bodies at the end of the massacre.

I looked over at Parrish, wondering how he had gotten here. He explained that I had been screaming non-stop for well over an hour and Derek had called the one person he thought might be able to help. I started to finally get my bearings as I realized I was still standing in the doorway of the loft, wrapped in one of the blankets off Derek's bed, still holding Parrish's hand. Braeden was wearing one of Derek's shirts and Derek was only in his pants. Lydia could only imagine what she interrupted with her terrifying screams. Parrish offered to take me home when he saw me shiver.

I nodded, since I remember vaguely that I walked here, barefoot.

The fourth time he held my hand was only 20 minutes later, when I was getting out of his car. I don't know if it was handholding or merely a brief grab, but in my mind it was just as intimate as the last two times.

I thanked Deputy Parrish for coming to the loft and for the lift as I went to open the door. He grabbed my hand and looked me in the eye as he told me to call him Jordan. Maybe it wasn't the handholding that was so intimate but rather the fact that I was the first person in Beacon Hills who he had allowed to call him by his first name. To everyone else he was Parrish or Deputy, but to me he was now Jordan.

Our relationship began over our mutual discovery of dead bodies and was cultivated on danger, death and pain. It's odd how bonds can be created in such dire circumstances.

The fifth time he held my hand was as we stared at the fire Braeden had lit to burn the pieces of Peter's body. I don't know why I was shivering so hard when I was standing so close to the fire. It's odd that I never noticed the connection I had to Peter since I had resurrected him. I didn't realize until now that a little part of him was inside of me. Maybe that was why I was able to see Braeden's death before it happened.

Peter was a despicable man who had done terrible things to so many innocent people including his own family. He needed to go back to being dead, it was where he belonged. But an irrational part of me, the part that held the connection with him, was fighting to be let out and to rescue him. To fight off everyone, put his body back together and save him. My hand twitched as I fought the urge. I wasn't as strong, agile or talented in fighting as everyone else here, but I was easily the smartest and knew I could find a way to succeed.

I felt my hand spasm again in protest as Braeden began to round up the body parts to burn. I hugged it to myself, trying not to look as desperate as I was beginning to feel. Just when I thought I was about to put the plan a small part of my brain was working on into action, Jordan stepped forward and gently grabbed the hand I was hugging to myself. He laced our fingers together and smiled at me understandingly, as if he knew my inner turmoil.

I didn't start to feel normal again until the last piece of Peter's body was burned to ashes. Our connection was broken and not a single part of me wanted him alive. I sighed in relief that those feelings weren't permanent. Jordan squeezed my hand and led me to Stiles jeep, making sure I was safely inside before he got into his car and drove home.

The first time I held Jordan's hand was the day I decided I couldn't be his friend anymore. I felt too deeply for him to pretend I merely had a friendly interest in him. We had been having an argument over whether or not I should go to Meredith for help in trying to control my powers. He was against it from the beginning for obvious reasons. She was the only banshee I knew of and without her, I might as well be worthless.

Jordan was too much of a gentleman to yell at me, but I could tell he was losing his patience. His jaw kept twitching and I could see his adams apple bobbing up and down like crazy as he tried to swallow down his retorts to my own comments. It was out of the blue and I don't know why I chose that exact moment, but midway through his rant about my safety I grabbed one of his hands in both of my and hugged it to his chest.

He stopped mid-sentence and looked at me in confusion. I just smiled up at him and send in my normal flirtatious way that I can think of a million better things he could be doing with his mouth than arguing with me. His face lit up as red spread from the roots of his hair all the way down to his collar. It might have not been the most romantic thing to say, but it was a start.