Derek Hale is the director of the Beacon Hills Museum and the local expert in the fields of anthropology, palaentology and archaeology.
Stiles is the enthusiastic college student who visits the museum almost every other day, studying among the exhibits and looking for job openings.
Derek dismisses him at first, but then one day, Stiles accidentally leaves his study notes at the museum and Derek finds then when he’s doing a final sweep of the museum. Curious about what Stiles is studying and why he’s so intent on being at the museum, he takes a look inside and finds a mix of notes from entomology to archaeology. All the notes are really in depth, colour coded and at a level of study that should be beyond a college student. He hates to admit it, but he’s impressed.
[x]
Derek stared at his computer, watching the blinking curser that sat, unmoving, on the blank page. His mind was reeling with fragmented thoughts that he didn’t seem to be able to string together.
He slouched back in his chair, running his hand down his face.
He turned and looked out the clear windows of his office which overlooked the main lobby of the museum, a small fleet of stairs leading from his door and into a small alcove hidden behind the offices. Across the lobby, he could see the models of whales and schools of fish that were suspended from the ceiling and lit by the walls of windows. To the far side of the lobby, beyond the front desk, he could see the open doorway that led into the exhibits of dinosaurs, deep sea creatures, and entomology.
“Stuff it,” he muttered to himself, pushing back his chair and rising to his feet. He shrugged on his khaki bomber jacket and made his way out of the office. He pulled the door shut behind himself, pausing to look at the brass plate: Dr. Derek Hale. Director of Beacon Hills Museum.
He trudged down the stairs, smiling to patrons and briefly saying ‘Hello’ as he passed and made his way down to the museum café.
The barista already knew his order off by heart and began to make it before Derek had the chance to order. He fitted a lid onto the paper cup and passed it over the counter to Derek.
Derek thanked him, paid and began to make his way through the museum. He stepped over to the front desk, reaching over and snatching one of the chocolate chip cookies that Lydia kept hidden behind her desk.
Lydia shot a dirty glare at him.
Derek smiled back at her and bit into the biscuit. “How’s everything going down here?”
“Good,” Lydia replied. “We did have a lost child earlier today—she had walked off on her mum because she wanted to look at the dinosaurs. That issue was resolved quickly and aside from that and a couple of issues with group bookings for the Egyptian exhibit, nothing eventful has happened.”
Derek nodded thoughtfully. He turned to walk away when Lydia said, “Oh, and the guy—Stiles—was here a little while ago, asking if there’s any job openings.”
“There’s no job openings,” Derek said. “But if something comes up, I’ll let you know and he can apply like anyone else.”
Lydia shrugged and turned back to her work.
Derek turned and walked away, making his way towards the open doorway that led into the dinosaur exhibit. This is where his love for palaeontology and archaeology had begun; years ago, when his mother had brought him to the museum and he had stood beneath the towering skeletons of mighty beasts. He had looked upon them with such wonder and admiration that he knew then that he would grow up to uncover their secrets. And he had; he had gotten degrees in anthropology, palaeontology and archaeology. He had travelled the world uncovering the fossilised remains of dinosaurs and ancient ruins. He had been the adventurer he had dreamed of being as a child.
But that dream broke when he was called in to identify the victims of war, tragedies and natural disasters, he had pulled bodies from rubble and looked at the corpses of children. He had built relief centres and given identities to many of the bodies, but it was those he couldn’t identify that haunted him the most.
He drew himself back to reality, noticing the young man who sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall and writing something in a thick notebook. His satchel sat by his side, full of notebooks and scattered pieces of paper while a small pile of text books sat by his other side. His thick brown hair was a tousled mess and his dark brown eyes were intently focused on whatever it was he was writing. HIs lips quivered slightly as he uttered the words to himself.
He had seen him there before, many times. He was a college student who attended the campus over the road and came here almost every afternoon. He’s find an exhibit and sit down. Derek had always though that it was to study; trying to find a place where he wouldn’t be disturbed, but when the museum got busy and noisy, he didn’t move.
Derek had learned to ignore him.
Derek turned and walked away, making his way through to the hallway that led to the small outside garden with a pool of crystal-clear water. The rocky walls surrounding it were covered in trickling rivulets of water.
It was peaceful, serine.
Derek sat down on one of the benches and hung his head in his hands. He breathed in deeply, smelling the sweet water and the rich petrichor. He felt his shoulders drop and his tensions wash away as he listened to the soft sounds of running water.
After a while, he straightened his back and sipped at his coffee.
The fragmented thoughts returned, except this time he was able to string them together.
He pulled the small notepad out of his jacket pocket and made a quick note of his thoughts before pocketing the booklet and rising to his feet. He tossed the paper cup into the nearby recycling bin and made his way back through the museum.
Lydia would have made the announcement that the museum was closing by now, so Derek began his final sweeps, slightly disturbed by how quiet and lifeless the rooms were without patrons.
He made his way back past the dinosaurs, pausing when he caught sight of a small notebook that lay on the floor. He crouched down and picked it up.
The tattered cover had frayed around the edges and the gold text that read ‘NOTES’ had been worn away. Down the bottom was a scrawl of pen, a name: Stiles Stilinski.
Curiosity winning him over, he flipped open the cover and looked through the pages of notes; notes on entomology, archology, planetology, engineering, and everything in between. He didn’t seem to have a focus of study or a singular interest, but it wasn’t just simply writing things down to learn. Derek flipped through the pages that had been thumbed smooth, looking at the in-depth notes, annotated essays and critical papers, colour-coded notes and pages of highlighting.
The notes were at a level of study that was beyond a college student, and Derek hated to admit it, but he was impressed.
The notes from today were on the process of fossilisation and carbon dating. Slotted in between the pages was a printed journal article, one that Derek knew well; one that Derek had written.
Derek flipped through the few blank pages at the end of the book before spying the final page, a messy list of dissertation titles, plans and a printed biography of Derek from the Museum website.
Derek let out a weak chuckle, closing the notebook and making his way back up to his office. He dropped the tattered notebook on his desk and collected his laptop, a few books and papers and slid them into his satchel. He stepped toward the door and hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at Stiles’ notebook.
He stepped back over to his desk and picked it up, carefully sliding it into his bag before stepping over to the stairs, switching off the light and closing the door behind himself.
Lydia was waiting for him by the door. He locked everything up and walked her out to her car.
“You look… chipper,” Lydia remarked, smiling up at him.
“Goodnight, Lydia,” Derek said, unable to hide his smile.
Lydia pouted, but let it drop. She got into her car and started the engine, reversing out of her parking spot and waving to Derek as she left.
Derek waved goodbye before getting into his own car.
The museum was quiet, as it usually is at that time. The sunlight streamed in through the windows, bathing the open rooms in light.
Derek sat at his computer, glancing down at the small notebook he carried around and the notes he had jotted down yesterday. His nimble fingers, darted across the keyboard, the thin black letters filling out the pages as his mind began to clear.
There was a loud bang.
Derek bolted upright, rushing to his office door as he saw someone run towards the front desk. He could hear panicked screaming but couldn’t make out the words.
He grabbed Stiles’ tattered notebook and made his way downstairs.
“Please,” he heard a panicked voice beg. “I’m sure I left it here. Are you sure you haven’t found anything?”
Derek stepped around the corner to see Stiles bracing himself against the front desk, his shoulders heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
“That depends on what you’re looking for,” Derek interjected, his voice calm and steady as he looked at the rugged young man.
“One of my notebooks. It had notes for my essay that I’m writing but I dropped it when I was here yesterday—I’m sure I dropped it here,” Stiles stammered.
Derek held up the tattered old notebook. “Is this what you’re looking for?”
Relief washed over Stiles. “Yes.”
Derek held it out for him and Stiles took it, thanking him profusely.
The young man turned and started to make his way back towards the large glass doors when Derek’s voice stilled him, “Stiles.”
He turned around and looked at Derek.
“That’s some great work you’ve done there,” Derek complimented. He paused for a moment. “There aren’t any job openings currently, but if you’re still looking for a supervisor for your dissertation, I’d be happy to take you on.”
Stiles’ face lit up with a bright smile, his dark brown eyes sparkling like gold as he frantically nodded. “That… That would be fantastic… Thank you. Thank you, sir.”
