A/N: Warning: ridiculously long chappy ahead. Please review to give me some inspo xx
Chapter Song: Heathens (MuteMath Edition) by Twenty One Pilots / Stars by The XX
The adrenaline high had settled. Now, sitting in the comfort of Derek's passenger seat, a sleepy haze draped over me. An old shirt of Derek's was pressed against my side, soaking up all the blood pumping out of my wound. I had joked to Derek that he didn't want me getting his car all bloody.
He hadn't found it amusing.
My eyes fought to stay open, my eyelids feeling like they weighed a hundred pounds each. Relieving themselves of the heaviness, they slowly shut. My bloody shirt holding hand fell limp into my lap.
I was running, pushing furniture out of my way and rounding corners. My heart was beating erratically inside my chest. Nausea bubbled in the pits of my stomach as pain shot through my entire side. My ears rang with the echoes of gun shots. I whipped around, hearing my dad scream out from the adjacent room.
"Daddy? Daddy please help!" I cried. He didn't reply. Another gun shot echoed. "Dad, please." I whimpered.
"Please." The words left my mouth in barely an audible whisper. Derek did a double take as he looked over to me, concerned to see my eyes closed.
"Hayley." He spoke up, dismissing me from the dream world I had been trapped in. "Hayley, wake up. Stay awake." He ordered. My eyes fluttered open to find myself back in Beacon Hills.
"I'm awake." I quietly stated. As Derek peeled down the roads at a hundred miles per hour, we zoomed past a blue hospital sign with an arrow pointing to the direction we were going in.
"No." I immediately stated, my head barely shaking. "I told you no hospital." My fingers squeezed the shirt in my grasp and pressed it against my side once more.
"You have no decision in this, you're not thinking right." I looked over to Derek, who met my gaze.
"I told you. Only to Deaton's. No where else." Derek's eyes loomed over me once more, assessing how ghostly pale my skin was. He hardly trusted my logic at the moment and he hated not bringing me to a professional, but he reluctantly obeyed to my orders anyways.
The Camaro came to a screeching halt as we entered the animal clinic parking lot. My body limply moved forward and back with the seat. My eyes managed to fall closed once again. I could hear Derek exit the car hastily, leaving me in silence. My hands fell into my lap once more, the caked blood plastered on them wafting up into my nose. The smell made my head whirl.
"So much blood, Hayley." A familiar voice whispered into my ear. My eyes jolted open, recognizing the sick voice of that belonging to James Cadwell. My heart skipped two beats, the voice echoing in my mind. Beside me, the car door swung open and Derek reached down and pulled me from my seat.
"Can you stand?" He asked. I muttered a quiet 'mhm' as I planted my feet on the ground. The sound of James' voice whispering incoherent words buzzed inside my head. I planted one of my hands on the car for support, but my knees soon buckled. Immediately, I found Derek gripping my body tightly to support me. He quickly scooped me up into his arms and rushed us into the building.
"Deaton!" Derek yelled.
There was yelling. So much yelling. I was calling out for mom and dad. They didn't answer me.
"Derek, what was so urgent that you needed me to come in at five in the morn—" Deaton cut himself off when he entered the room.
"She was shot. I need you to help her."
Reality and the past melted into one. I couldn't tell what was real and what was a hallucination. My mind went back and forth between the present and back to that night.
There was shuffling. Moving. Rushing. Derek laid me down on one of the metal examination tables in the back room. I could barely feel the cold material against my skin. My eyes glared up to the bright shining fluorescent on the ceiling.
The fluorescent inside the ambulance blinded my eyes. Unable to stand anymore, the EMT's lifted my quivering body onto a gurney as they began looking and assessing my bullet wounds, speaking in medical tongue that only proceeded to confuse me more.
"I'm not a doctor, Derek. You should have brought her to the hospital."
"She wouldn't let me!" He barked. "She told me to only bring her here. You've helped Scott before, can't you help her?" He asked, obvious frustration in his voice. Deaton walked over to me, taking a scissor to the bullet hole in my dress. He cut away the fabric at the torso.
"What happened?"
"The Kanima master." Deaton stopped and looked up to Derek, not bothering to hide his shock.
"They found out who it was?"
"Some kid in their school. And if Gerard took care of him like he said he would, the kids not a problem anymore."
"Gerard was there?" Derek gritted his teeth at Deaton's question, thinking about Scott's betrayal.
"Yes." Deaton didn't answer. He deeply sighed, knowing that if Gerard had anything to do with the Kanima now, it would be even worse than the damage Matt inflicted. I could feel Deaton wipe away blood from the bullet wound. Derek's vision moved down, glaring at the two-inch scar right beside the fresh hole, his thick brows narrowing.
"The bullet only managed to go through scar tissue. Nothing serious is damaged." Deaton informed. Like a camera lens focusing and unfocusing, my vision went in and out.
The EMT's hovered. I couldn't feel their latex touch against my skin. All my senses were drifting away. "There's some serious damage here." One of the EMT's mumbled to his partner. I didn't want these strangers taking care of me. I wanted my parents.
Deaton leaned down, a medical inhalation mask held in his hands when he stood back up. He hooked the mask up to a line and reached forward to place the mask over my face.
The EMT's began poking and prodding my body, one taking an inhalation mask and reaching forward to strap it around my face.
My lips parted and a mix of words that were too inaudible for the two men in the room to understand quietly fell out of my mouth.
Deaton paused, holding the clear mask inches from my face.
"What?" He questioned, his head cocking.
"Help my parents." I whispered. Deaton inhaled sharply while Derek furrowed his brows once again, even more confused than before. Deaton placed the mask over my mouth and nose, letting me breath in the metal tasting inhalant. Within seconds, my head felt more spacey than before. My vision doubled and soon after began to tunnel. My eyes rolled back into my head and my lids closed.
It had been five days since the hostage situation at the police station. Five days since I'd been shot. Five days since mom found out about the supernatural world. And five days since Matt inexplicably died by drowning in a river less than a mile from the police station.
There was an empty void in my heart as the last five days were uncomfortably different. Mom hadn't talked to neither Scott or myself since that night. She picked up extra shifts at work and whenever she was home, she locked herself away in her room. The thought of her not speaking to either of us made me feel broken.
Thankfully, Scott had promised to not tell mom I'd been shot. Over all the chaos of that night, she never noticed. Letting her know would just add to her pain. And at this point, I don't even know if being shot would make her talk to me.
Scott and I weren't on the best of terms either. It had also been five days since I found out Scott was working behind my back with our arch enemy. I wasn't processing that very well, but I kept my mouth shut and kept pretending I didn't know anything. I wanted to believe there was some type of logical reason Scott would do this, but I knew it was only because of Allison. Speaking of the huntress, we had stopped speaking all together. Apparently her mother had died. Suicide. And while I believed that her mother did snuff out her own life, I held the guilt knowing what the underlying reason to why she did so was. Allison's priority to kill Derek instead of help me after I was shot made me realize where she stood. There wasn't much salvaging our friendship from that.
I hadn't talked to Stiles much either. Our conversations had been turned into quick hellos and sad excuses of waves in the hallway. I could tell he was overcoming the trauma of seeing his dad being beat up by his lacrosse teammate. It shattered him knowing that he was helpless and all he could do was watch. I was thankful at least his father was unconscious at the time the werewolves were in the room. At least he didn't have to know about the messed up world we lived in.
"How are you feeling?" Deaton asked as I wiped down the same examination table Derek had laid me on that night. After all the events that happened, I decided to pick up more shifts at the animal hospital. I figured it would get my mind off all this mess.
"I'm alright." I shrugged. The bullet Matt had shot me with had only gone through scar tissue and, thankfully, hadn't touched any vital organs. Deaton stitched me up that night and, besides pain here and there, I was back to normal.
"Are you taking the pain medication I gave you?" He wondered. I moved onto cleaning the counter.
"Yeah." The pain medication was the only thing letting me sleep at night. The pain wasn't even the bad part, especially since Deaton gave me more of his magic herbs than I even needed. It was my mind that was the real problem.
"Have you heard from anyone in particular lately?" Deaton hinted. I paused wiping down the counter. On top of everything, it had also been five days since I last seen or heard from Derek. I had woken up hours after the events to find Derek gone. Deaton greeted me and when I asked where Derek had gone, he saw the disappointment in my face when he informed me he had left just minutes before.
"No." I answered, continuing up my cleaning.
"You know she'll get over it, right?" Deaton piped up to break the silence that blanketed over us again. I craned my head over my shoulder to look at him. "Your mom. She'll accept it."
"I don't know. She's never gone this long without talking to us. If she even gets a glimpse of Scott or me, she's terrified. And I'm not even the werewolf."
"It's a lot to take in. Try to remember how you felt."
"I have. And yeah, I was shocked and confused and scared. But I couldn't ignore my brother. It wasn't an option."
"Give her time, Hayley. She'll accept it. Now go home. Get some rest." I looked over to the clock posted up on the wall to see it was only half past seven.
"I've still got two more hours."
"I can handle it. Same time tomorrow?" I shifted my weight uncomfortably and sharply inhaled.
"Uh, no. I think Scott's going to cover my shift."
I tried to convince myself to go home, but since home wasn't so much home anymore, it wasn't easy. But even home would have been the better option to what I was doing currently.
I knew Derek clearly didn't want to see me. If he did, he would have been in contact. I called and left him messages five days ago, but to no avail he still failed to answer. All I wanted to know was that he was okay. Apparently it was too much to ask.
I didn't mind the long walk to the train depot. It kept me busy and more importantly, it kept me away from home. The station was quiet and Derek's car was no where in sight. I figured he started parking it somewhere else, or maybe even behind the building, just so he wouldn't attract attention. The door creaked on its rusty hinges as I pushed it open and walked down the stairs.
"Derek?" I called, my voice bouncing off the walls. An uncomfortable silence answered me. I continued forward, narrowing my eyes to see through the train carts. "Isaac? Boyd? …Anybody?" I walked myself into the cart where Derek stayed in. It was empty. None of his belongings were here. I took myself into the other train carts to find just the same. There was no trace of anyone. The train depot was what it had been for the last ten years—abandoned. Derek had taken his pack and left.
It seemed ridiculous after all I've been through—the losses I suffered and the things I had witnesses and learned of—that such a simple act of getting out of bed could be so overwhelming. It was probably because of all the things I suffered and witnessed caused me to feel like this.
Especially today.
I was lucky enough for the past three years for the dreaded day to fall on a weekend. I'd stay holed away in my room for the day, barely even going downstairs for food whenever my stomach growled. But today, I wasn't so lucky. School was starting in a little over an hour and I wasn't even out of bed yet. I had debated most of the night whether I should just stay home and call in sick for the day, but my decision ended up otherwise.
I rolled out of bed and walked over to my dresser, looking at my reflection in the mirror. I looked void—void of sadness and happiness. Today was the day where I became numb to all emotions. It was easier than dealing with the reality of the pain. All the memories were fresher.
Still in my pajamas, I padded downstairs in hopes of the coffee already made. To my pleasure, I found a fresh pot awaiting my arrival. Freshly made eggs and crispy bacon sat on a ceramic plate beside the pot while a cinnamon Pop-Tart jumped out of the toaster.
"Hey." Scott greeted, grabbing a carton of milk from out of the fridge.
"Hey." I nonchalantly greeted back. Scott knew better than to make a fuss over today—he never apologized or babied me about it. In fact, we never spoke about it. It was a sore subject that—ten years later—I still didn't feel like speaking about. Scott knew that if I wanted to talk, I'd do it. But especially lately with him, I was far from the talking mood. All my brother did for me on this dreary day of April 6th was make me breakfast. Even though Scott was no Emeril Lagasse, I still appreciated the gesture. Even with him not being my favorite person at the moment. Every year he'd make me the same thing—my favorite flavored Pop-Tarts along with some eggs over easy and bacon cooked just the way I liked it. It was all I wanted and all I could ask for, besides no sympathy of course.
"You've got any tests today?" Scott asked, taking a sip from his glass of milk.
"Nope." I replied, pouring coffee into a mug. Our conversations had been short the past five days. The visions plaguing my mind of Scott conspiring with Gerard made me not in the mood for extensive conversation.
"Cool." He nodded. "I've got one in Westover's class. Haven't even studied." He awkwardly laughed. I didn't reply as I stirred cream into my coffee with a spoon.
"So…you need a ride to school? I can try asking mom for the car." I mentally scoffed.
"You might be able to ask her but we both know she's not replying." I pursed my lips. "I'll pass."
"Well, I can call Stiles." I rose my brows, picking up my coffee mug and staring at my brother. He answered my silence with a look of utter confusion.
"Also pass." I said, padding out of the kitchen.
"Then how are you going to get to school?" My brother asked as I walked away.
"We were born with legs for a reason!" I flatly called back.
The guidance office was bright, with sun shining in through the window's slats. It blindingly reflected off the many diplomas Morrell had displayed on the wall. They were my favorite to look at, it meant avoiding eye contact with Morrell as much as possible.
"You're not coming in as much as I'd like. We agreed on at least one a month, Hayley."
"It's because I'm fine. You should be seeing people who really need your help." I drummed my finger tips against my jean clad thigh.
"You may be fine, but there are a few things I'd like to talk about. Ten years is a big anniversary. How are you feeling?"
"Just like I did anniversary's one through nine."
"Just as bad as the first year?" She cocked her head. My eyes dropped down to look at my shoes.
"No." I admitted. "It gets easier as the years go on. It's not so much salt in the wound anymore—instead just a…distant painful reminder. The farther I am from it, the more it seems like another life time. There's nothing I can do to change what happened, I can't mourn forever."
"Nobody would blame you for mourning on a day like today." I scoffed under my breath at Morrell's words.
"With all that's going on, I don't even have time for that anymore."
"And what is going on?"
"Uh, just school." I avoided the counselors glare.
"Would any of this have to do with Matt?" I wasn't even surprised Morrell knew what happened at the station.
"He held a gun up to me. Whatever. Nothing that hasn't happened before." I shrugged.
"Well, that can cause some traumatic memories. Did you have flashbacks to that night?"
Yes. "No." I sighed. "Matt was crazy. And just because he almost died ten years ago he felt the need to take it out on everyone else. You don't see me running around going on a killing spree, do you? We're all alive and that's what matters."
"He held a gun up to you. And he didn't hurt you?" The freshly stitched up and healing bullet wound in my abdomen mocked me.
"I'm here, aren't I?" I looked up to the clock. "I've got to get to class." Morrell nodded in understanding.
With my backpack slung across one shoulder, I slowly strode out of the office and into the hallways with the intentions to eventually get to one of my classes. Eventually was the key word.
The hallways were quiet. Most students were congregated in classes while few roamed the halls during their free period.
To my luck, the school day had been uneventful. There was no chaos, no supernatural, nor any encounters with my brother or Stiles. Of all days for Beacon Hills to finally have a normal, uneventful day, it couldn't have come on a more perfect date.
As I passed the hallway containing the locker room, I silently prayed I'd be lucky enough not run into Scott or Stiles. I wasn't in the mind frame to deal with either of them today.
"Hey." A voice softly said. I turned around to see Isaac walking out of the locker room hallway, lacrosse stick in hand.
"Hey."
"Uh," Isaac ran a hand through his hair and took a step towards me, "how are you feeling?" Isaac noticed the confused look on my face. "I heard about what happened with Matt."
"Oh." It took me a second to realize Isaac knew that I'd been shot. "I'm, uh, I'm okay. Nothing a few stitches can't fix." I joked. A faint smile lifted his lips for a moment.
"Good." There was a short pause. "I actually needed to talk to you. You know, if you're not running too late to class." My brows furrowed. Isaac? Talk to me? Was this about Derek?
"Okay…"
"Erica and Boyd are leaving town tomorrow night during the game."
"For good?"
"Yeah. And I, I was thinking about going with them." He admitted.
"What? Why?" Isaac shrugged.
"Change of scenery. There isn't much here for me." I shook my head.
"We both know that's not true."
"Even if there was, Beacon Hills isn't safe anymore."
"I can't blame you on that. But, Isaac, you can't leave everyone behind."
"It's easy to leave when you don't have a family to tie you down." I could feel my chest tighten in the familiarity and sadness of his words. In a way, Isaac reminded me much of myself. "I think it would just be better that way."
"Just because you don't have family in the traditional way doesn't mean you don't have family at all." I replied. Isaac quietly sighed and stuffed his free hand into his jean pocket.
"Look, I didn't come here for a list of reasons to stay. I wanted to apologize."
"Apologize?" I repeated, the word sounding foreign coming from Isaac's mouth.
"For ever hurting you, for disappointing you. For having my ego up too many notches." He finished with a quiet chuckle, brining back our discussion we never finished at the rave.
"It's not anymore." I quietly replied.
"It's not who I was. Derek turning me sent me on a power trip. And I just, I just figured I'd apologize." With a tightness growing in the back of my throat, I couldn't try to get any words out. Instead, I nodded. "And, if you could not say anything to Scott about this."
"You don't have to worry about that."
"Cool…cool. So, I guess I'll see you around." I nodded again.
"I'll see you around." The smile I gave Isaac faded as he disappeared down the hallway. My eyes dropped to the floor as I let out a sigh I'd been holding in.
Everything was falling apart.
I sat with my back against a rock. My eyes glared out in front of me, mesmerized by the view. From Lookout Point, Beacon Hills looked beautiful at night. The city was a sea of lights. Looking at it made me question how such horrible things could happen in such a beautiful town…how such horrible things could happen anywhere.
A shiver rolled down my spine as a chilly breeze blew past. I picked up the glass bottle resting at my hip and took a long swig of the pungent clear liquid inside. My teeth gritted together tightly as the burning liquid slithered its way down my throat. I draped my vodka holding arm over the one knee I bent close to my chest.
The more I drank, the less the cold would bother me. Having my emotions suppressed was only an added plus.
Going to Lookout Point had become sort of an April 6th tradition the past few years. There was something about looking over the city lights that blanketed a sense of calmness over me. It could have been the vodka talking, though.
The area was quiet and secluded since no one ever came up here anymore. It was the perfect spot for me to get away and think to myself. The low hum of crickets that played like a repetitive melody in my head was soon mixed with the sound of leaves crunching.
Footsteps. They were light, quiet. I already had an idea of who they belonged to. Scott usually knew better than to disturb me today. It was the one day a year he was supposed to listen to me and leave me alone. But, since his buddy Gerard and the Kanima were still at large, I'm sure he had a whole speech ready on how I shouldn't be out here alone. The footsteps stopped. I could feel eyes burning into the back of my head.
"You're not supposed to drink on pain medicine." I didn't need to turn around to know who the voice belonged to.
"That's why I didn't take any today." I replied, grabbing the vodka bottle by the neck and taking another swallow of the liquid.
"Are you drunk?" Derek asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"I wish." I quietly replied.
A silence fell over the two of us as Derek came over and sat beside me. He stared out ahead at the city.
"It makes you feel small, doesn't it?" I voiced. "I never realize how big Beacon Hills is until I come here."
"It's definitely a sight." Derek replied. I turned my head over to him and, still holding the vodka bottle in my grasps, offered it to Derek. Reluctantly, he took it. He pressed the glass rim to his lips and took two sips, swallowing hard a he handed the bottle back to me. I took another sip, allowing the overpowering liquid to silence my nerves.
"It's hard to believe that such a beautiful place can have such bad things happening in it." I paused and sadly chuckled. "And we're the ones caught up in it."
"It's not always bad." Derek quietly assured. I internally scoffed at myself, since when was Derek Hale the positive one around here? I focused myself back on the twinkling city lights. The calming feeling the scenery had once given me was replaced with hollowness. I wondered if Derek felt this way too.
"James Cadwell." The words fell out of my mouth before I could control myself. I mentally cursed out the alcohol in my hand. Derek turned his head and looked at me in a wave of confusion. I continued to stare ahead, not having the guts to look at him.
"The news named him the Boston Butcher." Derek had been young at the time of Caldwell's reign, so I didn't expect a glimmer of recognition to sparkle in his eye. Cadwell hadn't been a Manson or a Bundy, but any modern day serial killer name had been talked about often. "You wanted to know more," I reminded him of that night we were supposed to talk. Isaac and Erica had interrupted though. "He killed my parents ten years ago today." It took Derek a minute for my words to sink in.
"We never finished our conversation." He remembered.
"We never finished a lot of conversations." I looked over to him, my eyes trailing down to his lips. I forced myself to look away. "But this…this we also didn't finish."
"I'm sorry for my Beta's interrupting." He apologized.
"Yeah, well, they've been a pain my ass. Thank you." I could feel the hole I was digging myself deeper and deeper in. I took another swig of vodka.
"They can be a pain in the ass." Derek lightly agreed, hiding a smile in his voice. Another silence fell over us.
"He was an officer with my dad. They were partners, actually. They were working on the case and my dad…he started to suspect it was someone on the force." Memories flashed in my head. "He fooled him the entire time. He fooled everybody. But, he got paranoid. And then he walked into the house and he shot them." I could feel the familiar sensation of stinging behind my eyes alerting me tears were awaiting. I quickly blinked them away. "He killed himself before he found me upstairs. He was too much of a coward to wait five more minutes to get someone else to put a bullet through his head. I guess anyone who kills 11 people would be."
"11?"
"13 if you want to count my parents." I closed my eyes, having visions of blood all over the home. "I was supposed to be 14."
"He shot you." Derek realized.
"Same area Matt did." I laughed at the irony. "Ten years later and here I am still dealing with murderers. I guess some things never change." I took another sip out the bottle.
"It's not going to be like this forever." He thought.
"I know. And I know I can't hold onto this forever."
"Mourning doesn't mean that you're holding onto it forever. Trust me." I looked over to Derek again. It was seeing him in a whole different light. It was often easy to forget due to his rough exterior, but Derek was just as vulnerable as I was on the inside. For once, I didn't see him as the strong, powerful werewolf he was; but instead as a broken human.
"I do." I spoke up. "I trust you Derek…I may not want to admit it, but I do." I could feel Derek's body stiffen beside me, making me instantly regret opening my mouth. My eyes stayed trained on the city as I expected Derek to get up and leave. Instead, his warm fingers ghosted underneath my chin, leaving a trail of goosebumps to spread across my body. Derek turned my head softly to look at him. My lips parted, tempted to ask Derek what he was doing.
"Then trust me that everything's going to be okay." His promise rang in my ears, his voice low and husky. Derek's face was mere inches from my own. I could feel his breath hot on my skin. Goosebumps rose on the back of my neck as every inch of my body yelled at me to lean in closer.
Before I could take another breath, Derek's head leaned in and our lips crashed together. There was no hesitation as my lips moved completely in sync with his own. Time had come to a sudden halt as I got lost in the heated kiss. In desperate need for air, the two of us reluctantly pulled away, only wishing it had lasted longer. My head spun—not from the alcohol, but instead from the hundreds of thoughts racing around my head as I realized Derek had kissed me yet again. He looked at inquisitively, unsure of his next move. My lips curled into a small, shy, smile as I looked at him. We fell into a comfortable silence as I daringly rested my head on Derek's shoulder, staring ahead at the city once more.
"Do me a favor?" I quietly spoke up.
"What?" He asked.
"Please don't disappear this time."
A/N: Okay long ass chapter over and I fought with myself back and forth how the ending of this chapter should have been. I originally wasn't going to make them kiss again but the other timing when I was going to have it done, after the events of s2 finale, seemed too far. So there you go! Another kiss! And Derek knows what happened! And by gosh, I'm so sorry for the long wait. It's been hectic over here in the life of me! Idk why but I've had the worst writers block but pinky promise I wont give up on this story. Review please xx
