Chapter 9: The President II

Scott fidgeted in his seat next to Joe, but said nothing. Joe stared at the road, gripping the steering while tightly with both hands. She also said nothing. What more was there to say? Aunt Melissa had asked Joe to drive Scott home, because she had to go back to the hospital, after the utter fiasco of a parent-teacher conference.

"You know what he said to me? Lacking a male authority figure! The absolute nerve." Aunt Melissa's angry recap of the conference rang in Joe's mind. "And then Allison's dad have the audacity of blaming Scott for his daughter's absence and tries to make me the culprit!"

They had shoved Scott into Joe's car and stood outside while Aunt Mel let loose some steam before returning to work. Turns out, the reason no-one could get a hold of Scott was because he and Allison had skipped school the whole day and turned off their phones.

"I just don't know what's going on with him lately! I'm not a bad mom? Am I? You'd tell me if I was a bad mom, right?"

"Hey, better than my mom," Joe had tried to joke, to alleviate the mood and her guilt, but it had fallen on deaf ears. No wonders she was agitated. First Scott's MIA, then she gets degraded by both Scott's teacher and Allison's father and to top it off, the whole parking lot dissolved into chaos when an actual real-life mountain lion attacked.

Not attacked, more like prowled, but there was a lot of screaming and running around. Joe was on the far side of the action, but had both seen and heard when Chris Argent put the animal down with two shots. For some reason, he had stalked up to Joe while putting his gun away, and said something like: "That's what you do with rabid animals."

He had not seemed satisfied at her shrug and: "Okay?"

Apparently, the Sheriff was hurt as well, but no one knew how bad yet. Not life threatening at least, or it would have been all over the news. Joe glanced in the rearview-mirror — a habit she picked up after being stalked around by Jimmy Carter — but the night was deadly quiet.

"I don't want to talk about it," Scott muttered, as if he'd heard how Joe tried to steel herself to ask how he was doing.

"Okay then," Joe said instead and continued driving back. At least the dead mountain lion meant that the animal attacks would stop. It had to be rabid or sick, usually they didn't stray too close to human settlements. Wonder how Jimmy Carter would spin it? She gripped the steering wheel tighter. She almost had him!

Scott shifted in his seat. "Am I grounded?"

"Uh, no, not exactly." His mom had detailed his punishment before they drove home. "But you're looking at some extra chores for a few weeks."

He groaned and sank down further. "Great."

"And if you miss any more classes, you are grounded. I wouldn't push it," Joe said and smiled in his direction, but with his head tilted towards the window, he probably missed it. Every fiber of her body urged her to ask about the underlying issue, the drug use, but she knew it would mess things up between him and Stiles. She just couldn't betray Stiles like that.

"Are you okay, Scott?" she asked instead, hoping maybe to coax out an admission.

Scott pulled his hood up and turned even further around in his seat. "What do you care?"

"Oh boy, teenagers," Joe mumbled and sighed of relief when they finally arrived at the house. Scott went upstairs without another word, obviously with a lot on his mind, and Joe trudged to the kitchen in hopes of leftovers. No leftovers, so she settled for the rest of the cereal and made a note on the grocery list Scott would have to pick up tomorrow. A part of Aunt Mel's punishment.

Her phone buzzed on the counter with an incoming text. She rolled her eyes at the positively tiny screen, a hard adjustment when you were used to a smartphone. Unknown sender.

'Talk? Wed 20:00 BHHS park lot 1-1 JC'

Her dad had made her learn military time, and she deciphered the shorthand to mean Jimmy Carter wanted to meet her on Wednesday at 8PM in the Beacon Hills High School parking lot alone. Or Jesus Christ wanted to marry her 20 times or something when Beacon Hills scored 1-1 in their next game. No, it had to be Carter. Especially since she had slipped him her number earlier. So, meeting her stalker by herself in a non-public space after dark? Classic setup. Possible ambush.

Well, she was obviously gonna go anyway. Two days would give her time to prepare.

"Hmm."

Professor Kane flipped to the next page of Joe's draft. She insisted on printing everything out, on the notion that reading on a screen was bad for her brain. Joe sat opposite Professor Kane's desk, a sense of dread building in her stomach. Usually, the Professor made happy sounds when reading, not contemplative ones.

"Hmm."

Joe shrank further. The Professor hadn't touched her tea either, completely engrossed in Joe's writing. It was just an early draft, and the Professor said herself that you needed at least three iterations to get anywhere worthwhile.

"Well..." Professor Kane finally said and put the pages down. She pushed the glasses on top of her head and gave Joe a tight smile. "It's reading a little Nancy Drew."

"Oh no..."

"It's not bad, it's not bad!" Professor Kane raised both hands to stop Joe's despair. "It's just...hmm. Vague? Yes, vague is the word. The literature review? Excellent, right on point, great connections to the case itself." Joe steeled herself for the final blow. Academics were trained in giving positive feedback first, then negative. "However...this blogger you reference? I can see the coherence, I really can, but then you sort of allude to this previous incident that set this blogger on a path to the paranormal, and how this same incident sparked a lot of discussion. What incident is this? Why are you being so mysterious about this? Is it not public knowledge?"

"Uhm, it's a small town," Joe tried to explain, aware she was rubbing her hands together and unable to stop herself. She placed them under her thighs instead. "And it's not been that long. I didn't want to disclose any unnecessary details."

"If it's a small town, everyone knows everything anyway," Professor Kane countered and the bangles on her arm clattered as she gestured. "No need to be coy about it!"

"Uh... eight people died."

The Professor slumped back in her chair, took her glasses off absentmindedly and started to clean them on the edge of her tunic. "Oh. Yes, I can see that is a bit problematic." She waved the thought away and pushed the glasses back onto her skinny face. "Okay, forget the incident for now. Maybe we need to confuddle the entire paper, allude to a small town in America, gods know we have more than enough of those." She pointed a bejewled finger at Joe that ended in a long painted nail. "You should focus on getting an in-depth interview with this blogger. Trust me when I say that these so called anonymous internet personas usually jump at any chance to spew their theories. Send him - or her, let's check our privilege at the door here - an e-mail to get a conversation going."

"I'm - uh - working on it," Joe admitted and accepted the printed copy of her draft back. They were marked heavily in red. "And try to rewrite for clarity."

"Yes, this is not a mystery novel, Delgado. This is academia. Science. Conjectures, data, logic, conclusions. You can do better!"

"I will," Joe promised and trudged out of the incense-smelling office with a bowed head. She took a deep breath and leaned against the outside wall, clutching the draft to her chest. Too much time chasing mysteries, not enough time doing research. Those two were not the same. Professor Kane had been her main sponsor for the PhD, pushing on that Joe could get a full-time position as faculty when she completed it. And she had to complete it. No use in being a student forever.

The drive back to Beacon was uneventful for once. No chance encounters with Derek Hale, no deer herds in a panic, no strange animalistic noises. Just her, the road and a soft feminist rock-CD. The only thing she could not wrap her head around was the police files, delivered at her door step. That was before she had made contact with Jimmy Carter. The strange e-mail she had attributed to him, as a way to get her location and stalk her for whatever twisted reason. What were the odds of having two stalkers sending her inside information about the so called animal attacks? So called because they could be murders, not because she was suddenly believing in werewolves.

Follow the money, her dad used to say. It just meant that solving a crime usually ended up in finding who had something to gain. Money was just an euphenism. Could be power, freedom, pleasure...so who had anything to gain from her snooping around? It was one thing that she was unable to piece together the puzzle, but she was starting to worry she did not have all the pieces yet either.

No one was home yet at the McCalls'. She checked Aunt Mel's schedule on the fridge and she had the graveyard shift. Scott was hopefully at the grocery store, she deduced, as the lack of anything edible stared back at her from the fridge. Settling for eating stale crackers Aunt Mel bought that one time she was trying to get into fancy cheese, she chewed absentmindedly and went upstairs to get her kit ready for the next day.

Dark clothing, check. Most of her clothes were gray or black anyway, no difference there. Taser, check. Audio recorder, check. Heavy maglite flashlight, usable as a blunt weapon in emergencies, check. Batteries for said flashlight, negative.

Sighing, she trudged downstairs again, checked the designated everything-drawer, and found nothing except the empty carton. "God damn it, Scott." He was the only one who wouldn't add that to the shopping list when taking the last ones. His clock radio used the same kind of batteries as the flashlight, and he could just use the goddamn cord instead of wasting batteries, all because he was too lazy to get out of bed to turn the radio off.

She grumbled about this on her way up to his room. At his door, she hesitated. He would be home any minute, and it would be most polite to wait for him and then ask him for the batteries instead of barging inside. On the other hand, if she went inside his room to get the batteries she could snoop around for other evidence of a certain little illegal habit of his and use the potential findings as an excuse to get him to talk to her. Sound plan.

In the darkness, she tripped over some wayward shoes and swore on her way to the standing lamp by his desk. Jesus Christ, it was a mess in here. Typical teenage boy, with clothes and books and-

"OH MY GOD!" Joe yelled and chucked the empty flashlight at the figure in Scott's armchair. Derek's hand shot out and grabbed the blunt instrument at lightening speed without pulling a single muscle in his face. "What are you doing here?!"

"Waiting for Scott," Derek said simply, flipped the flashlight in his hand and offered the handle to her. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here!" Joe exclaimed and snatched the flashlight back. Her heart thumped so hard she had trouble thinking. "Jesus Christ, can you, like, lurk a little less maybe?"

Derek's immaculate eyebrow rose. "You live in Scott's room?"

"No! But I live in this house, which gives me hella more rights to be in his room than you." Joe rubbed her chest with one hand, trying to massage her heart back into place instead of threatening to jump up her throat. "Sheesh."

"I didn't mean to scare you." His eyes glittered in the semi-darkness. As always, he wore that slightly dusty leather jacket with a tight t-shirt underneath. When he shifted, the scent wafted at her, and she closed her eyes to ignore it.

Anger. Anger was better than fear and even fear was better than...whatever else her body was trying to make her feel. Joe kept her eyes closed, to be spared the sight of him a bit longer. "Then why were you sitting in the dark like some kind of psychopath?"

"I didn't mean to scare you."

"God, you're so weird," Joe muttered and slumped ontop of Scott's bed. She fell backwards, grabbed the clock radio from his nightstand and bounced back up. No snooping around with Derek as witness. "Look, I know that you're helping Scott." She wrestled the lid off the radio and thumped it against her hand to get the batteries out. "And I know what you're helping him with."

Derek sat as an umoving mass of darkness. She thought she heard leather creak, as if he was tightening his fingers around the armrests. "You...do?"

"Yes, and I...I really appreciate that you're whipping him into shape." Joe pushed the batteries into the flashlight. "And, y'know, as much as I hate being left out of it, I appreciate your loyalty to Scott. I get that it's personal for you since you struggled with it in high school and all."

Derek hissed and put his arm up when she tested the flashlight in his direction. He held it aloft, squinting at her from behind it. "Who exactly have you been talking to?"

"It doesn't matter." Joe turned the flashlight off, a bit disconcerted with how his eyes glinted in the beam. "What I'm trying to say is that even though I get how important it is to get Scott off steroids, you cannot keep breaking into our house. Ring the doorbell, like normal people."

They sat in silence for some time, so long that Joe wondered if suggesting Derek wasn't normal deeply offended him. Instead he leaned forwards on his knees and subjected Joe to an intense stare from light green eyes. "Steroids. Scott is on...steroids."

"What, still? I thought he was already off it and you were helping him stay off, that's what S-" Joe stopped herself from betraying her source, but it was in vain when Derek rolled his eyes.

"You can say Stiles," he muttered and then said something under his breath Joe didn't catch. "Stiles told you that I was helping Scott stay off steroids."

"Only because I pressured him!" Joe made a point to defend Scott's best friend. "And I promised I wouldn't ask Scott about it, and I won't, I just wanted to thank you for helping him and...apologize, I guess. I've just been super skeptical about you because I didn't know what your deal was. But I get it now."

They looked at each other a bit more from either side of Scott's room. Derek was not exactly talkative anyway, and seeemed at a complete loss for words now. Joe wondered if it pained him to talk about it.

"Look, addiction's an illness, it's nothing to be ashamed of-"

"Shh." Derek's head had snapped to the side and Joe shut her mouth instantly. He waited a bit, before his posture relaxed. "Scott's home."

"How...?" Joe asked, but heard the front door open and shut downstairs. Neither she or Derek made any motion to get up. Seconds later, Scott's gangly form came bounding up the stairs and straight into his room.

"Jesus Christ!" He flailed backwards, grabbing at the doorframe to remain upright. "What are you— why are you— Joe?"

"Why am I the one you're most surprised to see?" Joe asked and indicated herself with the flashlight. "I live here."

"Not in my room!" Scott exclaimed and Joe ignored the pointed look Derek sent her. He let out a shaky breath, he had obviously rushed inside, and she and Derek watched him check through the blinds of his window. His gaze kept flickering between her and Derek. "Seriously, Joe, what are you doing?"

"Stealing batteries," Joe said simply and held up Exhibit A: the flashlight, and Exhibit B: the clock radio. Her social antennas were not exactly finely tuned these days, but she recognized Scott wanted her to leave his room. As much as that hurt, she guess she did not have much choice. "You get the groceries?"

Scott looked away from the window briefly. "Yeah."

"Great, I'm starving," Joe announced. She bounced off his bed, smiled as sincerely as she could to both Scott and Derek, and made sure to close the door behind her. Of course, there she halted and leaned carefully against the doorblade with her ear pressed against it. It was hard to make out words, but Scott sounded agitated, while Derek's low baritone barely filtered through at all.

Scott mentioned something about going viral? Or a spiral? Derek's voice went up a pitch, as in shock or surprise. Joe furrowed her brows, pressing firmer against the door. Maybe viral was something about the drugs. She tried to breathe evenly through her nose, and her eyes widened as she realized Derek's scent was intensifying. Just as the door handle turned, she jumped to the side and pressed against the wall.

"What does it mean?"

Derek paused halfway out the door and looked over his shoulder at Scott. "You don't wanna know."

Joe swallowed, hoping Derek would just leave in a hurry, but had no such luck. He closed the door to Scott's room and revealed her entire form where she tried to make it seem she was just relaxing behind the door. In a last ditch attempt, she held one finger in front of her pursed lips. Scott had seemed stressed enough, no need for him to know she was being nosy.

Derek stared at her with a deadpan expression, rolled his eyes and left without another word.

So, hey, Joe, what's it like living off-campus?

Hey, you know, it's great. Cheap rent, fast internet, all that jazz.

Yeah, but isn't it kinda lonely? What do you do when you're not studying?

Well, the usual, watch TV, surf the internet, lurk in the bushes of the local high school parking lot on a Wednesday evening. Normal stuff.

Joe shifted so that the rock under her elbow relocated to jab into her ribs instead. The dirt was riddled with cigarette butts and she did not want to think of what else she was laying in. Where was Jimmy? With the parking lot being huge, she had not wanted to take any chances of an ambush (in case he was a psychopathic killer), so she had gotten there way too early and hidden in the nearby forest with her night-vision binoculars. They had been her father's idea of a great Christmas present for a twenty year old girl, but they were coming in handy now. She watched the world through several shades of bright green, waiting for Jimmy Carter to show up.

That was as far her plan went. What she would do afterwards depended a lot on Jimmy, but she had the taser and heavy flashlight ready in case of any trouble. She used to own a pair of knuckledusters too, but couldn't find them and figured asking either Aunt Mel or Scott would just cause concern on their part. Jimmy was tall, but scrawny — she figured she would be able to outrun him if push came to shove.

First he had to show up. The clock was two minutes past eight.

No cars in the lot, not that she had expected there to be. Paranoid creep like that, he would definitely come on foot. So where would he want to meet? She scanned the lot. Under a streetlight to better gauge her expressions, maybe. Or in the darker corner to avoid detection. Not in the middle where they would be easily discernible from afar.

Five minutes past. Still no sign of him.

She let the binoculars travel over the far edges of the lot. The green-tinted world shifted and adjusted to the deeper shadows. Her focus stopped on a large blob barely visible through some underbrush on the other side. It had moved, or at least she thought it had, and now she waited to see if it would again. When the auto-focus of the binoculars kicked in, the blob transformed into a definite humanoid shape. Her elbows ached from laying still, but she kept her focus trained on it.

A few more seconds passed and the figure shifted. Yup, that was a person. In fact, it looked suspiciously like someone lying in the bushes with their own pair of night-goggles spying out over the parking lot

Joe slammed down her binoculars and scrunched her lips together at the hot embarassment filling her body. He hadn't spotted her yet, thank God, so she crawled backwards out of her own concealed spot until she was safe to stand without getting seen. Looked like he was as skeptical of her as she was of him. He was lying in the other thicket she had considered for the stakeout. Considered, but dismissed — it was too easy to ambush.

"Hey," she said after she had tip-toed around the lot and could shine her flashlight right at Jimmy Carter.

He made a hacking choking noise and tried to look at her through the goggles: "Ack!"

Glad her binoculars were safely tucked out of sight in her backpack, she waited for him to scramble up to sit on his knees with the goggles now pushed up onto his forehead. He blinked excessively, no doubt the light had been harsh on his corneas, and she imagined he struggled to focus on her.

"What'cha doin', Jimmy?" she asked and folded her arms over her chest. Nothing about Jimmy Carter felt remotely threatening at the moment. "Spying on me again?"

"Well, excuse me for taking precautions," Jimmy said and fumbled with his goggles and earpiece. Like Joe, he'd dressed in dark colors. Where she had opted for black running tights and a hoodie, he looked like he had raided an army surplus store for their tactical night gear. It hung limp over his skinny body, evidently made for someone twice his size.

"Precautions? For what? You're not scared of me, are ya, Jimmy?"

"Maybe I should be," Jimmy said and got up to stand. Like her, he had a backpack stuffed with equipment. "You think I wouldn't find out your dad works for-"

"Shut up!" Joe snapped and looked over her shoulder in case someone was watching them. The parking lot remained empty as ever. She lowered her voice to a hiss: "Who told you that?"

Jimmy met her angry glare equally — now she noticed the dark smudges around his eyes; camouflage paint. "You're not the only one who can do background checks."

"My dad's got nothing to with anything!"

"And I saw you conversing with the Sheriff's kid!"

"Yeah, after you sent me an anonymous e-mail to lure me out of the house!" Joe's fists were balled tighly against her side. "Before chasing us around town!"

Jimmy looked mildly embarrassed, but it was hard to tell in the dim lighting. He folded his arms evenly. "Well, I had to get proof."

"Proof of what?" Joe demanded, still keeping her voice to an intense whisper.

"That you're working for Derek Hale."

Joe studied his face for a few seconds, waiting for any tell-tale signs he would crack up and yell "SIKE!". She saw nothing but earnest distrust. "Are you actually serious right now?"

"Are you denying it?"

"That I work for Derek Hale? For him?" Joe's eyes threatened to bug out of her head. "Working for him as what, exactly?"

Jimmy looked undeterred at her incredulous glare. "That is yet to be determined. You obviously seem to have some skill at detective work-"

"I am not a detective," Joe bit out before he could finish his sentence. "And I am not working for or with Derek Hale of all people!"

They stared at each other in the dark parking lot. Jimmy's beard moved as he chewed on his lips. "Then why are you harassing me?"

"You're the one harassing me!" Joe whisper-shouted.

Before she could say anything else, a fearsome shriek penetrated the night. Shrill and piercing, somehow echoing across the lot. They froze and looked around, Jimmy flipping the goggles back down over his eyes. Joe used the flashlight instead, but saw nothing. "What the hell was that?"

"Sounded like a fox caught in a bear trap. Or a tortured rabbit."

"It did, didn't it?" Joe held the flashlight up high. Obviously an animal in pain. "Some psycho high schoolers playing a prank?"

"Jocks," Jimmy said in a voice of someone who detested even the taste of the word. "They have weird rituals."

The next second they both dropped to a crouch as a full-blown roar swept across the parking lot. It penetrated every fibre of Joe's being, filling her ears and head and heart with a myriad of anger and fear and excitement. The leaves rustled on the ground that seemed to shake from its very core. Jimmy, with the night-goggles firmly covering half his face, looked around wildly, mouth stuck open in a grimace.

It ended, leaving nothing but a trail of intense foreboding in Joe's mind.

"What the hell was that?" she asked again. If the first sound had been a tortured animal, the second was of whatever was doing the torturing.

"Howl," Jimmy said breathlessly. He tore off the goggles and squinted at the far-end of the school, near the main entrance. "Over there!"

"Hey wait!" Joe shouted and sprinted after Jimmy, who took off at high speed. She overtook him easily with him already gasping for breath, and tried to grab onto his tactical pullover. "What's- aaagh!"

Her fingers clutched into the fabric of his sweater as she choked out a scream. She barely registered hitting the ground on her knees, gasping and fighting for every breath.

"Hey, Delgado? Joe? Joe!"

Jimmy crouched down to look at her and she desperately tried to make him understand. Her heart and lungs burned with pain and when her other hand clambered across her chest, she could not understand how they came back bloodless. Joe had never been shot, but she could only imagine it felt like this, piercing through muscles and essential organs.

"Joe! Joe, what's happening?"

She lost grip of his sweater and fell forward onto her hands and knees. Spit dribbled from her open mouth and she fought for each breath. Her heart that had seemed to stop now thumped back into a steady, but elevated rhythm. The sensation of not one, but several spears bursting through her skin and puncturing her lungs gradually dulled to nothing.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered and rubbed her chest. The fabric of her hoodie remained intact, as did her skin and lungs. "I think I just had a heart attack."

The bits of Jimmy's face visible between his beard and camouflage had whitened considerably and sweat laid slick across his forehead. He helped her stand. "Do you wanna call an ambulance?"

"With my insurance? No way."

"We should get you to the ER anyway."

Still too much in shock to speak, she murmured her consent. "My car's just over there."

Half-supported by Jimmy Carter, she managed to get across to the other parking lot. Her car sat hidden in the far corner — she let go off Jimmy to get the keys out, hands shaking from what literally felt like a near-death experience. Jimmy had questioned her on their way over of her medical history, if she was epileptic or diabetic, but now his sudden silence made her look up. The goggles were back on and trained on a dark shadow by the school wall.

"Jimmy?"

Jimmy's hand came up with a single finger extended. He did not look away from the shadow. "Shh."

The scare temporarily had her forget about that intense roar from just minutes before. Now she pulled herself together, muscles tightening, ready to spring into action in case of danger. Jimmy moved slowly, slowly towards the shadow, one hand reaching into the pocket of his cargo pants and pulling out what looked like a taser. One much like the one resting in Joe's backpack.

She edged herself forwards, flashlight brandished like a club, until she caught sight of the unconscious man lying face down in the grass.

"Oh my God!" she yelped, dropped the flashlight and darted forward. A dark stain surrounded Derek's form on the ground — blood. A lot of blood. It soaked the knees of her tights as she knelt by him, struggling to turn his heavy body the right way and check for a pulse. "He's alive!" Jimmy stood frozen to the spot near her car, face hidden by his goggle. "Help me!"

Her shout snapped him out of it and together they managed to get him face-up to see the damage. His chest was a red ruin of torn muscle and pierced skin. With every labored breath, light pink blood welled out of his mouth, a tell-tale sign of punctured lungs.

"Okay, okay, okay." Joe wasn't even aware of her incessant chanting as she tore at his t-shirt further to get a better look. Bad. Really bad. She tore off her hoodie and pressed it into his wound, hoping to stop the bleeding. "Now we should call an ambulance!"

Jimmy seemed immobilized by the sight of Derek, more concerned with scanning their surroundings than. He shook his head stiffly and went to grab Derek's long legs. "It's not safe. We need to get out of here!"

"What? Why?" Joe remained where she was, with Derek's torso halfway propped up on her thighs, pushing into the still pulsating chest wound.

"Whatever did that to him is still out here! Come on!"

The roar. Some kind of animal attack. Joe did not waste time and put her blood-coated hands under Derek's armpits. The leather slipped on her fingers and she groaned when they on the count of three hefted him up and crabwalked over to the car. His head lolled with their movements, completely loose.

"Keys!"

Joe thrust the keys forward to Jimmy. They had squeezed Derek into the backseat and his legs were bent awkwardly to make room for Joe so she could keep tabs on his condition. Weak pulse, labored breaths, blood bubbling between his lips. She turned his head sideways to avoid him choking on the blood stemming from his lungs. His eyes were eerily bright and not responsive when she pinched them open to look at his pupil reaction.

Before Jimmy got the car into gear, they unconsciously held their breath at the sound of another roar somewhere in the night. From their position, they could just barely see some shadows moving inside the school building.

"We should call the cops," Joe said and tried to dig her phone out from her backpack, hindered by the heavy limp body in the backseat.

Jimmy revved the engine and tore out of the parking lot. "No cops!"

"What? Why?"

"Trust me!"

"I do not trust you in any-" Joe and Derek banged against the side as Jimmy made a sharp turn onto the main road. "Jesus!"

A groan from her lap made her look down. Derek's eyes were closed, but apparently moving under his eyelids.

"Derek? Derek!" She tried to get his attention, even pinching his eyelids open again, but his pupils never focused on her, dilating in and out on their own. "Derek, it's gonna be okay. You're really hurt, but we're taking you to the hospital-"

"No hospital!" Jimmy barked from upfront and Joe opened and shut her mouth in quiet rage.

"WHY NOT?"

"Just trust me!"

"You're saying that a lot for someone completely untrustworthy!"

They yelled at each other as Jimmy manouvered the car down the street, making drive-bys and illegal turns that would for sure have them arrested. Joe tried to keep a steady pressure on Derek's chest — the bleeding wouldn't stop! — and found it easier to scream at Jimmy than contemplate just how bad Derek's chances of survival were. Whatever struck him must have cut open an artery, and Joe's first-aid course did not extend that far.

Jimmy finally skidded to a halt in front of a familiar laundromat. He bounced out of the car and tore the backdoor open to help Joe get Derek out.

"What are we doing here? He needs a hospital!" she argued, barely realizing how deja vu this entire scenario was.

"No...hospital..."

Joe had Derek's feet this time, while Jimmy struggled with the muscled torso, but they both heard the weak muttering from Derek's lips. Jimmy gave her a look, as if to say 'I told you so!' and Joe bit down an intensive curse on Derek's insane priorities. What kind of magic bullet was he gonna use this time?!

Somehow they wrestled Derek upstairs and into Jimmy's apartment. Joe's lungs and arms were burning with effort of carrying him, and she doubled over in hard breaths after depositing Derek's body onto Jimmy's dinner table. Derek was too long and his feet flopped off the table edge.

By some miracle, Derek lifted his head a half inch and groaned: "Where..."

"Derek? Listen to me, okay? Please, you need to stay awake! Okay, can you do that?" Joe tried to keep a soothing tone as she unwrapped the mangled mess of his t-shirt. She needed to find the burst artery and pinch it close long enough for the paremedics to get here. If they got here. Jimmy shrank under the wild-eyed look she gave him from where he returned with a first-aid kit. She mouthed: "Call 911!"

Derek somehow found the strength to grab her wrist and mumble: "Joe?"

"Yes!" Her voice sounded impossibly bright, etched with false optimism. "Yes, it's Joe! Okay, you're gonna be okay, Derek, I just have to hurt you a little bit to help you and-"

Tears streamed down her face, the adrenaline still bursting through her veins, and she willed her fingers to stop shaking. She kept talking in that too high, too happy voice, knowing that if she stopped she might stop breathing alltogether. The dark t-shirt was so heavy with blood it was hard to tell it apart from the flaps of flesh.

"...stop." Derek's grip on her wrist tightened and now his eyes were getting clearer. "Joe, stop."

"It's gonna be okay, I promise, just hold still, it's gonna be okay," Joe chattered on. She looked up at Jimmy. He had not called 911. Why had he not called 911? He had the phone in hand, but stood frozen solid, staring straight at Derek's chest. He jumped at Joe's sudden shriek: "We have to get help!"

Derek's head slumped back down onto the table, eyes closing, grip on her wrist increasing. The words seemed to come with enormous effort. "No...wait."

He's gonna die. He's gonna die. He's gonna die!

Joe's thoughts went haywire and she kept trying to be careful to not hurt him anymore than necessary, but her fingers kept tangling in his t-shirt and she could not find the opening and there was just so much blood everywhere and it was impossible to see what she was doing and oh god he was gonna die!

"It's gonna be okay, I promise, it's gonna be..."

Finally, Joe got the courage to just rip the remains of his t-shirt away from his chest. The blood pooled in between his jutting muscles, contouring each abdominal ridge and hollow. The blood did not seem to come from anywhere and wide-eyed, Joe swept her hand across his bare chest, thinning the blood enough to see a completely perfect torso. Unscathed.

His chest rose and sunk with each breath and when she looked at his face, his eyes were open and clear. Bright. Conscious. Anticipative.

"You absolute asshole!" she screamed, balled her fist and punched him right into his sternum. He let out a oof-sound and contracted his body in reaction to her force. Grabbing at her hair, tempted to claw his face off, she yelled: "What the hell is WRONG WITH YOU?!"

Her hair, clothes, face, hands — everything coated in massive amounts of fake blood. She backed away from the table, from Derek, from Jimmy, so enraged she could not string a single sentence together.

"Are you trying to make me lose my mind?!" she demanded, adrenaline crashing through her system. Derek had propped himself halway up on his elbow, meeting her eyes a bit unsteadily. She whispered to herself, in awe of her own gullibility: "Stupid, so goddamn stupid."

"Joe," said Jimmy and took a step forwards.

"NO!" she screamed and held her hand out, as if wishing a weapon into existence. "You stay away from me! Both of you! I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing, but it ends now!"

"Joe, wait." Derek this time, his voice a little hoarse.

"You!" she started, but had no way of continuing. Her teeth bared, she kept backing off, aiming for the front door. "It was all fake? All of it? At the clinic as well? Jesus frickin' Christ!"

"It wasn't fake," Derek bit out, now abandoning his ruse of injury and sitting up on the table. "I healed. Both times."

She let out a string of choice curse words, most portraying exactly where he could stick that so-called healing of his. Her back reached the door and she fumbled behind her with the locks, not daring to take her eyes off the two psychopaths. "You're gonna stay away from me. I swear to God, I'll call the cops if I ever see you near me, my house, or my cousin ever again!"

Jimmy tried to take a step towards Joe. He backed off with both arms raised when she practically hissed at him, but he made sure not to get too close to the table where Derek sat too. "Joe, there's an explanation for all of this-"

"I don't care! Stay away from me!" She finally got the door open and was halfway through it when Derek took a deep breath and called after her:

"You felt it, didn't you?"

Despite her forebodings, she paused for a split second, peering at him over her shoulder.

He had a desperate angry tone: "When the Alpha got me, you felt it, right? In your own chest? As if it was your own lungs, your own blood, your own pain?" When she did not answer, he yelled: "Did you or did you not, Joe?"

She barely heard Jimmy's sharp intake of breath before he whispered: "True mates..."

The look she gave them was of pure and utter contempt. Without another word, she slammed the door shut behind her and ran out of the building.

Making a lot of progress with this story lately, so no harm in posting another chapter. Double-Derek scenes this time, hope you enjoyed them.

Specific question: Any feedback/advice for the summary of this story? I'm not sure it matches all that well, and the character limit makes it hard to give enough away to make it interesting while not spoiling the entire plot.

Also accepting any theories and observations about the story, they are super-enjoyable to read (and respond too).