Chapter IV: The Truth
"You need to go to a Hospital Clinic," Emory reinforced. "Why the hell you came to a school for help is beyond me."
"Where is Scott?" Derek said with half open eyes.
"He's probably with-"
'Derek," Scott and Stiles approached the Jeep. "Why do you look like that?" asked Scott.
"Is that going to happen to Scott?" asked Stiles.
Derek looked like he was about to answer but then he lost his balanced and crashed to pavement.
"We need to get him to a hospital," Emory said for the billionth time. "He says he was shot."
"Emory, help me get him into the back of the Jeep," commanded Scott.
Emory and Scott picked him up and walked him into the back of the car.
"Emory, come here," Stiles called her over, leaving Scott and Derek to talk. "What did he tell you?"
"Not much other than he was shot and that he couldn't go to the hospital."
"Did he say who shot him?"
"Well I didn't really get there, Stiles. I was a little worried about his health!" Emory started to yell.
Stiles swear he saw a glint of blue in Emory's eyes as she yelled that last part. He stared at her, unable to comprehend what he just saw. Was it a reflection of the jeep in her eyes? A trick of the sun? The light? Stiles would believe anything at this point. Anything except the fact that his cousin was a werewolf.
Scott returned from talking with Derek in the car.
"Stiles, drive Emory and Derek to the animal clinic. After you drop them off, come pick me up at the corner of Jefferson and Wallace St."
Stiles nodded in agreement but looked like he wanted to say something else. However, unable to, he resided in the driver's seat while Emory climbed in the back with Derek and Scott in the passenger seat.
There was little to talk about since no one wanted to say anything in front of Emory. Emory was waiting for someone to say something. But she assumed that if someone wanted to say something, they would. And so she remained silent. She had already lost her temper once when talking with Stiles.
She couldn't remember the last time she had lost her temper like that. She had always been a calm child. Shy, quiet, and most of all calm. Her parents had made sure of that.
They arrived at the Animal Clinic under ten minutes when it usually took at least fifteen. This confirmed Emory's theory that despite Scott's and especially Stiles' coldness toward Derek, they both had enough respect for him to care what happened to him. But at the end of the day, who would wish for someone to die by a gun shot wound. Emory wouldn't wish that on anybody, except for one.
"Emory," Scott said calmly but strongly. "Take Derek inside and do whatever he says until we get back. Do what he says," he repeated. "No matter how odd or strange the requests may seem. And no matter what," Scott emphasized. "Does he become unconscious."
Emory and Stiles carried him into the Clinic.
Stiles then took one last look at Emory. He must not have seen it. Definelty a trick of the light. It had to be. His cousin was not a werewolf. He moved his gaze to Derek. His cousin, fuck his sister, would not become this. She would not be able to go through what Scott goes through and the stuff with her parents. No human could withstand that much fucking pain.
No one, except Derek Hale.
Emory was left to deal with the almost-corpse Derek.
"What do you want me to do?"
Derek looked at her through the sliver of eye ball which was visible.
"Help me." He took his good arm and tried to remove his shirt. Emory walked over to him and lifted his shirt over his head revealing the chest Emory had assumed was under the tight shirts he often wore. She slipped the shirt down his arm to reveal the gun shot.
The gun shot was a hole in his forearm. However, this was different. The bullet seemed to affect the blood around the wound. His veins coming dispersing from the hole had turned a darker color. Almost black. Poison. Why would someone poison a bullet? Why make a bullet more lethal?
"Speak," Derek wheezed. Emory had been staring at the wound with interest but also in silence.
"Poison," she said simply.
Derek nodded and Emory thought she caught a slight smile spread across his lips. "Of a sort," he answered. "Or a least to me."
"What," she didn't understand. "Are you allergic to something that's in the bullet metal?"
Derek nodded again but then closed his eyes.
"Derek you need to stay awake."
Derek opened his eyes.
"Talk to me," Emory said. He would need to stay awake to talk.
"About what?"
"Anything."
"Fine. I will give you directions," Derek slurred but Emory made note of how he seemed more aware of his surroundings. "If Scott and Stiles don't come back with what they are looking for," Emory noticed he intentionally left out what they were trying to find. "You need to saw off my arm."
"Oh no, biggy." Emory interrupted. "I'll just saw of your arm." Emory started to feel her anger from earlier return. "How do you expect me to saw off your arm. I am no doctor. Despite you will need stitches in order to not bleed to death. You might as well die."
Derek saw her eyes. The blue that was in his when he turned. How come he hadn't smelled her when he first saw her in the woods? How had he noticed noticed? How come he still couldn't tell, even when he had power over his strengths.
"Em-"
"I have had enough to fucking deal with when my parents died. Even before their deaths, their opinion was everything. Their influence was everything. It still is. So how can you stand there and command something of me. Command something that would make me a killer. I would kill you. You'd be gone from this world."
"Emor-" he tried.
"You wouldn't have anymore conversations. No more relations with anyone. You'd be alone. And so would be everyone you would leave behind. How could you live one more second thinking of that?"
"Emory."
"What?" She asked just as breathless as the dying werewolf.
"You never told me."
"Told you what?"
"That you were like me."
"That my parents died? I told you last night."
"No," Derek shook his head. "That you're a werewolf, too"
Emory was speechless. Then she laughed. But after Derek was silent she became speechless again.
"Look at your eyes." Emory looked at the hand held mirror lying on the counter beside the cotton balls.
Her eyes. They were indeed blue. But not the normal blue they normally were. They were glowing.
Fucking glowing. But then they slowly faded.
She tore her eyes away from the mirror to look back at Derek. His eyes were glowing as well. The same as hers. His slowly faded as well. However as they faded, he fell to the ground.
"No! Derek!" Emory rushed to his side on the floor. She slapped him across the face.
Nothing.
She slapped him again.
Still nothing.
She stared at her hand as she formed a fist. She moved her fist to above his chest. She pounded her knuckle into his chest.
His whole body lurched forward.
"We're here!" shouted Stiles from the doorway followed by Scott rushing in.
Derek quickly sat up as nothing had happened.
He reached out his hand to Scott who handed him what looked like a bullet. He hauled at each side of the bullet until it sprung open releasing a powder. He then pulled a lighter out his pocket. He lit the powder on the table before picking it up with his bare hands and pushing it in the gun shot hole in his forearm.
It smoked and glowed blue before disappearing. All of it. The wound. The blackened veins. All gone.
Out of all the things that had happened that day. This was the thing that caused Emory's jaw to drop.