Wow, I am suuuper sorry for how delayed this is. Freshman year at college was far more stressful than I anticipated and I literally had zero time to work on this. Not to mention I'm just writing as I go along and didn't really know where this story was going. For anyone who has been patient enough to stick with me, thank you! Again, I'm sorry for the wait.
Seeing her aunt get her throat slashed by a vengeful werewolf had been one of the most traumatic moments in Allison's life. The overwhelming feeling of fear and panic was something that Allison prayed she would never have to experience again. Watching the life drain from her aunt's eyes was more traumatic than anything else caused by the late Peter Hale. Nightmares had plagued Allison for weeks following that night, always ending with the dull, lifeless eyes of her aunt. And now… now she was facing the possibility of seeing the same thing happen to Scott.
Hearing her father's demand was shocking to Allison. He was panicked and afraid, two emotions that he rarely allowed her to see from him. Despite his proclaimed dislike of Scott McCall, and his distaste of all things werewolf, Chris's voice betrayed him. Allison had always felt that deep down Chris Argent had an affinity towards Scott, and now, hearing his voice laced with worry and fear, she knew that her suspicions were correct.
Her reaction is quicker and more efficient than she would normally expect. The trip to the kitchen barely registers with her. All she can think of is the amount of blood covering Scott's mangled body. Tremors wrack her body and the realization of what is happening hits her with full force. Scott is here. Scott is here and he's dying. Steadying herself, Allison grips the counter as she heaves into the kitchen sink. The acidic taste in her mouth pales in comparison to the slow twisting in her gut. She's a wreck and she knows it, tears streaming down her face, the taste of vomit in her mouth. Though, she justifies, seeing her boyfriend losing blood faster than imaginable is an acceptable excuse for her terrible appearance.
Gaining control of herself, she spins around in search of the supplies her father requested. She pauses briefly at the array of knives, unsure of which would be best for the task at hand. Shaking her head, Allison quickly snatches the nearest one, realizing that there is no optimal knife for a situation in which her father cuts open her boyfriend. She sprints back to the hallway and notices her father's attempt at moving Scott further into the family home. The trail of blood left from Scott's body being dragged across the floor leaves Allison lightheaded and queasy. Her father is panicking as he tries his best to stem the blood flow on one of Scott's many wounds. The concern she sees on her father's face gives Allison a millisecond of warmth.
The warmth doesn't last.
A gurgled gasp comes from Scott as his eyes fly open. Rather than seeing the deep, chocolate brown eyes that usually light up his face, Allison is met with a strange sight. Scott's eyes were… flickering. Flickering between a deep brown and light gold. This was nothing new for Allison, who had seen Scott on the edge numerous times. What struck her however, were the bursts of red that appeared sporadically within the sea of molten chocolate and gold. Aware of the unconscious clenching of her father's fist, Allison realizes that she wasn't the only Argent to notice the flash of crimson in the young wolf's eyes.
"Dad…" Allison knew that her desperation was palpable. "Please… we need … I need him to be okay…please!" Chris's backwards glance did little to assuage her increasing worries. Menacing blue eyes meeting alarmed brown, and Allison once again finds herself at an impasse with her father. It was Scott's wracking cough that broke the Argent stare down. Allison's eyes flicker to her boyfriend and she watches him cough up a sickening amount of blood.
She doesn't remember moving but somehow Allison has managed to cradle Scott's head in her lap while clutching desperately at his fallen hand. His grip tightens around her hand, and she has the grave feeling that he is holding on for dear life. She's more than willing to be his tether.
Flashback
It's a lazy Sunday afternoon, and a rare opportunity for Allison and Scott to be in the same vicinity without worrying about prying eyes. Scott's mom was at the hospital and Allison's parents believed her to be spending girl time with Lydia. The excuse was flimsy, she knew, but her parents maintained the delusion that the Argent household was one of honesty and openness.
They're lounging in the McCall kitchen after a day filled with movies. Though Allison couldn't recall which DVD's they had seen… she and Scott had been otherwise occupied on the large sofa. He's standing in front of the open fridge now and she can't help but admire the view. "Apple or orange?" Scott's question interrupts her musings and a faint blush spreads across her cheeks. "Hmm?" He laughs at her answer and tilts his head quizzically as if listening for something. His eyebrows quirk and a bemused grin spreads across his lopsided face. It takes her a fraction of a second to realize that he can hear the erratic thumping of her heart. He can literally hear the effect he has on her. Stupid werewolf hearing.
"I asked what you wanted, but I think I have my answer." Scott makes a show of flexing his muscles and striking ridiculous poses. She rolls her eyes at his antics but is fully aware that a smile of her own is blossoming across her face. "Apple." He nods seriously as he puts the orange back into the fridge, but Allison has the suspicion that he's deliberately leaning over for a longer period of time than what is necessary. The cheeky grin he sports as he closes the door confirms her suspicions. He grabs a cutting board and knife and prepares to slice the chosen fruit.
"What are you doing?" She sounds genuinely confused when she asks the question. Scott turns around surprised, knife raised, and looks just as confused. "What do you mean? I'm cutting the apple for you." She shakes her head, "Yes I can see that. Why are you cutting my apple?" She didn't think he could look more confused but, as was the case for most things, Scott managed to surprise her. His eyebrows knitted together and he glanced between her and the fruit. "Because you like your apple cut into slices. You used to use the pieces to make your smile bigger and pretend you were the Cheshire cat because Alice and Wonderland was your favorite movie when you were younger. If you'd rather just eat it as is that's fine I just figured… Allison?" Her mouth was agape and she stared at him astonished. "How did you know that?" Her heart is beating rapidly again and Scott looks at her like she's crazy, "You mentioned it once at lunch." She had, she remembers vaguely. The lunch table had made fun of Stiles for his preference for cut apples and she had recounted the story of her childhood in the hopes of making him feel less embarrassed. She remembers the chatter of the lunchroom was raucous enough that she had to lean across the table for Stiles to hear her. She shakes her head in an attempt to pull herself out of her reverie. "I can't believe you remember that. I didn't even think you were listening." He shrugs as he turns his back to her to continue his ministrations. "I always listen to you Allison. What you have to say is important to me. No matter what, you always manage to calm me down." Her mouth drops again, though this time it goes unnoticed by Scott. She finds that she is once again thrown by the sincerity and openness displayed by her boyfriend. She is once again gazing at him, this time with an entirely new appreciation. She walks up behind him and wraps her arms around him. "I love you." His smile is softer when he turns around and holds an apple slice up to her lips. "Good thing because I love you too." She doesn't think apples have ever tasted so sweet.
End Flashback
She looks up as Chris is busy removing the torn clothes from Scott's body. "Shit!" The profanity leaves her father's mouth and she understands why. Now only in his boxers, all of Scott's wounds are visible. Allison shudders and muffles a sob as she takes in the extent of his injuries. Bullet holes are surrounded by enormous bruises. There are various symmetrical marks that were undoubtedly left by a slew of sharp blades. Gashes, seemingly caused by whips, are barely visible beneath the blood. She subconsciously realizes that each wound on her boyfriend's torso was meticulously caused by someone. Because he was tortured. The thought pops into her head and she turns her head as she once again dry heaves. Tortured. The sweet, unassuming, boy in front of her was tortured. Her breath comes out in gasps, her throat is sore, but the bone crushing grip on her hand quickly brings her attention back to Scott.
Looking down at him, Allison can see that he is panicking. He is struggling for breath and is clawing at his gaping wounds. "Al…Allison… I c..can't…" She understands what he is trying to say and searches his abdomen for the source of the problem. She sees the broken ribs and immediately realizes what is causing his breathing troubles. She knows what she has to do and almost collapses at the thought. She searches around her and grabs Scott's tattered shirt. "Scott," she tries not to let the fear seep into her voice, "Scott I'm going to have to try and set your ribs." His eyes widen and the ragged gasps increase as he understands what she is telling him. "I know, I know. I have to though. I'm going to put this shirt in your mouth. Just… just bite down when it hurts okay. Can you do that for me?" She tries to be soothing but doesn't think that anything could prepare Scott for the pain he's about to experience. She watches as his eyes squeeze shut and he nods minutely. The balled shirt is in his mouth and Allison almost loses it when she sees the tears stream down Scott's face. She glances at her father, hopeless and frightened, and silently pleads with him. For what she isn't sure.
"Allison, we still need to remove the bullet," her father is cautious as he speaks to her slowly and deliberately. "I think it would be for the best if we take care of it at the same time. You get his ribs, I'll get the bullet." She processes what he is telling her and quickly decides that he's right, it will be for the best. "Right. Right of course." Her father grasps the knife and she positions herself over Scott, ready to snap his bones into their proper places. She locks eyes with her boyfriend and brushes his hair off of his sweaty forehead. "On three?" She hears her father's question and her eyes snap to Scott's imploringly. He nods slowly and she replies. "On three." Deep breaths. 1…Scotts eyes close tightly. 2… She grips his hand in her own. 3…
The knife comes down.