Hey, I just wanted to quickly say a big thank you to anyone who has Read/Reviewed/Favorited etc. It means a lot. As slow as I am with updates, I'd be a lot slower if it weren't for the email reminders and the people who have been kind enough to put up with me. Also, I realize it seems that not much is happening but I promise that I'm going to explain everything. All mistakes are my own. Thanks again for sticking with me!
The bullet was deeper than he'd expected and the combination of Scott's muffled screams and his daughter's sobs wasn't making it any easier for Chris to extract it. As a man who generally works well under pressure, Chris finds himself fumbling with the tweezers, seemingly unable to grip the wolfs-bane bullet that was slowly killing Scott. He glances up at his daughter, far too young and innocent to once again be covered in the blood of someone she loves. She is a wreck, and yet, he is momentarily stunned by her strength. He thinks that in this single moment, with her tears and Scott's blood mixing together, his daughter has never been so strong. She would no doubt scoff if he were to voice his thoughts. Scoff and try to convince him that she had never been so weak, the cliché teenage girl who became a blubbering mess at the sight of blood. And while Chris realizes that it's true, she is definitely breaking down, he expects that most girls in Allison's situation would do much more than cry. She's stronger than most. Because blubbering mess or not, his seventeen year old daughter had just yanked ribs out of her werewolf boyfriend's lungs. To Chris Argent that's about as far from weak as it gets.
He pauses in his ministrations, giving both himself and the frightened teens a brief moment of respite. He eyes his daughter once more. She is gripping Scott's hand in her own and murmuring words so softly that Chris wonders if she's speaking at all. The words that leave her lips aren't audible to human ears, though looking at Scott, Chris surmises that they aren't meant for human ears at all. The young werewolf's gaze never wavers from Allison's lips as he desperately strains against whatever demons are plaguing him. Whatever she is saying must be working because the screams have momentarily softened.
The tenderness between the teens is overwhelming to Chris and he feels as though he is intruding on something deeply personal. Using the back of his hand to wipe his brow, Chris realizes something that will end the short-lived moment of peace. The cut isn't deep enough. He furtively glances at his daughter again, hoping that she has not come to the same conclusion. So engrossed in soothing Scott, she fails to notice the panic on her father's face. He thinks this is probably for the best. Better to take action without warning. He picks up the knife and digs once more into Scott's bloodied torso. The reaction is immediate as Scott begins to writhe around, straining against the tight grasp that Allison has on him. She begins speaking louder, in panicked tones, doing everything in her power in an attempt to calm the boy down.
While her words are now discernable, Chris doesn't have time to process what his daughter is saying, he redoubles his effort to put an end to their collective misery. Using one hand to clamp the wound open, Chris becomes desperate in his search for the tiny bullet that has caused so much damage. The tweezers are useless as he digs around the open wound. So focused on finding the offending object, it takes a moment for him to realize that the constant background noise has changed. The sobs of his daughter have increased exponentially, but there are no longer muffled screams.
Flashback
"Where do you think you're going?" Chris Argent doesn't even have to look up to know that his daughter is attempting to leave the family home unnoticed. He hears the sigh as he turns around, motioning with his finger for Allison to come to him. She wears a look of exasperation and annoyance as she makes the short walk towards him. "Do I need to repeat the question?" He knows he doesn't. Knows that she heard him clearly the first time. He also knows that she needs the extra few seconds to come up with a good excuse. He's hoping that it'll be a little less generic than the usual ones. His silent hopes clearly fall on deaf ears.
"I'm studying with Lydia at the library." She is blunt and direct and he has to admit that she's getting better at lying. There was no hesitation in her delivery, and yet it wasn't quick enough to seem rehearsed. She wasn't fidgeting or playing with her hair, and she maintained an appropriate amount of eye contact. If she were talking to anyone else, he's sure they'd believe her in a second. But she wasn't talking to anyone else. Normally he'd smile and send her on her way, but today Chris Argent wants to see how far his daughter is willing to go to get what she wants. "It's Sunday. I didn't think the library was open on Sundays?" He's got her and he knows it. She'll falter across her words and retract or adjust her previous statement. He's surprised when her only reaction is a sigh and an eye-roll.
"The public library is closed but finals are coming up so the school library is open 10 to 2 on the weekends." Her answer is bored and patient, as if she is explaining something ridiculous to a small child. He's not sure if he should be proud or insulted by her quick wit. "You can check the school's website if you're really that interested in my study habits." The annoyance is back in full force as Allison furtively glances at the door. He knows that she wouldn't give him the option to catch her in a lie if she wasn't fully confident in her research. She's looking plaintively at him as she readjusts the strap on her schoolbag. "Dad? Is there something else you need to question because Lydia is waiting for me?" She gestures with her hand to the door and raises her eyebrows in question.
He knows she's not going to the library, knows she won't be studying with Lydia. But Chris Argent has always followed a code, and anyone who can execute a lie as perfectly as the one concocted by his daughter is entitled to a few hours with her "secret" boyfriend. "Sure go on. Have fun with Lydia." She may have gotten better at lying, but no one is better than him. His warm smile convinces her that she's in the clear, leaving him none the wiser, and she prances out the door with a grin far too large to be associated with the prospect of studying. He stands in the window and watches her speed away. Adept with a bow and now able to lie with the best of them, he knows she'll make an excellent hunter. He's proud of her, he really is. And he's happy that she's growing up and on her way to becoming a true Argent. But the dull ache in his chest reminds him that, as good of a liar as he is, he still can't quite successfully lie to himself.
End Flashback
He thought he'd seen the worst of it minutes ago, thought that things would get better. He'd get the bullet out, Scott would be okay, and Allison would compose herself. Glancing at his daughter, he has never seen her so distraught. He had yet to retrieve the bullet, Scott was the opposite of okay and Allison… he thinks she's starting to hyperventilate. Her breaths are coming in strangled gasps and she is looming over Scott with a look of pure fear and heartache. "He's not breathing. Dad, he's not breathing!" Her eyes flicker between Scott and himself. He's not sure what she sees when she looks at him but it's obviously not reassuring or helpful. Her eyes widen as the tears stream out. She turns away from him and he feels as though he's failed her. "Scott… Scott! Please, Scott wake up. Wake up Scott!" She's gently shaking the boy as she's choking on her own sobs.
He is surprised to feel the familiar sting of tears in his own eyes. He's watching his daughter fall apart in front of him as the most important thing in her life is ripped from her. While this would pull at the heartstrings of any father, Chris doesn't even attempt to convince himself that his daughter's heartbreak is the sole reason for the tears that are prickling his eyes. If he's completely honest, he doesn't want the boy to die. Scott was a kid who had done nothing but care for Allison and ensure her safety. And although most of the time Scott was protecting Allison from himself, he went above and beyond what most boys his age would do. And though he'd prefer it if his daughter were in love with someone a little less supernatural, Chris had long since come to terms with the fact that Scott McCall would be in his life for most of the foreseeable future. And though he'd never admit it, Chris was kind of happy about it. He was fond of the boy, fond enough to turn a blind eye to his secret meetings with Allison. Which made watching him die that much harder.
He feels completely helpless as he continues to watch Allison beg and plead with an unresponsive Scott. Her gentle shakes have increased in force and have now been combined with the sporadic slap to the face. She's doing everything short of inflicting additional harm to the boy. He thinks that her stubborn determination is the only thing keeping her from collapsing in emotional anguish. His hands reach towards his face and he viciously rubs the salty tears away, unwilling to witness anything else. He's exhausted and lost as he focuses on her, hoping for her to grasp reality and acknowledge what has happened. Instead, he sees the exact moment where she snaps. She turns to him, and for a moment all he sees are the similarities between his daughter and his late sister. The tears are still present but her eyes are so full of fury and hatred that he flinches away from her stare.
"Why aren't you doing anything?" The question is asked with a viciousness that Chris would never associate with his daughter. "Allison…" The breaking of his voice is stunning to both of the Argents. It confirms many things, but he knows that all it means to Allison is that he's given up. She shakes her head vehemently at him as a fresh wave of tears run down her face. "No. No!" She moves towards him, grasping at his collar with a force he didn't think she possessed. "Scott McCall is not dead. He's a fighter. He fought for me, and now I'm going to fight for him." She looks at the tweezers, still protruding from the entry wound, and rips them from Scott's body. Using her thumb and forefinger as replacements for the discarded tweezers, Allison reaches into the wound and finishes what Chris had started. A grimace on her face, Allison deftly maneuvers her fingers in the gaping hole, frowning as she searches for the bullet.
Her hand emerges in a fist, a fresh coat of blood covering the surface. As her fist slowly unfurls, Chris is astonished to see the blood-soaked bullet. Mouth agape, his eyes meet Allison's. She thrusts the bullet towards him in disgust. "Get this out of here." He takes the object in his hands and doesn't hesitate to throw it across the house. Allison's surprise at his reaction is brief and she turns her attention back to Scott, still not breathing. "It's not working." Her voice is soft and confused, laced with a gut-wrenching layer of sadness. She turns to him and he can see that the anger is gone, replaced with nothing but anguish and despair. "Why isn't it working?" The whisper is barely audible. "Dad? Why…why isn't….why isn't it working?"
He's ready for it when she finally breaks. She collapses in his arms and sobs harder than she had all night. He didn't think that was possible until now. He's stroking her hair and he feels the tremors wrack her body. The tears seep through his shirt, and despite their warmth they leave him with an icy feeling. Why wasn't he healing? The question runs through his mind as he attempts to go against nature and remember how to heal a werewolf. The bullet is out, so why isn't he healing? The realization is so sudden that he hastily pushes his daughter out of his arms. He knows she's saying something but he doesn't hear anything because he remembers. He remembers!
He moves without thinking and his gun is in his hand before he knows it. His fingers move routinely as he ejects the cartridge and removes a single bullet. He moves swiftly to Scott's side and pours the gunpowder onto the linoleum floor. He fumbles with the lighter, unable to get a spark. He doesn't struggle long though, the lighter is quickly snatched from his now cognizant daughter. With a nimble flick of her thumb, the flame bursts from the device. He pauses and gives her a questioning look. The minute smirk and shrug of her shoulders lets him know that he doesn't want to know how she is so adept with lighters. He motions to the powder and she quickly sets it ablaze.
It stops smoking and Chris hastily scoops the ash into his hand, pausing before administering it to the wound. He shoots Allison a questioning look, asking for permission. "If it can help. Do it." She's pleading with him and he doesn't hesitate to follow her command. He presses the embers into the gash and holds his breath. He can only hear two things now, the erratic thumping of his heart and the soft begging of his daughter. "Please work. Please, please work." He's silently pleading the same. Please work.