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*:･ﾟ✧*:･
TJ was seriously underwhelmed.
She had been sitting on the cold exam table for almost twenty minutes now, and so far all Deaton had done was ask her weird questions about growing claws and fangs, passing out and waking up in random places and whether or not she had ever been bitten by someone, which she definitely would have remembered. Her butt was starting to ache from sitting on such a hard surface, and her toes had begun to tingle. She sent Derek a withering look, who had his arms crossed and was frowning in thought.
"Derek said my eyes glowed orange." TJ offered, hoping to stop Deaton from asking any more slightly uncomfortable questions.
Deaton's eyes widened. "Orange? That's new. I've seen all sorts of colors, but never orange. What triggered this?"
Not knowing why, TJ glanced at Derek for reassurance. He nodded at her once encouragingly, and she nervously admitted, "I was freaking out, and touched Derek's arm and it was like I was somewhere else. There were two teens, and they were crying and holding each other. I remember knowing that death was coming, but not knowing how or why. It was you, Derek, but teenage you — from the night we first met. You were holding a girl. I could feel the death in the air."
Deaton looked surprised, and cast a side glance at Derek. Some form of silent communication passed through them.
Derek tried but failed to mask his uneasiness, and instead turned to face Deaton fully. "Banshee? They can sense death."
But Deaton shook his head. "No, banshee's can predict death but it sounds like TJ connected to a death close to you when she touched you. Besides, banshee's don't heal and you mentioned that you were injured but it disappeared. What did it feel like, the healing process?"
"It was like someone wrapped me in a heated blanket, but it started in my chest and washed over my entire body. It got really, really hot and my arm tingled."
Deaton was nodding, one hand rubbing his jaw as he absorbed the information. He paused, briefly, but it was enough to catch Derek's attention.
The werewolf stepped forward. "What is it?"
Deaton raised an eyebrow, still fixated on TJ. "What about your parents? Are they like you?"
TJ's face shifted and she looked away, focusing on the small square windows that lined the top of the wall and let bright light into the room. She was very still, remembering her parents' faces. Over time, her memories of them had turned blurry. Blinking harshly, she cleared her throat. "They died when I was little. House fire. I was the only one that survived."
"Did you get out?"
She shook her head. It felt very invasive for her to be discussing her parents' death like this, but Deaton didn't strike her as the type of person to gossip. Her voice wobbled as she said, "No, they found me after the fire was put out. Under the bed."
