Rubbing at her forehead, she closed her eyes in an effort to ignore the headache which was forming in her mind. She'd gotten back from visiting Isaac about an hour ago, he'd technically died and had been brought back as he got electrocuted. It had gone past the point of the forty-eight-hour mark and they had yet to find Stiles.
Instead, she was left sitting at the table with her phone in front of her ready to answer anything which needed to be answered.
Hearing the door to the loft opening, she glanced up to see Derek walking in and he immediately pressed his hands to his ears. "What is it?" She asked as he looked around before heading towards a crook in the corner. He pulled out a garden light looking object and pressed a button. Even her own headache seemed to disappear as he did it and everything fell into peace.
Frowning, she pushed herself up and walked over to him to have a look at what it was. "Did you put this here?" He asked, and for a moment she looked at him as if he was stupid. He nodded already knowing what she was saying, "yeah, this is definitely Argents."
"Well....what is it?" She asked again, repeating her question.
"It's an emitter. It's used to hunt and trap werewolves."
"What like a cat noise maker?" She asked, and he raised his brow as he glanced over at her.
"Yeah, I guess..."
"Huh..."
Knocking on the door of Argent's apartment, she glanced down at the emitter in her hand before back to the door. It was such a weird contraption and she couldn't help but think was the hunters treating the werewolves like cats. That was a thought, she kind of really wanted a Birman cat.
Hearing footsteps coming from behind her, she looked back and raised her brow as Argent walked towards her. "Margo?" He asked, and she pressed her lips together with a sigh before holding up the emitter.
"I was hoping you still went by the code and if you were trying to kill Derek then I wouldn't be included in that vendetta," she admitted, as she waved it slightly. His brows furrowed as he unlocked his door taking the item from her to inspect it and make sure it was his own.
"Where did you get this?"
"The loft."
"What's it doing in the loft?"
"Why does everyone think I know the answer to that question?" She asked in a low whisper just as a crash came from within the apartment and both of them flicked their heads to look at it, "what was that?"
"I don't know."
As they headed into the apartment, they both took careful steps and Margo stuck close behind Chris just in case there was a potential threat within the building. She could feel her heart tightening and she clutched at the sleeve of her denim jacket and pulled it over her hand in an effort to distract herself.
Making it into the office Chris brought his gun out and looked around. Another emitter had been forced into the wood of the table and was sat upright. He stepped in and Margo stepped in after him whilst Chris was flicking his head around each door. "Lose something?" A familiar voice sounded.
Chris whirled around but Derek knocked the gun from his hand and grabbed onto his neck with his claws but Chris was equally as smart and pulled out another gun from his jeans and pointed it to Derek's head. Margo glanced between them waiting to see who was going to make the next move. "Why are you breaking into my apartment?" Argent asked.
"Why are you leaving emitters in my loft?"
"I have no idea why that would be in your loft," Argent countered, after a look shared between them they stepped apart cautiously and Argent walked over to the table, "I spent the entirety of the last two days trying to find Stiles," Chris admitted.
"Any luck?" Derek asked just as Margo's eyes fell on the cuff's of his leather jacket. They were unzipped again and it was bugging her because it was just like back when the whole mess had started and he was still living in the burnt down house.
"No."
"Me, either," Derek sighed, "Okay, we're both trying to find Stiles. Mind if I ask what you plan on doing if you find him?" Margo snapped her gaze to Derek at the question.
"Well, that depends on which Stiles I find."
"What?" She asked, looking between them, "no, there's no depending on anything," she argued and Chris looked over to Derek as if testing him but the werewolf said nothing. Instead, he was looking over to the broken cabinet at the side which looked out of place in the room. Chris followed his gaze before walking over to it.
"Broken," he muttered confused, pulling open the door, "this isn't mine," he urged and Margo stepped forward to see what it was - a briefcase. "This isn't mine."
He reached out ready to open it, "careful," Derek urged, and Chris looked at him slightly irritated before opening the lid slowly and carefully. There was a lot of money inside.
"How much do you think that is?" Derek asked.
"One hundred fifty thousand. But, it doesn't make any sense... We never took the money."
"What do you mean you didn't take the money?" Margo asked the real question being who's money, was it?
"It belongs to a Yakuza named Katashi. He has a nickname."
"You mean, something like..." the three whirled around to see Rafael stood in the doorway holding up an evidence bag which had a silver claw-like object within it, "silver finger?"
"Where did you get that?"
"Off Katashi's dead body."
"You're going to have to start investing in better security," Margo whispered to Chris who looked at her irritated.
The three were sat in the Sheriff's station. It went Margo, Derek, and Argent. All of their hands were handcuffed to the bench and all of them were irritated. Both Chris and Derek wanted to know why they were being framed for murder whilst Margo wanted to know why they had the audacity to believe they had the right to kill Stiles.
"So... I don't suppose you have any idea why Stiles would frame us for murder?"
"I didn't think Stiles was smart enough to frame us for murder..." Derek scoffed.
"He did it twice when he first met you," Margo droned, her voice dull and robotic.
"To be honest, I'm not entirely convinced that's why we're here," Chris admitted.
"What do you mean?"
"McCall is going to come out here any minute and probably talk attorneys. Say you've agreed to allow mine to represent you both," he explained and Margo's brows furrowed. She hadn't even thought about an attorney.
"Why should I trust your attorney?"
"Because I'm not calling my attorney yet-- I just want more time."
"To do what?"
"To figure out what we're really doing here."
Her thoughts were on Stiles. Her kid brother was out somewhere alone and cold, and she knew that deep down he could easily be terrified. What was worse was that she was stuck with two people who'd quite happily kill her kid brother?
"I could easily get out of these, you know..."
"So could I. But, I'm not interested in being a fugitive from the law," Argent countered.
"Well, I'm not interested in being a victim to a seventeen-year-old possessed by a psychotic Fox."
"Just give me a few more minutes," Derek said nothing causing Chris to grow annoyed and desperate, "Derek!"
"Okay, fine. If something happens, don't expect me to risk my life trying to save yours."
The station grew busy with numerous people panicking. One man ran forward with shaking hands and tried to unlock their handcuffs, "what's happening?" Argent asked and Derek looked around trying to listen out for something, "what's happening?" He repeated.
Hearing a ticking sound, Derek looked behind them to see a small box in the Sheriff's office. Realising what it was, his eyes grew wide, "GET DOWN!" He shouted, breaking out of the handcuffs and throwing himself around both Margo and Argent in an effort to prevent their human bodies from getting damaged as the explosion went off.
They felt the heat smack them along with the collection of debris. Even though Derek had protected them it didn't stop the humans from being hurt and affected. Sirens rung through their ears and everything became a blurred haze. The moment it was over, Derek pulled back already healing and he glanced over Argent who was pushing himself up before he looked over to Margo.
"Margo?" He asked, moving his hands to her neck to support her head and through the thick fog which was clouding all sense of judgement she reached out and grabbed onto his shoulders to steady herself. He analysed every single cut and burn which seemed to be covering her in an effort to work out whether any of them would be dangerous. "You alright?" He asked, but she couldn't hear him. "Margo?!" He repeated his voice sterner and even though this time it was simply a noise she nodded. It was better than the first words he'd spoken.
Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he dragged her into his chest so that she was leaning against him as the paramedics flurried into the building to get to everyone.
It had been thirteen hours. All three of them were tired but none of them could find the energy to actually rest. If they did then it might be the death of them. Margo was also stuck fretting about the fact her brother was doing god knows what and she had no idea what was happening. He was sat beside Derek as the said werewolf tried to hear what was going on outside. Margo was stood in the corner diagonal to Derek with her forehead pressed against the wall. The coldness did nothing to fill the void which was forming inside of her.
"Still nothing...? Derek?"
"Hold on..." Derek muttered, waiting a few seconds, "You were right. They're moving all the evidence."
"Was there anything about the murder itself? Any other details?"
"Just about putting Katashi's things in a federal lockup, and something about Stilinski being out for the day. You know... If all of this is true, people are dead because of Stiles."
"But is it really Stiles? Remember, we've had this problem before..." Argent reminded, and whilst she didn't speak. she listened to every single word. Feeling sicker as they spoke and more agitated and like she wanted to run.
"But we got lucky with Jackson. What happens when you don't get lucky?"
"I guess it depends on how much or how little of Stiles is left. You ever heard of the Berserkers?"
Derek nodded, "Germanic warriors. They wore the skins of bears to channel their ferocity."
"They didn't just wear them-- they became them. You know, a couple years ago, a family came to us for help with their son... This group of teenagers, they were doing all sorts of rituals with animal skins. Somehow, they tapped into it. But, with Berserkers, the human side doesn't last long-- they're not tempered by the moon."
"He killed people?" Derek asked.
"He tore them apart. Eventually, I had to tell the family their son was gone. It took three of us to take him down. Almost every bullet we had. And, when it was over, I felt no remorse. None. I knew that kid was long gone."
"Would you feel any remorse putting Stiles down?"
A pain shot through her chest at the reminder, "Stiles? Yes. But not a Nogitsune."
Argent was then removed as his lawyer had arrived and Margo rolled her head away from the wall to look back at Derek who was leaning back looking so casual. He always looked so casual.
Spotting his open cuff, she took a seat beside him and sluggishly reached out and began to fasten it and he glanced at her confused slightly before holding his arm out to make it easier for her. "Were you going to tell me that you were planning on murdering my brother?" She droned and he tensed knowing that this conversation was going to end badly.
He took a minute to think about his response as she moved onto his other arm, "he's killed people, Margo." She stopped with her hands still holding his wrist to remind him of the great stakes, or at least what she hoped was great, that was on the table.
"So have you," she countered, "so has Argent. So has Peter. So has Deucalion. Or did you simply forget that detail?" She asked, and he could see it In her eyes. The warning.
"I'll do what has to be done."
"If you do this then I'll never forgive you," she warned, she hoped that would be enough. That somewhere deep inside him that would be worth more than the monstrous act he wanted to commit. He pressed his lips together with a nod as the pain shot down through his heart. That told her all she needed to know and the tears began to sting at her eyes as she knew what words were about to leave his lips.
He'd thought about it. He'd spent hours thinking about it; asking himself the question 'would it be worth it? Would safety be worth losing everything and the answer was yes? It wasn't his safety that would be guaranteed but instead hers and if her being safe meant she'd never spoken to him again or hate him even after death then that would be okay because at the very least she'd be alive. It had to be worth something; he'd lost everyone else, what was one more person?
"I know."
Nodding, she pressed her lips together taking a wavering breath to prevent herself from crying. Pulling her hands away, she forced herself up to a stand and paced on the far side of the cell to think about it.
They didn't speak after that.