Chapter Thirty: Battlefield (Part 1)
Chapter Song: Heathens [MuteMath Edition] by 21 Pilots
☾☾☾
The adrenaline high had come and gone, leaving a sleepy haze drooping over me as I sat in Derek's passenger seat. An old shirt of Derek's was pressed against my side, soaking up the dripping blood. Through slurred words, I had joked to Derek that he didn't want me getting his car all bloody.
He hadn't found it amusing.
My eyes fought to stay open, my eyelids feeling a hundred pounds each. Each moment I kept them open felt like an eternity, and my body ached for release. Relieving myself of the heaviness, they finally slipped shut. My bloody hand holding Derek's now ruined old t-shirt fell limp into my lap, my head lulling to the side.
My heart was beating erratically inside my chest as I weaved between furniture and rounded corners of the townhouse. Pain shot through my entire body as I was flooded with panic, echoes of gun shots ringing out inside the house. A mans scream followed one of the shots. I whipped myself around, wide eyed as I recognized the voice.
"Daddy?" I cried. "Daddy help!"
"Hay-" Another shot.
"Daddy, please!" I sobbed.
"Please." The words spilled from my mouth in barely an audible whisper. Derek looked over to me, doin a double take when he noticed my eyes closed.
"Hayley." He spoke up, dismissing me from the dream world I had been trapped in. "Hayley, wake up. Stay awake." He ordered. My eyes fluttered open to find myself back in the Camaro. The racing of tires replaced the sound of continuous gun shots.
"I'm awake." I quietly replied. As Derek peeled down the roads at a hundred miles per hour, we zoomed past a blue hospital sign with an arrow pointing to the direction we were going in.
"No." I wheezed, my head barely shaking. "I told you no hospital." My fingers squeezed the shirt in my grasp and pressed it against my side once more.
"You have no decision in this, you're not thinking right." I looked over to Derek, who met my weak gaze.
"Only to Deaton's. No where else. My mom...she can't know." Derek's eyes loomed over me once more, assessing how ghostly pale my skin was. He hardly trusted my logic at the moment and he hated not bringing me to a professional, but he reluctantly obeyed to my orders anyways.
☾☾☾
The Camaro came to a screeching halt as we entered the animal clinic parking lot. My body limply jolted back and forth with the seat. My eyes managed to fall closed once again, growing too heavy to keep open. I could hear Derek exit the car hastily, leaving me in an uncomfortable silence. My hands fell into my lap once more, the caked blood plastered on them wafting up into my nose. The smell made my head whirl.
"It's your fault, Hayley." A familiar voice whispered into my ear as if it were coming from the back seat. My eyes jolted open, recognizing the sick voice of that belonging to James Cadwell. My heart skipped two beats, the voice echoing in my mind. Beside me, the car door swung open and Derek reached down and pulled me from my seat.
"Can you stand?" He asked. I muttered a quiet 'mhm' as I planted my feet on the ground. The sound of James' voice whispering incoherent words buzzed inside my head. I planted one of my hands on the car for support, but my knees soon buckled. Immediately, Derek gripped my body tightly to support me. He quickly scooped me up into his arms and rushed us into the building.
"Deaton!" Derek yelled.
There was yelling. So much yelling. I was calling out for my parents. No one called back.
"Derek, what was so urgent that you needed me to come in at —" Deaton cut himself off when he entered the room.
"She was shot. I need you to help her."
☾☾☾
Reality and the past melted into one. I couldn't tell what was real and what was a hallucination. My mind went back and forth between the past and present, leaving me in a daze. Derek laid me down on one of the metal examination tables in the back room. I could barely feel the cold metal against my skin. I opened my eyes, glaring up to the bright shining fluorescent mounted to the ceiling.
The fluorescent inside the ambulance blinded my eyes. The EMT's lifted my quivering body onto a gurney as they began looking and assessing my bullet wounds, speaking in medical tongue that only proceeded to confuse me more.
"I'm not a doctor, Derek. You should have brought her to the hospital."
"She wouldn't let me!" He barked. "She told me to only bring her here. You've helped Scott before, can't you help her?" Deaton walked over to me, taking a scissor to the bullet hole in my dress. He cut away the fabric at the torso.
"What happened?"
"The Kanima master." Deaton paused, looking up to Derek, not bothering to hide his shock.
"They found out who it was?"
"Some kid in their school. And if Gerard took care of him like he said he would, the kids not a problem anymore."
"Gerard was there?" Derek gritted his teeth at the question. It was just a reminder of Scott's betrayal.
"Yes." Deaton didn't respond. He deeply sighed, knowing that if Gerard had anything to do with the Kanima now, it would be even worse than the damage Matt inflicted. Taking a towel, Deaton wipe away blood from the bullet wound. Derek's vision moved down, glaring at the two-inch scar right beside the fresh hole, his thick brows narrowing.
"She's lucky. Nothing serious is damaged. Looks like the bullet only managed to go through scar tissue." Deaton informed after inspecting the found. My vision began focusing and unfocusing like a broken camera lens.
The EMT's hovered. I couldn't feel their latex touch against my skin. All my senses were drifting away. "There's some serious damage here." One of the EMT's mumbled to his partner. I didn't want these strangers taking care of me. I wanted my parents.
"Lucky?" Derek snorted. "She got shot."
"I said nothing serious was damaged, Derek. I'm talking major organs. That doesn't mean she's not hurt. I think you've been shot at enough to understand the situation. Now stop arguing and help me." Deaton chided. Deaton began rummaging through cabinets, finally pulling out a tank and medical equipment and rushing to set it up. Before I knew it, he placed an oxygen mask over my face, holding it down with his hands.
The EMT's began poking and prodding my body, one taking an oxygen mask and reaching forward to strap it around my face. I began whispered to the EMT's, desperate to get their attention. The sound of oxygen overpowered my words.
My lips parted and a mix of words of inaudible words fell out of my mouth. Deaton and Derek looked at each other, unsure of what I said. Deaton paused, lifting the clear mask above my face.
"Hayley, what did you say?" He questioned, his head cocking.
"Help them. Please. Help my parents." I mumbled to the EMTs. They shot each other looks of despair.
"Help my parents." I mumbled under my breath. Deaton inhaled sharply while Derek furrowed his brows once again, even more confused than before. Deaton placed the mask over my mouth and nose, letting me breath in the metal tasting inhalant. Within seconds, my head felt spacey, as if I began to float from earth. One by one, my senses failed me. My vision doubled and soon after began to tunnel. My eyes rolled back into my head and my lids closed.
☾☾☾
Five days.
It had been five days since the hostage situation at the police station. Five days since I'd been shot. Five days since mom found out about the supernatural world. And five days since Matt inexplicably died by drowning in a river less than a mile from the station.
There was an empty void in my heart as the last five days were uncomfortably different. Mom had given both Scott and I the silent treatment and avoided us at all costs. She picked up extra shifts at work and whenever she managed to be home, she locked herself away in her room. Over all the chaos of that night, she someone managed to not know I had been shot. Scott had promised not to tell her. But at this point, I didn't even know if being shot would make her talk to me. She was utterly terrified and wanted nothing to do with me or Scott.
It had also been five days since I found out Scott was working behind my back with our arch enemy. The two of us weren't on the best terms, and I wasn't processing it very well that Scott had lied and fooled all of us. I kept my mouth shut and pretended I didn't know anything. I wanted nothing more than to believe there was some type of logical reason as to Scott's decision to work with Gerard, but deep down I knew it was for Allison.
Speaking of the huntress, we had stopped speaking all together. Apparently her mother had died. Suicide. And while I believed her mother had snuffed out her own life, I held the guilt knowing the underlying reason of why she did so. Allison's priority to kill Derek instead of helping me after I was shot made more sense. But it also made me realize where we stood. There wasn't much salvaging our friendship from that.
Stiles and I hadn't spoken much in the five days either. Our conversations had been turned into sad excuses of quick hellos in the hallway. It was obvious he was overcoming the trauma of seeing his dad being beat up by his lacrosse teammate. It shattered him knowing that entire time, all he could do was helplessly watch. I was thankful the Sheriff had been unconscious at the time the werewolves and Kanima had entered the room. He was saved another day from finding out about the messed up world we lived in.
"How are you feeling?" Deaton asked as I wiped down an examination table.
"I'm alright." I shrugged, digging the rag harder into the metal as I tried to avoid thinking about Matt shooting me. I had been lucky, in a sense. The bullet had gone through scar tissue, missing any vital organs. Deaton, using his magic herbs and Derek's Alpha pain transference, stitched me up. Beside pain here and there, I was halfway healed and halfway back to normal.
"Are you taking the medication I gave you?" He wondered, side stepping me as I moved on to wiping down the counter.
"Yeah, thank you." I nodded. The pain medication, which consisted of a magical mix of Deaton's herbs, was the only thing letting me sleep at night. The pain wasn't even the bad part, especially since Deaton gave me more than I even needed. It was my mind that was the real problem.
"Have you heard from anyone in particular lately?" Deaton hinted. I momentarily paused wiping down the counter, wishing Deaton hadn't felt the need to ask all the questions. On top of everything, it had also been five days since I had last seen or heard from Derek. When I woke up hours after the events of Matt's rampage, I found Derek had left, leaving me only with Deaton to see the visible disappointment on my features when he informed me he had gone.
"No." I swallowed hard, continuing up my cleaning. To my relief, a silence blanketed over us as I continued cleaning.
"You know she'll get over it, right?" Deaton spoke up again. I craned my head over my shoulder to look at him. "Your mom. She'll accept it." I quietly sighed.
"I don't know. She's never gone this long without talking to us. If she even gets a glimpse of Scott or me, she's terrified. And I'm not even the werewolf."
"It's a lot to take in. Try to remember how you felt."
"I have. And yeah, I was shocked and confused and scared. But I couldn't ignore my brother. It wasn't an option."
"Give her time, Hayley. She'll accept it. Now go home. Get some rest." I looked over to the clock posted up on the wall to see it was only half past seven.
"I'll handle the rest. Same time tomorrow?" I shifted my weight uncomfortably and sharply inhaled.
"Uh, no. I think Scott's going to cover my shift."
☾☾☾
I tried to convince myself to go home, but since home didn't feel much like home anymore, it wasn't easy. But even home would have been the better option to what I was doing currently.
Derek clearly didn't want to see me. If he did, he would have been in contact. I called and left him messages five days ago, but to no avail. He still failed to answer. All I wanted to know was that he was okay.
I didn't mind the long walk to the train depot. It kept me busy and more importantly, it kept me away from home. The station was quiet and Derek's car was no where in sight. I assumed he started parking it somewhere else, or maybe even behind the building, just so he wouldn't attract Argent attention. The door creaked on its rusty hinges as I pushed it open and walked down the stairs.
"Derek?" I called, my voice bouncing off the walls. An uncomfortable silence answered me. I continued forward, narrowing my eyes to see through the train carts. "Isaac? Boyd?" No answer. "Anybody?" I walked myself into the cart where Derek stayed in. It was empty. None of his belongings were here. I rushed myself into the other train carts to find just the same. There was no trace of anyone. The train depot was what it had been for the last ten years—abandoned. Derek had taken his pack and left.
☾☾☾
It seemed ridiculous after all I'd been through—the losses I suffered and the things I had witnessed and learned of—that such a simple act of getting out of bed could be so overwhelming. It was probably because of all the things I suffered and witnessed caused me to feel like this.
Especially today.
I was lucky enough for the past three years for the dreaded day to fall on a weekend. I'd stay holed away in my room for the day, barely even going downstairs for food whenever my stomach growled. But today, I wasn't so lucky. School was starting in a little over an hour and I wasn't even out of bed yet. I had debated most of the night whether I should just stay home and call in sick for the day, but staying home meant I'd be alone with my thoughts.
I rolled out of bed and walked over to my dresser, looking at my reflection in the mirror. I looked empty—void of sadness and happiness. Today was the day where I became numb to all emotions. It was easier than dealing with the reality of the pain. Especially when all the memories were fresher.
Still in my pajamas, I padded downstairs in hopes of the coffee already made. To my pleasure, I found a fresh pot awaiting my arrival. Freshly made eggs and crispy bacon sat on a ceramic plate beside the pot while a cinnamon Pop-Tart jumped out of the toaster.
"Hey." Scott greeted, grabbing a carton of milk from out of the fridge.
"Hey." I nonchalantly greeted back. Scott knew better than to make a fuss over today—he never apologized or babied me about it. In fact, we never spoke about it. It was a sore subject that—ten years later—I still didn't feel like speaking about. Scott knew that if I wanted to talk, I'd do it. But especially lately with him, I was far from the talking mood. All my brother did for me on this dreary day of April 6th was make me breakfast. Even though Scott was no Emeril Lagasse, I still appreciated the gesture. Even with him not being my favorite person at the moment. Every year he'd make me the same thing—my favorite flavored Pop-Tarts along with some eggs over easy and bacon. It was all I wanted and all I could ask for, besides no sympathy of course.
"You've got any tests today?" Scott asked, taking a sip from his glass of milk.
"Nope." I replied, pouring coffee into a mug. Our conversations had been short the past five days. The visions plaguing my mind of Scott conspiring with Gerard made me not in the mood for extensive conversation.
"Cool." He nodded. "I've got one in Westover's class. Haven't even studied." He awkwardly laughed. He was more talkative today than usual. Maybe it was the guilt regarding working with Gerard. I stirred cream into my coffee with a spoon, failing to reply. "So...you need a ride to school? I can try asking mom for the car." I mentally scoffed.
"You might be able to ask her but we both know she's not replying." I pursed my lips. "I'll pass."
"Well, I can call Stiles." I rose my brows, picking up my coffee mug and staring at my brother. He answered my silence with a look of confusion.
"Also pass." I said, padding out of the kitchen.
"Then how are you going to get to school?" My brother asked as I padded out of the kitchen.
"We were born with legs for a reason!" I flatly called back.
☾☾☾
The brightly stinging sun slipped in through the window slats, blindingly reflecting off the many diplomas Morrell had displayed on the wall of the guidance counselor office.
"You're not coming in as much as I'd like. We agreed on at least one a month, Hayley." Morrell reminded, her eyes glaring holes into me.
"It's because I'm fine. You should be seeing people who really need your help." I drummed my finger tips against my jean clad thigh, avoiding showing any tell tale signs I was nervous.
"You may be fine, but there are a few things I'd like to talk about. Ten years is a big anniversary. How are you feeling?"
"Just like I did anniversary's one through nine."
"Really? Just as bad as the first anniversary?" She cocked her head. My eyes dropped down to look at my shoes.
"No." I admitted. "It gets easier as the years go on. It's not so much salt in the wound anymore—instead just a...distant painful reminder. The farther I am from it, the more it seems like another life time. There's nothing I can do to change what happened, I can't mourn forever."
"Nobody would blame you for mourning on a day like today." I scoffed under my breath at her words.
"With all that's going on, I don't even have time for that anymore."
"And what is going on?"
"Uh, just school." I avoided the counselors glare.
"Would any of this have to do with Matt?" It wasn't a surprise Morrell knew what happened at the station. It had made local news Matt had held up the station and committed mass murder (sans Jackson as a Kanima in the headlines). The police were obligated to tell Morrell I had been present as well.
"He held a gun up to me. Whatever. Nothing that hasn't happened before."
"Well, that can cause some traumatic memories. Did you have flashbacks to that night?"
Yes. "No." I sighed. "Matt was crazy. And just because he almost died ten years ago he felt the need to take it out on everyone else. You don't see me running around going on a killing spree, do you? We're all alive and that's what matters."
"He held a gun up to you. And he didn't hurt you?" The freshly stitched up and half healed bullet wound in my abdomen ached as a reminder.
"I'm here, aren't I?" I looked up to the clock.
☾☾☾
To my luck, the school day had been uneventful. There was no chaos, no supernatural, nor any encounters with my brother or Stiles. Of all days for Beacon Hills to finally have a normal, uneventful day, it couldn't have come on a more perfect date.
As I passed the hallway containing the locker room, I silently prayed I'd be lucky enough not run into Scott or Stiles. I wasn't in the mind frame to deal with either of them today.
"Hey." A voice softly called. I turned around, finding Isaac exiting the locker room hallway, lacrosse stick in hand.
"Hey."
"Uh," Isaac ran a hand through his hair and took a step towards me, "how are you feeling?" Isaac noticed the confused look on my face. "I heard about what happened with Matt." He elaborated.
"Oh." He must have found out from Derek.
"I'm, uh, I'm okay. Can't get rid of me that easily." I joked. A faint smile lifted his lips for a moment.
"Good." There was a short pause. "I actually needed to talk to you. You know, if you're not running too late to class." My brows furrowed. Isaac? Talk to me?
"Okay..."
"Erica and Boyd are leaving town tomorrow night during the game."
"For good?"
"Yeah. Yeah, for good. And well I, I was thinking about going with them." He admitted.
"What? Why?" Isaac shrugged.
"Change of scenery. There isn't much here for me." I shook my head.
"We both know that's not true."
"Even if there was, Beacon Hills isn't safe anymore."
"I can't blame you on that. But, Isaac, you can't leave everyone behind."
"It's easy to leave when you don't have a family to tie you down." I could feel my chest tighten in the familiarity and sadness of his words. In a way, Isaac reminded me much of myself. "I think it would just be better that way."
"Just because you don't have family in the traditional way doesn't mean you don't have family at all." I replied. Isaac quietly sighed and stuffed his free hand into his jean pocket.
"Look, I didn't come here for a list of reasons to stay. I wanted to apologize."
"Apologize?" I repeated, the word sounding foreign coming from Isaac's mouth.
"For ever hurting you, for disappointing you. For having my ego up too many notches." He finished with a quiet chuckle, brining back our discussion we never finished at the rave.
"It's not anymore." I quietly replied.
"It's not who I was. Derek turning me sent me on a power trip. And I just, I just figured I'd apologize." With a tightness growing in the back of my throat, I couldn't find a way to get any words out. Instead, I nodded. "And, if you could not say anything to Scott about this."
"You don't have to worry about that."
"Cool...cool. So, I guess I'll see you around." I nodded again.
"I'll see you around." I whispered. The smile I gave Isaac faded as he disappeared down the hallway. I closed my eyes, letting out a sigh.
☾☾☾
I sat with my back propped up against a large rock. My eyes glared out in front of me, mesmerized by the view of the sparkling lights. From Lookout Point, Beacon Hills looked beautiful at night. The city was a sea of lights. Looking at it made me question how such horrible things could happen in such a beautiful town...how such horrible things could happen anywhere.
A shiver rolled down my spine as a chilly breeze blew past. I picked up the glass bottle resting at my hip and took a long swig of the pungent clear liquid inside. My teeth gritted together tightly as the burning liquid slithered its way down my throat. I draped my vodka holding arm over the one knee I bent close to my chest.
The more I drank, the less the cold would bother me. Having my emotions suppressed was only an added plus.
Going to Lookout Point had become sort of an April 6th tradition the past few years. There was something about looking over the city lights that blanketed a sense of calmness over me. Although, it could have been the vodka talking.
The area was quiet and secluded since no one ever came up here anymore. It was the perfect spot for me to get away and think to myself. The low hum of crickets that played like a repetitive melody in my head was soon mixed with the sound of leaves crunching.
Footsteps. They were light, quiet. I already had an idea of who they belonged to. Scott usually knew better than to disturb me today. It was the one day a year he was supposed to listen to me and leave me alone. But, since his buddy Gerard and the Kanima were still at large, I'm sure he had a whole speech ready on how I shouldn't be out here alone. The footsteps stopped. I could feel eyes burning into the back of my head.
"You're not supposed to drink on pain medicine." To my surprise, it wasn't Scott. But I didn't need to turn around to know who the voice belonged to.
"That's why I didn't take any today." I quipped, grabbing the vodka bottle by the neck and taking another swallow of the liquid.
"Are you drunk?" Derek asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. I scoffed.
"I wish." I quietly replied.
A silence fell over the two of us as Derek came over and sat beside me. He stared out ahead at the city.
"It makes you feel small, doesn't it?" I voiced. "I never realize how big Beacon Hills is until I come here."
"It's definitely a sight." Derek replied. I turned my head over to him and, still holding the vodka bottle in my grasps, offered it to Derek. Reluctantly, he took it. He pressed the glass rim to his lips and took two sips, swallowing hard a he handed the bottle back to me. I took another sip, allowing the overpowering liquid to silence my nerves.
"It's hard to believe that such a beautiful place can have such bad things happening in it." I paused and sadly chuckled. "And we're the ones caught up in it."
"It's not always bad." Derek quietly assured. I internally scoffed at myself, since when was Derek Hale the positive one around here? I focused myself back on the twinkling city lights. The calming feeling the scenery had once given me was replaced with hollowness. I wondered if Derek felt this way too.
"James Cadwell." The words fell out of my mouth before I could control myself. I mentally cursed out the alcohol in my hand. Derek turned his head and looked at me in a wave of confusion. I continued to stare ahead, not having the guts to look at him.
"The news dubbed him the Boston Butcher." Derek had been young at the time of Caldwell's reign, so I didn't expect a glimmer of recognition to sparkle in his eye. Cadwell hadn't been a Manson or a Bundy, but any modern day serial killer name had been talked about often. "You wanted to know more," I reminded him of that night we were supposed to talk. Isaac and Erica had interrupted though. "He killed my parents ten years ago today." It took Derek a minute for my words to sink in.
"We never finished our conversation." He remembered.
"We never finished a lot of conversations." I looked over to him, my eyes trailing down to his lips. I forced myself to look away. "But this...this we also didn't finish."
"I'm sorry for my Beta's interrupting." He apologized.
"Yeah, well, they've been a pain my ass. Thank you." I could feel the hole I was digging myself deeper and deeper in. I took another swig of vodka.
"They can be a pain in the ass." Derek lightly agreed, hiding a smile in his voice. Another silence fell over us.
"He was an officer with my dad. They were partners, actually. They were working on the case, a serial killer that wrote these notes that all of his victims had red glowing eyes and needed to be stopped. Ridiculous, huh?" I scoffed. "My dad...he started to suspect it was someone on the force. He fooled him the entire time. I mean, he fooled everybody. But, he got paranoid and then he walked into the house and shot them." I could feel the familiar sensation of stinging behind my eyes alerting me tears were pooling. I quickly blinked them away. "He killed himself before he found me upstairs. He was too much of a coward to wait five more minutes to get someone else to put a bullet through his head. I guess anyone who kills 11 people would be."
"11?"
"13 if you count my parents." I closed my eyes, having visions of blood all over the home. "I was supposed to be 14."
"He shot you." Derek stated.
"Same area Matt did." I laughed at the irony. "Ten years later. I guess some things never change." I took another sip out the bottle.
"It's not going to be like this forever." He thought.
"I know. And I know I can't hold onto this forever."
"Mourning doesn't mean that you're holding onto it forever. Trust me." I looked over to Derek again. It was seeing him in a whole different light. It was often easy to forget due to his rough exterior, but Derek was just as vulnerable as I was on the inside. For once, I didn't see him as the strong, powerful werewolf he was; but instead as a broken human.
"I do." I spoke up. "I trust you Derek...I may not want to admit it, but I do." I could feel Derek's body stiffen beside me, making me instantly regret opening my mouth. My eyes stayed trained on the city as I expected Derek to get up and leave. Instead, his warm fingers ghosted underneath my chin, leaving a trail of goosebumps to spread across my body. Derek turned my head softly to look at him. My lips parted, tempted to ask Derek what he was doing.
"Then trust me that everything's going to be okay." His promise rang in my ears, his voice low and husky. Derek's face was mere inches from my own. I could feel his breath hot on my skin. Goosebumps rose on the back of my neck as every inch of my body yelled at me to lean in closer.
Before I could take another breath, Derek's head leaned in and our lips crashed together. There was no hesitation as my lips moved completely in sync with his own. Time had come to a sudden halt as I got lost in the heated kiss. In desperate need for air, the two of us reluctantly pulled away, only wishing it had lasted longer. My head spun—not from the alcohol, but instead from the hundreds of thoughts racing around my head as I realized Derek had kissed me yet again. He looked at inquisitively, unsure of his next move. My lips curled into a small, shy, smile as I looked at him. We fell into a comfortable silence as I daringly rested my head on Derek's shoulder, staring ahead at the city once more.
"Do me a favor?" I quietly spoke up.
"What?" He asked.
"Please don't disappear this time."