Sitting on the couch in the Sheriff's office of the station, Clark was numb. Laura was dead. Derek had hid it from him. Derek had been arrested for murder. The Sheriff was sitting at his desk, typing away at his computer and looked preoccupied with his work.
Unbeknownst to Clark, Noah would routinely take his eyes off his computer screen to look at the boy. He was in a daze, his brown eyes looked almost lifeless and it was evident that the teenager's thoughts were far away from everything happening in the station. Had Noah not had a previous run-in with Clark, he would have considered the possibility of the boy being mute. No-one, not him, not one of his deputies, nor Scott or Stiles, had managed to get a single word out of him. The only slight acknowledgement Noah had received from him was back at the crime scene, when he had placed a comforting hand on Clark's shoulders and explained that he was going to have to accompany him to the station. There had been a flash of anger in the teenager's eyes as Clark had assumed that Noah suspected him of being involved in the murder. Noah hadn't gotten any further acknowledgement from him since explaining that he wasn't under arrest.
Derek, upon returning to the remnants of the house and promptly getting arrested, had hastily given up his right to remain silent but only to declare that Clark had not be involved. The older Hale had also refused to say anything else since then.
It was the younger Hale's behavior which was more concerning to Noah as his eyes narrowed at the boy sat on the other side of his office. He could understand Clark being surprised and knocked for six at the revelation that his brother was a potential murderer - innocent until proven guilty was something Noah believed in heavily, even if the brunt of evidence was pointing convincingly towards guilty - however Clark's behavior stroke him more like grief.
Noah had a feeling that there was more to this latest case but he wasn't going to get any answers if both Hales continued to maintain their selective mutism stances. His eyes flicked back to the report on his computer screen; a report that gave him further reasons to be concerned about Clark Hale.
A knock on his door took Noah's attention away from his computer. It also sparked acknowledgement from Clark who tentatively turned to the door, following Deputy Lattimer's every move as she approached Noah's desk. She sent a glance in Clark's direction, unsure whether to proceed with what she had to say with him in the room. Noah set his computer onto its screensaver mode before standing up and indicating for Lattimer to speak, hoping that something she may say about Derek would prompt Clark out of his trance. "He seems to be refusing his right to a lawyer," she informed him.
Noah folded his arms, interested by her choice of wording, "Seems to be?"
"He hasn't said a word since we got him back to the station," Lattimer explained.
"Leave it be for now, then," Noah instructed, "Let's see if he changes his mind about staying silent after spending a little more time with us." Lattimer gave a short nod before turning and walking out of the room, Clark watching her every move.
Clark's eyes were fixated on the door and he watched as the deputy slowly pulled it shut behind her. On the click of the door being pulled to, Clark slowly turned back to the Sheriff. Noah was still standing up, though was leaning slightly against his desk, so Clark had to look up to meet his eyes from his sitting position. For the first time since Noah had seen a brief flash of anger, there was a sign of life in Clark's brown eyes as the teenager looked at him, determined. "I want to see him," Clark demanded.
Noah gave a small shake of his head, "I don't think that's a good idea." He'd yet to get Clark's version of events. Allowing him in a room with Derek could easily result in the pair straightening out their stories. As innocent as the young man in front of him looked, the Sheriff couldn't ignore the details of the report on his computer. His heart was telling him Clark wasn't involved but his head was telling him to be careful.
The flash of anger Noah had earlier seen in Clark's eyes returned as the boy looked ready to protest. It was gone within seconds, however, as Clark shut his mouth tight. A smug smile formed on Clark's lips and he raised his eyebrows briefly, challenging the Sheriff.
"You're not going to talk 'til you get to talk to your brother?" Noah realised from Clark's actions. The teenager responded with a curt nod. "Right. I think you're forgetting," Noah responded, keeping his tone calm and casual as he manoeuvred one of the chairs in his office and positioned it opposite Clark, "In this station, I'm the one in charge. I call the shots." The Sheriff took a seat on the chair he had moved, putting himself on the same level as Clark. He didn't want to intimidate him. "Here's the deal. You answer some questions and then you can see your brother. Sound good?"
The only response he received from Clark was a steady stare; no confirmation, no sign of dispute and very little blinking which was somewhat unnerving. Noah asked a question anyway. "Can you tell me how you came across the victim's body?" He already had the story from Stiles but he was interested to see how Clark's matched up, to get a gauge of the teenager's honesty. If he even got a response.
There was a silence that lasted a good number of seconds and just as Noah was ready to accept that Clark was going to be as stubborn about talking as his brother, a word escaped his lips. "Laura." It was said in barely a whisper and Noah struggled to make out what Clark had said.
"What was that?"
"Her name. It is..." Clark trailed off, catching himself. His eyes dropped to the floor as he narrowed them. "It was," he corrected himself, forcing the word out bitterly, "Laura. Laura Hale." Clark lifted his head up, making eye contact with the Sheriff once again as he saw the realisation hit him. "My sister." Clark's behavior made a lot more sense to Noah with that revelation. "Derek wouldn't have killed her."
"Then why did he bury her?" Noah asked.
"I don't know!" Clark replied, hitting the armrest of the couch in his frustration. None of it made sense. That was the problem. "That's why I need to talk to Derek. I need to understand all this!" There was a desperation in his voice that Clark hadn't intended to show.
"They didn't have a falling out recently?" Noah prompted.
"No! I told you it wasn't him." Clark insisted immediately.
"Okay," Noah decided to move on. He didn't want to frustrate Clark and, with finding out his sister had died and his brother was the prime suspect, he figured Clark's tolerance levels were lower than normal. "Scott told me you thought it was a coyote buried there."
Clark nodded reluctantly. It made him feel stupid. He should have smelt that it wasn't. He should have recognised her scent. "That's what Derek told me."
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation and Clark turned to see Deputy Lattimer had opened the door and was hovering in the doorway, her right hand remaining on the door handle, "Sheriff, Melissa McCall's here. She wants to speak to you."
Behind Lattimer, Melissa hastily appeared still dressed in the work clothes Clark had earlier seen her in at the hospital's vending machine. "Only if you're not busy. I can wait," she told the Sheriff.
Noah looked at Clark thoughtfully before turning back to Lattimer and Melissa who were both waiting for his decision. "Lattimer, take Clark to see his brother."
At that, Clark was immediately on his feet; with more life in him than the Sheriff had seen since arriving at the crime scene. There was a sense of determination in the way he walked to the door, Lattimer taking a few steps back to let him out of the room and proceed to lead the way to the interrogation room that Derek was in. With Clark and Lattimer heading elsewhere, the doorway was emptied, allowing Melissa to walk through. She pushed the door shut softly behind her, shutting out the light hum of the deputies working in the busy station on the other side of the door.
"You've heard what the boys have been up to this time?" Noah assumed as he took his seat at his desk again, inviting Melissa to sit across from him.
Melissa nodded as she took the seat. "Scott told me after my shift. He also mentioned CPS was brought up," she prompted.
Noah responded with a wry smile. He hadn't mentioned CPS in front of Scott but the teenager must have overheard him instructing one of his deputies. "Yes. With Derek's current situation and the previous Hale family tragedy, I assumed that Clark has no one we can call," Noah explained. After returning to the station, Noah had put in a word with the high school principal Thomas and confirmed Derek to be the only emergency contact that Clark had on record. "CPS can't get someone here until tomorrow though so it looks like I'm going to have a guest for the night."
"That's what I came to talk about. We've got a spare room and the space," Melissa pointed out - or, at least, they would have the space by the time she got home. The McCall house rarely received overnight guests - barring Stiles who would spend the night on a blow-up bed in Scott's room - and the guest room had become a dumping ground for old stuff they didn't have much use for. After Scott had convinced her into opening their house to Clark (she assumed that Scott felt slightly guilty for what had happened) she'd left him at the house to sort the mess that was the guest room (or what they had come to call the room of doom because it was impossible to find anything in there). "I'm willing to take him in."
Noah's eyes flicked to him computer screen where the standard Beacon County Sheriff Department logo screensaver was stilled displayed. His thoughts were on the report that would appear if he were to jump his computer back into action. "I don't think that's a good idea," he replied after a moment's thought, turning back to Melissa, "You barely know the kid."
"True. But I still know him more than some random foster family that CPS are going to find him," Melissa countered, "He's probably only just settling in here; new town, new school, new people and now he's going to have to move again?"
Noah sighed. "If you really want to do this, I won't stop you. I'll vouch for you with the social worker they send but I think you need to know some things first," he told her, using his computer mouse to bring up the report he'd been reading through. "I called in a favor with Principal Thomas. He sent over Clark's transfer notes from his old high school in New York," Noah explained as he turned the computer screen around so that Melissa could see it. "Fights with students, arguments with teachers, destruction of school property," he listed off from memory. "Sounds like considerable anger problems."
"All during ninth grade," Melissa pointed out before pointing towards the bottom of the screen and reading, "Significant progress made prior to tenth grade. Clark has almost been like a different student since the beginning of this academic year. It sounds like he's figured out how to manage his anger."
"Maybe," Noah agreed, "But his sister had recently been murdered and his brother has been arrested for that murder. Relapses have been triggered by much less."
"Poor kid..." Melissa commented.
--TW:H--
Deputy Lattimer was walking far too slow for Clark's liking as she led the way to the room that they were keeping his brother in. Clark had been especially patient in waiting to be allowed to see Derek. As he was getting closer, his patience was evaporating and Clark became more and more determined to get the answers to all the questions that had been building up since he had uncovered Laura's body with Scott and Stiles. The sheriff's station was far from huge but Lattimer was making it feel that way at the speed with which she was walking.
Eventually they reached a stop outside a dark blue door complete with a silver plaque which read 'Interview Room 1'. Lattimer opened the door, revealing Derek sat at the table, calm and collected with no concern in sight despite the situation he found himself in. If it weren't for recent revelations, Clark would have been ecstatic at the scene before him which looked almost like a scene from his favorite police procedural television shows and would have been momentarily disappointed by the lack of a one-way mirror. As he stepped inside and the door was pulled shut behind him, none of these feelings hit him, too preoccupied with glaring at his brother.
Derek met his glare with an unreadable expression. "I didn't kill her," he broke the silence with a simple and obvious statement which only infuriated Clark further.
"Do you think I'm stupid?" Clark spat back as he crossed his arms, standing opposite Derek on the other side of the table. There was a chair available for him to sit at but he opted to stand; towering over Derek seemed appropriate giving the circumstances. "I know you didn't kill her!" He exclaimed. "But you lied to me."
"You lied too." Derek countered, his response catching Clark by surprise. He hadn't expected that. "I'm not deaf. I heard you and your nightmares every night."
"So I lied about a couple of nightmares?" Clark gaped at him, surprising himself as he managed to keep his voice calm. It didn't last long, however, for his voice was raised when he spoke again, "You lied about Laura! You knew she was dead but instead of telling me, you let me waste my weekend walking around town with her picture! She was killed and you didn't tell me!"
"You were already having nightmares about the rest of our family who were murdered," Derek challenged, refusing to raise his voice like Clark had. He maintained his calm and collected appearance which was more than annoying as far as Clark was concerned. "I was worried telling you about Laura would make things worse. I was trying to find the right time to tell you."
"You don't get to decide what I get to know! Especially when it's this!" Clark growled, banging his fist against the table in his frustration.
Derek raised an eyebrow at his brother's actions, "I thought you'd sorted out the anger."
"Our sister was killed over a week ago! And you didn't tell me. I'm allowed to be angry about this," Clark snapped. It was definitely a justified anger.
"Don't you see, Clark? Something is wrong," Derek pointed out, his calm and collected shtick which was really frustrating Clark disappearing into a more urgent tone.
Clark scoffed, "Yeah, that's what I've been saying. This is wrong. This is not the way I should find out that my sister has died."
"That's not what I mean," Derek responded. "There's a lot of things going on around here. Someone murdered Laura, someone bit Scott and someone, or something, is affecting you."
"Don't turn this on to me." Clark spoke sharply. He turned away from Derek, staring at the brick wall as he ran a hand through his hair. He knew things were wrong but he was far too angry at Derek to talk about it.
"Clark. I didn't even try to hide the smell from you," Derek continued to point out. "You were around the house for a whole week and didn't notice. Scott was there for five minutes."
"Shut up!" Clark growled.
"You should have smelt it, Clark," Derek commented. After providing Clark with the coyote story to give him time to work out the best way to tell him, he had been expecting Clark to challenge him after school. Clark not noticing or challenging him had given him the excuse not to tell him. Derek had never been good at breaking bad news to his younger brother. That had always been Laura's job. "Why didn't you smell it?"
"I don't know!" Clark exclaimed, spinning around and chucking the table dividing him and Derek against the wall to his left. He didn't want to listen to Derek listing everything that was wrong with him; not when he'd just found out that Laura had died. It didn't seem important. He stood glaring at Derek, fists balled up and his breathing heavy as the door to the interview room burst open and a number of deputies rushed in after hearing the loud crashing of the metal table hitting the brick wall.
The Sheriff appeared in the doorway, Melissa close behind him, as Lattimer and a few other deputies crossed the room to return the table to its normal position. "Is everything okay?" Noah asked, his eyes flicking between the two Hales whose own eyes were locked on each other's. Anger was evident on Clark's face whilst Derek's was - as had been the case since they'd arrested him - mostly unreadable, bar one short flicker of concern. It was gone as fast as it had appeared but Noah had caught it.
Clark turned to the Sheriff; he knew he was specifically referring to the thrown table incident but the question still seemed stupid to him considering how much his life had been thrown in one day. His sister had been murdered and his brother was the prime suspect. "Far from it," Clark responded, shooting one last look in Derek's direction before pushing past the people in his way between him and the door.
--TW:H--
Just when Clark had thought his day couldn't get any worse, the Sheriff hit him with the news that he would be staying at the McCall's house. As nice as Melissa seemed from the three encounters the pair had previously had, Clark was far from enthralled about staying in Scott's house. He was sure Derek would be ecstatic about his latest living conditions since it would allow him to get closer to Scott. As Clark followed Melissa to the front door of the house, however, he had no interest in continuing to do any of the things Derek had asked him to. Derek may have an obsession with Scott but he certainly didn't.
As Melissa opened the door and he stepped inside, all Clark wanted to do was find a bed, go to sleep and hope to wake up in New York and find out that the entire thing was an overly realistic nightmare. Things had been so much simpler in New York; admittedly the first few years had been chaotic but nowhere near as chaotic as his first week back in Beacon Hills felt.
Melissa offered him some food but, uncharacteristically, Clark had no appetite and politely turned down her offer. She seemed to understand that he really wanted to be left alone with his thoughts for she gave him a brief explanation of where everything was, showed him to their guest room and then reminded him to find her if he needed anything before she left him.
The McCall's guest room was an average-sized square room. Looking around, it was obvious to Clark that they didn't tend to use it that often; he couldn't see the far wall for it was blocked floor to ceiling by stacks of boxes with random items chucked inside. The wall to his left - painted cream liked the other two walls he could see - was complete with a standard rectangular window, slightly ajar to allow fresh air into the room. The headrest of the bed - which took centre stage of the room - was pressed up against the wall to his right. Whilst it wasn't a double bed, it was larger than a single bed, and was certainly an upgrade to the one he had at his house. Furniture in the room was sparse consisting of one bedside table and an empty chest of drawers beneath the window near the foot of the bed.
Clark flopped down onto the bed, kicking his shoes off at the same time. His head sank into the fluffy pillows which, evidently, had not been used much. He stared up at the white ceiling above him and, when finally given the chance to be alone and process everything that had happened - realised that he didn't want to be alone. With Laura dead and Derek arrested, he felt more alone than ever. He had once had a big family. Suddenly, he had no one. He propped himself up onto his elbows and glanced around the empty room before whispering, "Cora?"
He hadn't seen or spoken to his sister in the last two days and with all the Scott and lacrosse drama, he hadn't given any thought to it. Suddenly, he found himself really needing to talk to a family member but he had no idea how his thing with Cora worked. She had always appeared at random times; he had never needed her before. "I don't know if you can hear me. I don't know how I can summon you. I don't know if I can. I don't know how this thing works," he kept his voice low as he spoke. He didn't need anyone thinking he was talking to himself or going crazy. He did feel stupid as he spoke to an empty room. "I really need someone to talk to. I don't know if you know what's going on here but Laura... well, it's just me and Derek now. Is she with you? I don't know how this works." Clark paused, almost expecting an answer back. When nothing came he scoffed and flopped back down onto the pillows. "Right, 'cause that was going to work," he muttered sarcastically to himself.
A knock at the door caught Clark by surprise and he slowly lifted himself up again to stare questioningly at the closed white door which led into the hallway of the house. There was a brief moment where Clark thought he had imagined the noise before more knocking told him that there was definitely someone there. He forced himself off the surprisingly comforting bed and made the few steps to the door to open it.
Scott was stood outside the door with his right fist up in the air and ready to knock the door for a third time after Clark had appeared, once again, not to respond to his second knock. His right hand awkwardly went to the back of his neck after Clark pulled the door open and looked at him expectantly; not looking too pleased about his interruption. "Hi, um, can we talk?" Scott asked.
"What's there to talk about?" Clark challenged bluntly. "You were right. I was wrong. End of discussion." Clark turned and went to push the door shut again behind him but something stopped him from closing it. He turned back to see Scott had his hand on the door, preventing him from being able to push it shut.
"I'm not here to gloat," Scott spoke earnestly. "I just wanted to tell you... if I'd known she was your sister, I wouldn't have..." Scott trailed off, evidently struggling to find the words that he wanted to say. It was obvious he felt guilty; Clark had figured that much out on the car ride from the station to the McCall house when Melissa had told him it had been Scott's idea.
Clark didn't need sympathy from Scott, of all people. "It happened." Clark spoke bluntly and paused before continuing, "We can do a lot of things but we can't turn back time. So let's forget about it and move on." Clark made a second attempt to push the door shut but Scott continued to have none of it.
"You can't tell me that you're going to forget about it," Scott challenged. "She was your sister."
Clark forced out a smile, determined to communicate to Scott that he was fine. He wasn't fine, of course, but he needed Scott to think he was. "Almost my entire family burned to death when I was a child. I'm used to the people I love dying," he replied coldly.
Scott sighed but appeared to get the message that Clark wasn't interested in using his shoulder to cry on. He was about to turn to leave the other teenager alone when he felt the urge to ask Clark something he had meant to before the unfolding of more recent events, "You don't like me very much, do you?"
Clark scoffed - a response Scott was getting used to receiving from the younger teenager. "I wonder why," he spoke sarcastically, "It couldn't possibly have anything to do with you getting my brother arrested for murder."
Scott shook his head, "You didn't like me before that."
"Well, it certainly hasn't helped your case," Clark shrugged.
"What have you got against me?" Scott asked again, not interested in dropping the question until he got a valid answer.
Clark realised this and pulled the door open further so they can talk face to face and Scott could stop preventing him from pushing it shut. Scott's right arm dropped to his side and Clark answered vaguely, "I know your type."
Scott looked visibly confused, "What type?"
Clark took a moment to glance down the hallway and confirm that Melissa wasn't in ear-shot before answering, "Bitten Werewolves." Scott's frown only deepened after his response and Clark sighed in exasperation upon remembering just how new and naïve Scott was to everything. "There's two different types of werewolves. Born wolves who inherit the gene from parents; like me and Derek, and those who become wolves after being bitten by an Alpha; you," he reluctantly explained.
"What's wrong with bitten werewolves?" Scott questioned further, practically returning to his original question.
"The bite changes you," Clark answered and received a 'well duh' look from Scott in response. "I'm not just talking about the senses and the claws and the teeth," he began to clarify, "I'm talking about you as a person; your personality."
When Scott continued to look confused, Clark sighed again. "Alright, I guess it's story time," he announced, deciding to explain more clearly by telling Scott of his own experiences with bitten wolves. He moved away from the door and perched himself down on the end of the bed. Scott hesitated before following him into the room, pushing the door shut behind him and leaning back against the chest of drawers opposite where Clark was sitting. "When we moved to New York after the fire and I eventually started going to school again, I wasn't interested in making friends. As far as I was concerned, Cora and Jackson were my friends. I mean, Cora was dead and Jackson was almost three thousand miles away but I was adamant I wasn't going to replace them.
"Then these two kids started working to break down the walls I'd built up. We weren't in the same grade but we all lived in the same apartment block and they started teaching me to play basketball which Derek loved. We were really good friends for two years; I knew everything about them, they knew... almost everything about me.
"Then one night, they got themselves bit. Just like you, no Alpha in sight to teach them the ropes so I took them to Laura. She explained everything to them. She helped them with control. But they became more arrogant and more temperamental than the friends I had originally made. They became more interested in their new power than basketball and hanging out. And then one day, the Alpha that turned them returned back on the scene and that night, they just left. They didn't even bother telling me that they were leaving; they just ran off with their Alpha and I haven't heard anything from either of them since."
There was a pause after Clark finished his story in which Scott finished processing what he had been told. "But... I haven't changed," Scott defended himself.
"Sure you haven't," Clark responded disbelievingly.
"I haven't!" Scott insisted. "I'm not going to. I'm not going to ditch Stiles, if that's what you're worried about," Scott inferred from Clark's story, "And if the Alpha that bit me decides to show up, I'm not going to go running off after them."
"Right, I haven't heard that before," Clark muttered, barely loud enough for Scott to hear him.
"What?" Scott asked, only catching a few of Clark's words.
"'And if the Alpha does show up, I won't run after them.'" Clark quoted Scott in response, adding air-marks with his fingers. "That's pretty much what AJ told me as well and we both know how that one ended."