BATTLEFIELD
(HAS NOT BEEN REWRITTEN)

"You know when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out." Carter began, allowing the rays of sunlight peeking through the blinds in Morrell's office to consume her as she picked at her nails. "It's called voluntary apnea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding."

Images of Matt's lifeless body floating in the river flashed in her mind.

He was finally dead.

"But then when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's actually kind of peaceful." Carter finished, staring up at the counselor seated before her.

"Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments?" Morrell asked.

Carter's hands fell flat on her knees, eyebrows raised at the question. "I don't feel sorry for him. Not even a little. He held a gun to me and my friends. And just because a bunch of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim, doesn't give him the right to go off killing them one by one. And by the way, Stiles told me - that his dad told him - that they found a bunch of pictures of Allison and I on Matt's computer. And not just of us though. I mean, he Photoshopped himself into these pictures. Stuff like us holding hands and kissing. You know, like he had built this whole fake relationship with Allison and I." Carter paused, sinking back into her chair. "So yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old was what sent him off the rails, but the dude was definitely riding the crazy train."

"How does that make you feel?" Morrell asked, her arms folded over the desk as she watched the brunette.

Carter's face fell into a frown and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. After finding out that Matt was turning into the Kanima because he was making Jackson kill people wrongfully, the Argents arrived.

Allison had showed up, her and her father on their mission at first to try and kill Derek only to be distracted when they realized that the Kanima was also lurking inside the building. That lead to the destruction of the police station, paralyzed teenagers, and Matt's much deserved doom.

Carter didn't remember much, everything was just smears of colors. "Uh..." her voice faded off. "I don't know how it makes me feel."

"I want to ask you this question, if you would let me."

"What's that?" Carter asked, fingering the frayed spot on her pants.

"How is your relationship with your brother, Derek?"

Carter's fingers stopped their fumbling, her eyes moving away from her jeans to stare at the woman in front of her. Her eyes glazing over as the memories of her and Derek flashed in and out of her mind.

Morel glanced at her, Carter going back to picking at her nails. She would never admit it out loud, but Carter wanted to talk to him again, that's all she wanted. She wanted to hear his voice, to try and repair the damage that had been done between them, but they both had enough on their plates at the moment.

"Have you two talked since the other night?" Morrell pressed when she realized that Carter wasn't going to answer her previous question.

Carter shook her head slowly, "Derek and I don't talk much at all, anymore," She admitted sadly, feeling the back of her eyes pinch at the thought. "Things have gotten slightly - and I mean, slightly - better, but there's still something wrong between us. I don't know. It's just, like, tension when we talk. Same thing with Scott and Stiles." Her chest ached when the thought of them crossed her mind.

"Have you talked to them since that night?"

"No, not really," Carter mumbled, sadness settling in her chest, "I mean, Scott's got his own problems to deal with, though, and so does Stiles. I haven't talked to Allison, either. Then again, I don't think any of us have. But that might be more her choice, you know. Her mom dying hit her pretty hard. And I sympathize with her, completely. I know all too well what it feels like to lose a parent. But I guess it brought her and her dad closer." Carter paused, took a deep breath and continued: "Jackson? Jackson hasn't really been himself lately. Actually the funny thing is, as of right now, Lydia is the one who seems the most normal."

"And what about you, Carter? Feeling some anxiety?" Morrell questioned.

"How come you're not taking any notes on this?" Carter fired back.

"I do my notes after the session," Morrell replied, placing her hands in her lap.

"Your memory's that good?"

"How about we get back to you?" Morrell suggested, Carter's eyes fall to her lap. "Carter?" She called out quietly, Carter's eyes slowly moving toward her face.

"I'm fine," Carter replied smoothly, "Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible is about to happen."

"It's called hyper-vigilance, the persistent feeling of being under threat." Morrell explained.

"But it's not just a feeling, though," Carter almost laughed. "It's - It's like a panic attack. You know, like I can't even breathe." Carter thought back to when Victoria was trying to kill Scott, the pain Carter felt when she couldn't fill her lungs with oxygen. It was agonizing.

"Like you're drowning?" Morrell offered.

"Yeah," Carter nodded, not liking the analogy.

"So, if you're drowning, and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment, what if you chose to not open your mouth?" Morrell questioned, her eyes focused on Carter. "To not let the water in?"

"Well, you do anyway. It's a reflex."

"But if you hold off until that reflex kicks in, you have more time, right?"

"Not much time," Carter mumbled, running her hands over her face. She couldn't take much more of the drowning analogies. Her head was pounding.

"But more time to fight your way to the surface?"

"I guess," Carter said quickly.

"More time to be rescued."

"More time to be in agonizing pain," Carter almost shouted. "And did you forget about the part where you feel like your head's exploding?"

Morrell kept her eyes locked on Carter and stated: "If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it?"

Carter thought it over, and before she moved back to Beacon Hills she would've agreed, but everything was different. This wasn't just some simple pain, this wasn't just agony - this was a searing-white-hot pain that wouldn't go away no how much they let it heal. Carter felt like she was constantly burning, repeatedly being set on fire at every moment of every day. It wasn't just a little agony.

"And what if it just gets worse? What if it's agony now, and then...then it's just hell later on?"

"Then think about something Winston Churchill once said," Morrell began, ""If you're going through hell, keep going.""

But what if they didn't want to keep going, or to keep fighting?

***

Carter glanced between Melissa McCall and Sheriff Stilinski, for some reason, Carter had opted to sit right between the two adults on the bleachers and she was starting to regret it. Instead of including her in their conversation, they just talked over her.

Melissa had seemed to get over the initial shock of seeing her son turn into a beast with glowing eyes, but she was still a little wary about the entire situation.

She looked over to the benches were the players sat, and coincidentally, Scott and Stiles were perched upon the bench. Carter instantly knew why Scott wasn't on the field: he was failing too many classes.

Finstock approached the duo and fired up a conversation, after a few moments of conversing, Stiles sprung to his feet and ran onto the field his lacrosse stick and helmet in hand.

"Oh, no," Stilinski mumbled. "Why is my son running on the field?"

Melissa slowly turned to look at the Sheriff, a dark eyebrow arched slightly, "Because he's on the team?"

Realization quickly crossed Stilinski's face, "He is. He's on the team - he's on the field." He rose to his feet, and soon became a proud father as he shouted: "My son is on the field!"

Time quickly began to pass, but the scoreboard was stuck at zero and Carter could hardly pay attention to the game because she was too excited that Stiles had actually been given the opportunity to play.

He was all over the place, after being shoved and tripped, the ball magically landed in his net for the first time. The victory was short-lived when an opposing team member tackled him to the ground, ball soaring out of his net.

Melissa groaned at the sight, "He's probably just warming up," Carter nodded, watching as Lydia made her way up the bleachers and sat on the other side of Melissa.

Carter didn't even have time to greet Lydia before Stiles was tossed to the ground once again, this time, by three players. Carter ran her fingers through her dark hair, tugging at the ends. "Oh, he's just a little nervous. Plenty of time to turn it around."

Her attempt to comfort them had been proved futile, when Stiles reached out to catch a ball, but only missing, the ball smacking against his face-mask. Melissa closed her eyes to keep from seeing any more, the Sheriff put his head in his hands, and Carter slumped in her seat.

Carter's eyes drifted back over to the players' bench, seeing a new player stationed next to Scott on the bench. Isaac Lahey - number fourteen. She tilted her head, watching the werewolves' converse before Isaac got up from the bench, running onto the field.

Carter immediately knew what was going to happen when she saw Scott staring at the three other players on the bench, all replacements for when someone got injured. It wasn't going to end well.

And she was right.

As soon as the whistle had been blown, Isaac slammed his body against one of his own teammates, sending him to the ground. Carter cringed, groans erupting from the crowd. He continued taking out his own teammates until he did it to three more players.

"Lahey!" Finstock's voice sounded, pointing at the curly haired boy on the field. "Seriously, what the hell is your problem?"

Isaac was suddenly tackled to the ground, no longer being able to move. Carter immediately tensed, frantically searching the field for who had hurt him. Jackson was standing there, pulling off his helmet so that his face was revealed. That's when she caught sight of a familiar figure off to the side of the field. Gerard. He stood there with a smirk on his face, his eyes focused on Carter. The way he looked at her made her feel as though she was the prey and he was the predator.

Melissa also noticed that something else had been going on, she rushed toward Scott, who had just been called into the game. A familiar and unwelcoming feeling settled upon Carter. She began to fumble with her fingers when they started to tingle, squeezed her eyes shut when the pounding of her head became too severe, rolled her shoulders and stretched her back when the stabbing feeling in her spine spiked, removed her jacket when the heat-waves flared up. Being engulfed with the fabric of her jacket became confining and suffocating, her temperature sky-rocketing.

Someone was going to die tonight. Someone was going to get hurt. She could feel it.

Carter had finally put the pieces together on what all of those feelings meant - they were warnings. Her body was literally warning her before something serious or life-threatening was about to happen.

When the game resumed, Scott was immediately thrown to the ground, the ball falling out of his net to the grass and rolling directly to the one person everyone was hoping wouldn't get it. Stiles scooped up the ball, and just like the other times, he was shoved down to the ground.

The clock was winding down, five minutes left in the game. It took Carter all of six seconds to realize that Scott was no longer on the field. Finstock seeming to notice the same time as Carter, "McCall?" he called out. "Where's McCall?"

Everyone out on the field stumbled around looking desperately for the ball that seemingly disappeared. Carter's eyes danced around, searching, trying to find it before the players did. The ball was just simply lying there right next to Stiles' left foot.

Carter watched as Stiles slowly picked it up, dust picking up as she started to shuffle backwards. Carter was bouncing in her seat. He was so close. The rest of the players on the field finally saw that Stiles had the ball, and came barreling forward.

Stiles hesitated when he approached goal. Everyone was shouting, ordering Stiles to shoot the ball into the goal. The opposing players were zeroing in on him, and he nearly dropped it until he heard two voices scream out at the same time: "Shoot it!" he took a small glance toward Carter and Lydia, both girls on their feet, their arms outstretched as they stared at him. That was all he needed.

The ball soared into the goal and scoring their team the point - it was a roar after that. Everyone jumped to their feet, screaming in victory. Lydia and Carter screamed, jumping up and down as they cheered on the player. Stiles was on a roll after that; scoring another goal, tying the score. Then another goal, and another. They were winning.

The clock was counting down the final seconds: ten, nine, eight, seven, six, and somehow Carter knew, that when the time diminished someone would be dead. Everyone was too busy celebrating when the referee blew the final whistle, Beacon Hills High had won. While people cheered, Scott and Carter grew more confused as to why nothing had happened yet.

But when the field's lights started to flicker off, one by one, it happened.

A single ear piercing scream ripped through the still air, a scream so intense that Scott had to clamp his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut. When his eyes reopened, they were a bright gold.

Carter.

The pain she was feeling wasn't like anything she had ever felt before in her life time's ten. It had been nothing like when Derek slashed Scott's stomach, or when Gerard stabbed Scott, or even last week when Scott had been shot. Absolutely nothing could ever compare to the degree of pain she felt. If someone had cut off her arms and legs, took that pain and multiplied it by twelve, they probably still wouldn't even scratch the surface.

Carter felt as though her soul was being sliced into pieces. Like someone was torturing her from the inside out.

Dying a slow and painful death, fire engulfed her entire being. Hot and thick lava flowed through her veins, blood rushing to her skull. Carter never even stopped to wonder what it would feel like to be linked to someone when they died. Now, she was glad she hadn't even thought about. But she knew deep down that's what that pain had meant.

A person could only endure so much pain and agony before their mind shut down, Carter didn't know if she had reached that point, but her mind clouded. Only one clear through crossed her mind - she grew terrified as to who had just died.

Erica?

Boyd?

Sheriff?

Melissa?

Allison?

Lydia?

Isaac?

Or the three people she couldn't even fathom to lose.

Stiles, the skinny, pale, and awkward boy she was assigned to sit next to in Chemistry. The boy who had become the friend she had always wanted. He was sarcastic, funny, spastic, awkward, and intelligent.

Derek, the buff, stubborn, and protective older brother she knew better than she even knew herself. They were complete opposites, but still managed to be the exact same. He got under her skin and irritated her - she hated him, but loved him just as much. He was gruff, possessive, loyal, caring, prideful, and family.

Scott, the tan-skinned boy that managed to weasel his way into her heart, but when she thought about it, she hadn't minded. He was so kind-hearted it made her sick, but she appreciated it. He was shoved into the world of the supernatural, but still seemed to find the good in it. He was loving, strong, protective, strong-willed, and loyal.

Would she feel all of their deaths when they passed?

Carter's legs felt like jelly as she ran, every stride tearing her more and more, she pushed her way through the group of people just in time for Lydia to scream. Tears instantly streamed down Carter's face as she kneeled next to Melissa, and next to Jackson.

Melissa pressed her ear to Jackson's chest. "He's not breathing. No pulse,"

When she pulled his jersey back, everyone took a step backward when they saw that Jackson's undershirt was drenched in blood. Carter instinctively looked down, noticing the same amount of blood was on her shirt, but she didn't feel his pain any more.

Carter let out a loud sob when the realization hit her lit a semi.

Jackson Whittemore was dead.

Carter quickly flailed to her feet and stumbled back, her arms cradling her stomach, hiding the blood. She whirled around frantically and began shouting out: "Scott?" her voice cracked, "Scott?"

Soon, a pair of arms wrapped around her waist, the suddenness of their presence caused Carter to scream. Scott moved his hands to her arms, desperately trying to keep her still. "Carter, are you okay?"

She stared at him with blurry vision, hot tears rolling down her cheeks, opening her mouth she let out another sob. "I felt...I felt him...Jackson...I felt him die, Scott."

"Where the hell is my son?"

Panic settled in Carter's chest when she heard the Sheriff frantically calling out for his son.