𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚-𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 | 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽𝔂'𝓼 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻

𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘈𝘵 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘧'𝘴 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

STILES STILINSKI LEANS HIS HEAD out of his window and rolls his eyes at the girl standing merely metres away, eyes glued to her phone. "Charles!" he yells impatiently.

Charlotte's head snaps up at his voice and she quickly pockets the device into the jacket over her dress after typing her reply to Chris Argent. "Christ, I'm coming!" She leans against the door and peers inside to look at the two boys inside. "So, what's the plan here?"

"It's Matt," Scott says, eyes wide and still in shock. "I saw him standing with Jackson- the Kanima."

"I knew it!" she exclaims with a grin. Her smile quickly slips off her face. "I mean..." Charlotte clears her throat and dons a serious demeanour as she deepens her voice. "I knew it."

Stiles chuckles. "We knew it," he mimics her voice. He clears his throat. "So the 'plan' is to try and convince my dad to take us to the station to find evidence to actually prove Matt's guilty."

Scott nods, then his eyes land on the blonde. "Why's your heart beating so quickly?" he asks in confusion.

"Nothing," she quickly replies. "Just worried that Deaton will be annoyed that I've probably made him keep the clinic open."

Stiles' eyebrows furrow. "And, uh, why are you seeing Deaton at almost midnight?"

When Charlotte looks to him, Scott shrugs. "Sorry, was too distracted by the psychopathic killers murderously glaring at me to fill him in."

She clicks her tongue. "Fair enough. The other day, after I came round to your house, I called Deaton and filled him in about the hallucinations and stuff. Scott said it would probably be a better idea to go tonight instead of tomorrow, like I planned. Which was what I was doing, but the drowning teenager in my pool decided that I should stay."

Stiles nods. "Ah."

"Look, I'll meet you guys there, I'll take my car."

Currently, her plan is to follow the boys to the Stilinski residence and depart in the opposite direction when they leave for the station. After seeing Chris Argent's message, she had replied and said to give her half an hour at most. Because to her, Allison's mental health is far more important than Matt Daehler and a giant lizard.

»»———-　　———-««

Staring at the photograph of Matt in the most recent yearbook, a large red circle around his face, Noah Stilinski raises his brows at the three teenagers. "So, this kid's the real killer?" he questions sceptically.

"Yeah."

"No."

Stiles blinks at him. "Yes!"

"No."

"Dad, come on!" He quickly jumps up from his chair to meet his father at eye level. "Everybody knows that the police look for ways to connect victims in a murder, okay?" Noah narrows his eyes. " So all you have to do is, like, look through their transcripts and figure out which class they all had in common!"

Scott and Charlotte share a look as they watch their best friend persistently argue with his father, who by the looks of it, isn't believing a word that is coming out of his mouth. "Yeah. Except for the fact that the rave promoter, Kara, wasn't in Harris' class," he points out.

"All right, okay, you're right, sorry." Stiles holds up a hand in apology. "Then I guess they dropped the charges against him?" Charlotte grins.

Clenching his jaw in frustration, the Sheriff sighs. "No, you know what? They're not dropping the charges against him." Her eyes widen and she bumps Stiles' outstretched fist. "But that doesn't prove anything."

"H-"

"Scott, do you believe this?"

Charlotte stifles her laughter at Stiles' face of offence. "Oh, for fuck's sake," the boy mutters to himself.

"It's really hard to explain how we know this but you just gotta trust us," Scott tells the man. "We know it's Matt."

She nods. "Look, Sheriff, he's the one that took Harris' car. He knew that if a cop found the tire tracks at one of the murders, it would be game over."

"Dad, if Matt murdered enough victims from Harris' class, it would give enough evidence to arrest him," Stiles adds.

"All right! Fine. I'll allow the remote possibility." The teens all share a sigh of relief. "But give me a motive! I mean, why would this kid want most of the two-thousand and six swim team and its coach dead?"

"Seriously?" Charlotte questions sarcastically. "Have you seen our swim team?" Stilinski rolls his eyes.

"Exactly!" Stiles exclaims. "They suck! It's been, like, six years since they last won anything."

The girl frowns. "And how strange is that since Jackson's team captain..." She tilts her head and smiles. "God, what a gorgeous train wreck that is."

The youngest Stilinski sighs in defeat at the look on his father's face and throws his hands up. "Okay, we don't have a motive yet," he confesses. "I mean, come on, does Harris?"

"All right," Noah says after a beat. His eyes flick between the three. "What do you want me to do?"

A moment of silence passes until Charlotte realises that he's has finally given in. "Oh! Right. We need to look at the evidence," she says.

"Yeah, that would be in the station. Where I no longer work," the man points out, slightly irritated.

"Trust me, they'll let you in."

Pushing a finger onto his son's chest, Stilinski narrows his eyes. "Trust you?" he repeats incredulously.

Stiles purses his lips. "Trust... uh, trust, Charlie?"

"No."

Her head snaps over to Noah, her eyes wide in disbelief. She picks her jaw up off the floor to exclaim, "Wait, what?"

Stiles grimaces. "Trust... Scott?"

"Scott I trust."

After the adult leaves and the door clicks shut, Charlotte loudly groans and lands face first onto Stiles' mattress. "I can't believe he said he doesn't trust me!" she complains, her voice slightly muffled.

The werewolf rolls his eyes. "That's what you got out of the whole conversation?"

"It was the most important part!"

"I second that!"

Scott chuckles and taps his fingers against the door frame. "Okay, let's go."

"Not me," she says. Charlotte sits up on the bed and clears her throat. "I have a brief detour to make."

Stiles' eyebrows raise as he folds his arms over his chest. "Where could you possibly have to go in the midst of a murder investigation?" he asks in disbelief.

She racks her brain, trying to think of an answer that could satisfy them. She didn't think that Allison would want them to know yet. Allison hadn't even told Charlotte herself. "Home," she says. "Mom's probably pissed after, you know, getting home to find the cops there, place trashed, and neither Lydia and I in sight." Actually, that's most likely exactly what is happening right now.

"Have fun with that," Stiles muses.

She scoffs. "Why are we friends?"

»»———-　　———-««

Standing outside the front door of the Argents' house, Charlotte takes multiple deep breaths as she tries to ready herself for what she might find when she walks inside. After a few further seconds, her knuckles wrap against the wood. Just as she expects, Chris answers a solemn expression. "I am so, so sorry," she rushes out.

He gives her a weak smile. "Me too. Thanks for coming Charlotte."

"Of course." He steps aside so she can enter and she looks around for any sign of her best friend. "What can I do?"

The man swallows thickly. "I'm not sure how I'm going to get her through this. I-I... She's most likely going to try and push you away, but please don't let her. She needs someone to help her, someone that's not family."

Carefully treading around the subject, she voices her question. "C-can I ask how it happened?"

"A werewolf bite." Charlotte's eyes wide in shock. "One can't complete the transition, it's part of the hunter's code," Chris explains quietly. "But to everyone else, we're calling it a suicide. That's what we've told Allison." A tear rolls down his cheek and he clears his throat. "Uh, she's upstairs."

A sad smile pulls at her lips. "I didn't know her too well, but I really am sorry." And she is. Sure, none of the Argents are perfect, especially from what she's heard from Scott and Derek, however, she wishes no one to ever lose a mother. She's not so sorry for Victoria per-say, but she's heartbroken for Allison.

Nodding, Chris leaves her to make her way upstairs. Although just before she can knock on Allison's door, it opens and she's met with the cold face of Gerard. His eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly regains his composure. "Charlotte. What are you doing here?"

Her heart beats a little faster than before she had met his eyes. And wanting to make the conversation as short as she possibly can, she answers with, "Chris messaged me. I'm sorry to hear."

"It was a necessary evil."

She blinks at him in surprise. What the fuck? Bringing her attention back to why she is here, Charlotte cautiously enters Allison's bedroom, unsure of what to expect. The brunette is sitting on her bed, crossed legged. Even when footsteps tread on the floorboards, her focus remains on reading a note in her hands. Charlotte sits down on the other side of the bed, making sure to give her friend enough space. "Alli?" she softly calls out.

Allison wipes her tears away and her face remains emotionally stoic as she meets the girl's concerned eyes. The note is folded and tucked under one of her pillows. "What are you doing here?"

Deciding that she probably doesn't want to hear anymore apologies, Charlotte opts for a different direction. "Right now, I'm here for anything you need and want." She gives her a small smile. "Whether that's to cry, yell, shoot a gun or an arrow at something... Whatever you need, I'm here."

Allison nods but it's not long before her shoulders begin to shake, and an uncontrollable, raw sob wracks through her body. "Sh-she's gone," she whispers. Her eyes widen and she clasps a hand over her mouth in horror as it finally sets in. "Oh, my God. She's really gone." Charlotte shuts her eyes to will away the tears and shuffles herself closer. But Allison ignores her friend's hesitation to offer a hug and initiates the embrace herself. Regaining herself after the sudden weight being thrown onto her, Charlotte soothingly rubs the girl's back as tears soak her grey sweatshirt. "I-I can't believe she- she's gone," Allison stutters out, pausing occasionally to hiccup.

Listening to her best friend hysterically cry, a few tears of her slip out of her eyes. "Me either, baby. But you know what? I'm gonna be here with you, okay?" Charlotte squeezes her tighter as if the physical action resembles her words. "I'm not going anywhere."

It takes a minute before she gains control of her tears and she takes a deep breath, tightly holding onto Charlotte's hands as she looks her in the eyes. "You know how you said you're gonna be here for anything I need?"

"Yeah?"

Allison clears her throat. "And you promise you'll support me no matter what?"

Charlotte's eyebrows draw together in confusion, not understanding where this could possibly go. "Of course," she confirms.

The girl's lips purse into a straight line and her friend almost flinches once she sees the flames of anger in Allison's usual striking, chocolate eyes. "I want Derek dead," she spits out.

"Wait, what?"

"Derek Hale killed my mother," Allison says. "I want him dead."

How calmly she speaks sends a shiver down Charlotte's spine. Well she definitely knows the truth now.And Charlotte wouldn't be surprised if Gerard was the one to tell her. Derek must've been the one to bite Victoria.Whether it was by accident or not... that's another question for later. The longer Allison talks about the werewolf, the brighter her eyes burn. And Charlotte has a feeling that whateverGerard had said before she walked in only resulted in further gasoline being thrown into the fire.

»»———-　　———-««

After being told that she needs time alone, Charlotte reluctantly leaves Allison at home. She sits in her car, her head leaning on the steering wheel as she tries to choose what to do next. There are three things: Attempt to calm her most likely very pissed off mother, go to the Sheriff's station to help Stiles and Scott, or to attend her overdue meeting with Deaton. She decides the former number on her list can wait till last. Scott and Stiles are more than capable of sorting through evidence on their own with the Sheriff, so the last thing to do is meet with the veterinarian.

Deciding that the polite thing to do is to call the clinic instead of barging in, she dials the number and waits for the line to be picked up. "Hello?"

Charlotte frowns at the noticeable exhaustion in Deaton's voice. "It's me, Doc," she says. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm all right. Everything else though... I have to say otherwise."

"Uh, I'm sorry. Something happened at the party on my way out and I got held back, and Allison's mom just died... I'm coming down now-"

"No, I'm sorry," he interrupts. "Now isn't the best time. I'm not there."

She narrows her eyes as she plays with a hair tie on her wrist. "But this is the clinic's number..."

"I have it connected to my personal mobile as well. Due to the circumstances, I would usually say that you're more than welcome to drop in at this time of night, however, I'm currently out dealing with some- Derek, hold on."

"Derek?" she questions in confusion. "Deaton, what's going on?"

"Charlotte, I'll have to call you back tomorrow. How about you drop by first thing in the morning?"

Her frown deepens but despite the urges to push him for answers she answers with, "No worries. Good luck with whatever's going on." The line disconnects without a reply and she stares at the screen. "Huh." Closing her eyes, she leans back into the headrest and breathes deeply through her nose. Glancing at her now vibrating phone, she sighs at the contact name. "This is the Beacon Hills Supernatural Hotline, how can I assist you tonight?"

Scott's laughter fills the speaker and she grins at Stiles' scoff. "Can we please be serious for a few hours? Is that so much to ask for?" When Charlotte falls silent, he clicks his tongue. "Fantastic. So, we have a problem."

She hums. "And here I thought that you and the puppy were more than capable of assisting your dad on finding evidence without needing me."

"We definitely are. And we did. We've got something."

Her brows raise and she starts the car up again, placing the call on speaker phone. "Like, actual living proof that he's the killer?"

"He left shoe prints in the hospital the other night," Scott says. "My mom saw him... Without realising it was Matt."

"Okay?"

"Mud! It had mud- There's enough evidence that points Matt as the killer. Well, there will be if Melissa can get here," Stiles explains quickly.

"Got it, I'm on my way." Charlotte hangs up the phone and grimaces as the water pounds louder into her skull. She turns the volume dial to the radio further up to block the noise out, however, it doesn't aid her much. The sound hasn't stopped all night. As she pulls up outside the Beacon County Sheriff's Station, she parks her car next to the blue Jeep. The girl heaves a sigh and throws back a few ibuprofen, praying that her migraine will disappear. As soon as she gets out the vehicle she pauses at the voice that reaches her ears,

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

She groans in annoyance as Derek leans on the door of her car. "What the fuck am I doing here? What the fuck are you doing here?" she snaps. His jaw clenches. "Admitting you're guilty for attempting murder? On me? You attempted murder on me!" she shrieks in anger.

The man grimaces. "Look, I'm really sorry for what happened. It was a mistake."

Charlotte laughs dryly. "A mistake? Look, Derek, I honestly don't have the energy to be pissed off at any of you anymore. It's draining. But if you ever, ever, try something like that again, I will personally make sure that you end up six feet underground." The corners of his lips upturn and she scoffs.  "No, no, this isn't funny. I'm serious."

"I know."

She rolls her eyes. "So what are you doing here?"

"Scott called me," he replies simply.

"Scott called you? Huh, he is maturing... What-" Charlotte's eyes widen as the werewolf moves to open the entrance doors. "Look out!" she warns.

Derek's head snaps over to where she is looking but his body goes rigid when Jackson, half transformed into the Kanima, appears out of nowhere and swipes him on the back of the neck. "Crap," he mutters.

As his body begins to paralyse, Jackson holds the Alpha up, stopping him from crashing onto the floor. As he turns to Charlotte, flashing his yellow eyes, she gulps and holds her hands up. "No need. Um, whatever you want."

Following Jackson's line of sight to the door, she nods and opens it from the side to be met with Scott and Stiles, the former's eyes widening at the sight of Derek. "Oh, thank God," Stiles exclaims in relief. Still hidden from behind Derek, Jackson pushes him forward and finally lets him fall onto the floor. "Shit."

Both boys look to their side and their hearts almost stop beating. "Charles, what are you doing here?" Scott asks her nervously.

"You called me!" she exclaims. "What the- okay! I'm moving!" She walks further into the room with Jackson following close behind, claws out and ready to harm her if needed. Once Charlotte spots Matt around the corner, her mouth falls open. "Holy shit." She whips around to her friends. "He's here? Why did you call me? Why am I here? Do you want me to di-"

The sound of the safety switch on a gun being flicked echoes through the room and all three teenagers freeze. The girl's head slowly turns back to Matt whose smirk has been replaced by a face of pure rage. "Shut up," he seethes. The firearm is raised into the air and the barrel hovers a few centimetres in front of Charlotte. Scott's eyes widen and he grabs onto one of her hands, protectively pulling her behind him.

Matt crouches next to Derek whose eyes follow the boy's every movement. "This is the one controlling him?" he grumbles out in disbelief. "This kid?"

Still clutching onto Scott's hand, a sheen of sweat coats her forehead, partly from the anxiety and partly from the headache that has somehow only increased since she took the anti-inflammatory.

"Well Derek, not everyone's lucky enough to be a big, bad werewolf. Oh yeah, that's right!" Matt stands up and turns to the trio crowded together. "I've learnt a few things lately. Werewolves, hunters, Kanimas... It's like a fucking Halloween party every full moon."

Charlotte clenches her unoccupied fist and glares at him. "So then you'd be smart enough to know that I'm going to kill you after all this."

He chuckles, but his laughter only increases the tension. "Man, you're really starting to get on my nerves," he says in a low voice. Scott's grip on her hand tightens and she catches the warning look he sends her to not say anything further. "But you two..." Matt points to herself and Stiles as he asks, "What do you turn into?"

"Abominable snowman," Stiles deadpans. "But, uh, it's more of a winter time thing, you know? Seasonal."

Charlotte's lips twitch into a small smile. However, when Jackson darts forward and nicks the back of the Stilinski's, her face falls in alarm. Both Scott and Charlotte instinctively jump forward wanting to help him, only for Jackson to hold a clawed hand up and wave his finger at them in warning. "You bitch!" Stiles cries out.

As the boy falls directly on top of Derek, the werewolf growls under his breath. "Get him off of me," he speaks through gritted teeth.

Glancing one final time in Charlotte's direction, Matt sighs and squats down beside them. "I don't know, Derek... I think you two make a pretty good pair! It must kind of suck though, to have all that power taken away from you with just a little cut to the back of the neck. I bet you're not used to feeling this helpless."

"Still got some teeth. Why don't you get down here a little closer, huh? We'll see how helpless I am."

His face still on Derek's chest, Stiles wheezily exclaims, "Yeah, bitch!"

Matt smiles and turns back to the girl. "And what about you?"

"What about m- Oh! I'm a unicorn. Surprised you didn't know. It's pretty obvious with all the sparkles and rainbows."

His smile only widens as he nudges his head toward her and Jackson strides forward to wrap his arm around her neck. With oxygen quickly cut off from her airways, Charlotte's eyes widen and she grasps at Jackson's hand, frantically trying to pry it off her skin. Chaos erupts throughout the room, both of her best friends pleading out for Matt to order Jackson to let her go. "Matt, come on!" Scott yells desperately. "I'll do whatever you want!"

But she feels the grip tighten around her throat and dark spots begin to appear in her vision. As Charlotte gasps for air, headlights suddenly illuminate one of the back walls, the source beaming in from one of the windows adjacent to the department's parking lot. At the slight gesture of Matt's head, Jackson's grasp on her loosens, yet he still keeps a firm hold around her. Charlotte breathes heavily as she catches her breath, but her blood runs cold at the question Matt presents next. "Is that your mom?" Scott tenses. "Do what I tell you to, and I won't hurt her. I won't even let Jackson near her."

"Scott, don't trust him!"

At Stiles' words, Matt moves forward and flips the boy's body around so he can place his foot tightly against his throat. "This work better for ya?" he counters, his tone almost playful.

Charlotte's eyes widen in fear as she watches her best friend gasp for air just as she had been doing seconds ago. What worries her most is that Matt doesn't seem like he would hesitate to kill any of them. Scott seems to understand the same as he frantically nods and holds his hands out. "Hold on," he calls out. "Matt! Just wait! We'll do whatever you want."

"Then do what I tell you to do!"

"Okay, just stop! Stop!"

Matt finally takes his foot away and the boy on the floor takes a large gasp of air. But the one holding the gun turns to look at each person in the room, his eyes stopping when he reaches Jackson. "You, take them in there," he orders. Matt narrows his eyes at Charlotte and Scott. "You two, with me."

Following him further down the hallway, Charlotte's eyes brim with tears as she clutches tightly onto Scott's hand. He squeezes it comfortingly and casts a glance to her. "It'll be okay," he whispers, trying to reassure her, and himself, as much as he can.

She nods. "Yeah. Yep."

Then the entrance doors to the station open and Scott and Charlotte's hearts stop beating. "Mom?" the werewolf calls out.

Melissa sighs at her son's voice. "You scared me, where is every-" She stops herself when her eyes find the three figures before her.

Charlotte's eyes widen pleadingly as she tries to ignore the gun behind her in Matt's hand, shifting between aiming at herself and Scott. "Mel, just do whatever he says," she begs the woman. 

"Mom, he promised he wouldn't hurt you," Scott adds, trying to keep his voice level and calm.

Matt raises his eyebrows and nods. "He's right."

Then the shot from the gun momentarily renders Charlotte deaf as she spins around, trying to find who's been hit. When the ringing in her ears clears, she can hear Melissa's screams and Noah Stilinski's panicked yells from the holding cells. "Stiles? Scott? Charlotte? What happened?"

The girl's eyes slowly move down to her stomach when she feels it start to burn, like someone has shoved a hot poker against her skin. Her lips part as she watches the distinguishable colour of blood seep through the material of her sweatshirt. Scott flinches to race to her side, only to stop in his tracks when the gun is reloaded, Matt pointing it at him to stop him from assisting her. "C-Charles," he calls out to her, tears watering in his eyes. "Just hang on, okay?"

In horror, Melissa covers her mouth with shaking hands. "Charlotte, honey, put pressure on it. Take a deep breath, you're going to be alright."

Charlotte's hands shake over her stomach, and then the initial adrenaline starts to wear off. It feels like someone's hit her with a truck. She stumbles back a step and her back meets the nearest wall, helping her to slide down onto the floor in a dazed like state. Matt kisses his teeth, the firearm in his grip not wavering in the air. "I didn't say I wouldn't hurt one of you," he points out. His eyes narrow as they return to the dying girl's face. "And for some reason, Charlotte, you can't be paralysed." He smiles. "I just needed to get you out the way!"

"Lottie," Scott says desperately. "Hey, look at me!" Her blue eyes slowly lock onto his and a tear rolls down her cheek.

"McCall, get up," Matt demands.

She can see the raw terror in Scott's irises and she's just as scared. She blindly clutches onto her side like Melissa had told her too, and loudly moans out in pain as the burning reaches another level of intensity. But she doesn't remove the pressure. Gritting her teeth together, Charlotte looks back up to her best friend. "Scott, go," she mutters. "Derek can help me when the venom wears off." Then everything begins to blur around her. The only thing she can feel is the agony. She lifts her trembling hands away from the bullet wound to find her palms already painted a deep crimson and rests her head back against the wall, a shaky sigh leaving her lips.

"Matt? Matt, listen to me-"

At the Sheriff's yells, Matt's eyes screw shut and the gun in his grasp starts to shake. "Shu-shut-shut up! Everybody shut up! McCall, get up." The muzzle moves to point at Melissa. "Or I shoot her next."

Watching the hazy figures of the McCalls and Matt walk off, naturally Charlotte finds herself feeling immensely frustrated as Jackson appears in front of her. "Dude, can you just let me die in peace? Please?" His eyes flash to the Kanima's yellow ones and suddenly lifts her up from under the armpits. A shrill cry leaves the girl's mouth as the pain tears through her body like someone's sliced her stomach open with a sharp knife.

But to her surprise, Jackson makes sure to be careful as he guides her to the room holding Stiles and Derek inside. At their entrance, Stiles' eyes flick over to Charlotte's limp body in Jackson's arms and they widen in horror. "Charles?" he calls out. "Oh God, are you okay?"

She manages to weakly smile. "Just peachy." As Jackson drops her onto the ground beside the two paralysed, she barely hears the second gun shot in the distance, the noise sounding muffled like someone's placed headphones over her ears.

"Scott," Derek mutters.

"You know what?" Charlotte begins. She groans as she presses her hands firmly against the wound. "Fuck. A good apology would be getting rid of your venom and getting me to a damn hospital," she tells the Alpha.

"I'm trying!" Derek exclaims in frustration.

Further tears streak her paled cheeks, and the pain isn't just in her stomach anymore. It's spreading across her entire body like a wildfire. Her hair and face is coated in a cold sweat, and her hands haven't stopped trembling. "Fuck, this hurts like a bitch," she mumbles tiredly.

Derek can just see her out the corner of his eyes from his position on the floor. "Just hold on, okay?"

"Who knew you actually cared."

"Oh, my God! Charlotte, shut up!"

"Don't tell me to shut up! You need t-"

"Both of you shut up!" Stiles rolls his eyes and tries to start a conversation with the intentions of distracting the girl, and Derek before he pushes her over the edge. "Do we have any ideas of what's happening to Matt?"

"Well, we definitely now know he's insane!" Charlotte quietly laughs and immediately regrets it as she ends up coughing.

Derek's eyes are full of concern but he sighs. "The book isn't going to help him, not like this. Universe balances things out. Always does."

Charlotte sucks in a deep breath. "Stiles, he's right. Everything has a consequence. H-he's using Jackson to kill people who don't deserve it."

"And killing people himself," Derek adds.

"So if Matt breaks the rules of the Kanima... he becomes the Kanima?" Stiles slowly concludes.

"Balance."

"Well that's fucked," Charlotte says. "What are the chances that he'll believe us if we tell him that?"

"Zero to none."

Stiles grimaces. "You couldn't have sugar coated it?"

"Nope."

"Of course. He's gonna kill all of us when he gets that book, isn't he?"

"Yep."

Charlotte tries to contain her sob by harshly biting onto her lip as she tries to sit up straighter against the wall, but the two on the floor share a look (as best as they can), realising that her injury is much more dire than they initially thought. "What's the plan now?" Stiles questions. "Do we just sit here and wait to die?"

"The plan is for Derek to heal and get me the fuck out of here before I do die!"

"I need to figure out a way to push the toxin out of my body faster, like triggering the healing process," Derek says in thought.

"Claws," Charlotte suddenly states.

Looking down, Stilesraises his brows and immediately looks away in disgust once he spots Derek'sclaws digging into his thigh. "Aw, gross," he murmurs.

»»———-　　———-««

Blinking rapidly to try and keep herself awake, Charlotte tries to count the different items she can see in the room. Now it feels like someone's holding a lighter directly onto her skin. The nausea had hit five minutes ago. "God, I feel so dizzy," she murmurs, shaking her head a few times.

Stiles' eyes widen. "No, no, Lottie, you gotta stay awake," he says firmly.

"Uh huh," she replies faintly.

Stiles clears his throat. "So is that hypothetical situation we talked about getting any less hypothetical?" he asks Derek.

"I think so... I can move my toes."

At the werewolf's answer, Stiles sighs in exasperation. "Dude, I can move my toes."

"And so can I!" Charlotte snaps. "Can we please get the fuck out of here?"

"I'm trying!" Derek hisses.

"Well, try harder!"

"Shut up!"

"No, you shut up!"

"Charlotte, I swear to God-"

To both of their disappointment, the bickering is quickly abandoned when the main lights cut off and a shrill siren wails through the station. They hear Matt yelling in the distance, himself and Scott probably just as confused as she currently is. "Derek, what's going on?" she whispers. Just as the Hale goes to respond, bullets shattering through glass deafens their ears, coming from the direction that Scott and Matt had disappeared to. Charlotte's eyes widen in alarm and beads of sweat continue to drip down her forehead to mix with the blood coating majority of her top. "I am not getting shot again."

Suddenly, Scott bursts into the room, colliding into Jackson during the process and throwing him to the side before running straight to the two recovering from their paralysis. Derek, who can finally move nods to Stiles. "Take him!" he speaks urgently. "Go!"

The younger werewolf wraps his arms around his best friend and lifts him off the floor, but his head snaps to the side at the quiet moan. "Charles?" he asks in alarm.

Derek rushes over to her and wraps one arm gently around her waist and the other over her shoulders to help her up. "I've got her," he tells the boys. "Go!"

Scott curtly nods and limps Stiles out of the room. Charlotte shuts her eyes, trying to dull the pain. "Why haven't I passed out yet?" she mumbles to herself.

After getting a nod for confirmation, Derek gently lifts up her shirt to take a look at the bullet wound. A small sigh of relief leaves his mouth. "Somehow you've managed to keep the blood loss to a minimum, so that's a good sign," he says.

"Good sign?" she repeats incredulously. "I have a bullet in me! That isn't a 'good sign!'"

"Doesn't matter, we need to get you out of there." After counting to three, she leans majority of her body weight onto Derek who supports her as they try to slowly make their way to the one of the exits. The sirens silently flash, the amber light casting the shadows of their figures onto the walls. Her eyes dart around the room, anticipating one of the multiple sources of danger to come around the corner. As they take step after step, Charlotte finally holds a hand up and leans against the wall, panting for breath. Derek quickly stops, his brows drawn together in worry. "Are you okay?"

"I was shot, you fucking idiot!" she snaps. If she makes it out alive, she'll apologise for the anger. Although maybe he deserves it after trying to kill her and her sister. "Of course I'm not okay," she says, a little more calmly. Then a loud roar booms in the distance and Derek's eyes flash scarlet. "Scott," Charlotte realises.

"He'll be okay, I need to get you out of here before you die," the man says.

Weakly chuckling, it ends up in a cough, and drops of blood splutter from her lips. Derek's eyes widen. "I knew you cared about me," she comments with a smile, a few of her teeth stained red. With the water still crashing in waves within her head, her stomach feeling as if someone had set fire to it, and feeling as if she is about to collapse at any given point, Charlotte leans into his body as they stumble through the station. But when Derek stops them beside a door, she quietly asks, "What's going on?"

He holds a finger to his lips. "Gerard," he mutters.

Sure enough, Gerard Argent is around the corner from them and in the midst of a conversation with someone. "Trust me I'm aware of that."

"I've done everything that you've asked of me!" Charlotte locks eyes with Derek in shock who is just as unprepared for the second voice as she is. "I'm part of Derek's pack, I've given you all the information that you wanted, I told you Matt was controlling Jackson..."

Scott.

"Then leave him to us. Help your friends. Leave Matt and Jackson to me. Deal with your mother. Go!"

Trying to ignore Derek's now very tense body language and the scowl painted back onto his face, she focuses on the footsteps. Once they dissipate into the distance, Charlotte grips onto his arm in a bone-like grip as they limp their way across the parking lot and to his car. Once she is in the passenger seat, Derek's eyes widen once more as he notices her breathing is considerably slower than a few minutes ago. "Hey, Charlie?" he asks in alarm. And he knows things have turned sideways extremely quickly because she doesn't point out how he had used her nickname.

"I'm alive."

With a sigh of relief, Derek gets into the driver's seat, and the car lurches forward as it speeds toward the hospital. "I need you to stay awake for me, okay? You're not dying on me," he says firmly.

Charlotte leans her head against the window, and another burst of coughing causes further blood to trickle down her chin. "I'm trying."

The car flies around a corner and he glances at her apologetically. However, his foot presses firmly on the gas pedal when he looks back at her to find her eyes are closed. "Charlotte?" When he receives no response, Derek strains his hearing and realises that her heart is dangerously slow, her breathing wheezy. "Shit," he mutters. Skidding to a stop in front of the hospital, he picks the girl up and runs into the emergency department, droplets of dark blood splattering onto the tiled white floor. "Help! Somebody help me!"

𝘥𝘶𝘯 𝘥𝘶𝘯 𝘋𝘜𝘕𝘕𝘕𝘕