derek hale

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derek hale

Alycia sits at her desk in the hospital, eyes fixed on the computer screen as she reviews brain scan data for a new study. The room is quiet, save for the gentle hum of machines and the occasional tap of her fingers on the keyboard. She's part of a research team studying neuroplasticity—the brain's ability to change and adapt after injury. It's fascinating work, and she's been obsessed with it ever since she started, balancing it with her student life and home responsibilities.

Today, they're analyzing a case of a stroke patient, looking at how specific exercises and brain stimulation might help them regain lost function. Alycia leans closer to the screen, eyes scanning the colored images of the brain, trying to pinpoint the areas most affected. This data is crucial for the next phase of their experiment, and she's so deep in concentration that the world outside her lab fades away.

"Ms. McCall?"

Alycia glances up, nodding at the nurse who's quietly slipped into the room to drop off some patient reports. She gives a small smile, then returns her focus to the study. The brain, she thinks, is like a puzzle—complex and intricate, each piece of data telling its own story. The human mind's capacity to heal amazes her, and she feels lucky to be a part of something that could help people in such a meaningful way.

Suddenly, a sharp knock echoes through the quiet lab, breaking her concentration. She frowns slightly. It's unusual for anyone to interrupt her when she's working on something so sensitive. She pulls off her glasses and turns toward the door.

The knock comes again, more urgent this time.

"Just a second," she calls, pushing back from her desk. She moves toward the door, her mind still half on the research she was doing.

When she opens the door, her frown deepens at the sight of Scott and Stiles standing there. Both of them look a bit out of breath, and she immediately knows something's up. Scott's eyes are wide, his hoodie slightly disheveled, and Stiles, well, he looks like his usual anxious self.

"What are you two doing here?" she asks, crossing her arms.

"We need you to come with us," Scott blurts out, his voice low but rushed. "Back to the forest. Where—"

"Where the body was found," Stiles finishes for him, his eyes darting around nervously. "We need to go back."

Alycia stiffens. That night in the woods. The half of the body they found. The... creature that bit Scott and scratched her. She'd told herself it was a rock that cut her arm, but when she woke up the next day, there wasn't a single mark. Not a scratch. And Scott—Scott had burst into her room that morning, frantic, pulling up his shirt to show her his side.

The bite was gone.

Completely healed, as if nothing had ever happened.

And that wasn't something she could explain away with logic, no matter how much she wanted to. She looks from Scott to Stiles, her mind racing. They had promised to stay away from that place, but something in their expressions tells her this is important.

"What is this about?" she asks, her voice calmer than she feels.

Scott exchanges a quick glance with Stiles before answering. "My inhaler," he says. "We want to go look for it."

Alycia bites her lip. She had promised to find another one for him, but with their limited money, she hadn't been able to. They didn't have any left at home, and buying a new one was expensive—more than she could afford right now. She knew how dangerous it was for Scott to be without one, especially with his asthma.

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⏰ Last updated: Oct 08, 2024 ⏰

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