{Latin ^ Grand Finale} Friday February 18th, 2011 {Day 41}
{Words: 3355}
Back at The Beacon Hills Hospital...
Jackson caught up with Stiles and Morwen as they made their way down the hospital corridor. "Where are you going?" he inquired.
"To find Scott," Stiles replied, his gaze shifting to Morwen, their pale and sickly complexion evident.
"You don't have a car," Jackson pointed out, a touch of annoyance in his tone.
"We're well aware of that, Jackass. Thank you," Morwen retorted with a hint of sarcasm, their voice strained.
"I'll drive," Jackson offered, his persistence clear.
"Just because you're suddenly feeling guilty doesn't make it okay," Stiles snapped.
"Half of this is your fault," Morwen added, wincing slightly as they held onto their shoulder, offering it a soothing rub.
"I have a car. You don't. Do you want my help or not?" Jackson's voice remained steady.
Stiles and Morwen halted their steps, their reluctant gazes meeting Jackson's. They begrudgingly accepted that, despite their reservations, they did need Jackson's assistance.
"Did you bring the Porsche?" Morwen inquired.
"Yeah," Jackson nodded.
"Good. I'm driving," Stiles declared with a wry smile. But just as they all turned to resume their journey down the hall, three men rounded the corner, halting them in their tracks—Argent and two hunters.
"Boys. Morwen," Argent greeted them with an ostensibly friendly smile.
"I was wondering if you could tell me where Scott McCall is," Argent huffed, a slight smirk playing on his lips.
"Scott?" Morwen scowled, an uneasy sensation sending a shiver down their spine, causing them to roll their shoulders.
"Haven't seen him since the dance. Jackson?" Stiles chimed in, directing his question at his friend.
Staring at Argent, Jackson's mouth opened and closed, his attempt to find words evident.
Stiles observed his struggle with a mix of frustration and impatience. "Oh, for the love of—"
Minutes later in The Beacon Hills Hosptial Morgue...
With a chaotic entrance, Stiles, Morwen, and Jackson burst into the morgue room, colliding and crashing onto the floor in a tangle of limbs. Their collective groans of pain filled the air as they rolled to a halt, entangled with one another.
Amidst the commotion, Morwen was hit particularly hard. They doubled over in agony, clutching their shoulder in distress. Wracked by pain, they curled into a fetal position on the floor, facing away from the others, their suffering palpable.
A relentless fever surged through their body like a relentless tsunami, overwhelming them with its intensity. Their skin appeared to vibrate rapidly, creases forming and black veins snaking their way from their shoulder blade down to their wrist. Clutching their afflicted arm close to their chest, Morwen grimaced, attempting to conceal the distressing transformation. A groan escaped their lips as searing pain radiated through their entire being.
As Argent entered the room, flanked by the two hunters, the door clicked shut behind them. The hunters gripped their guns tightly in their hands, ready for any potential threat.
