Teen Wolf Imagines.

its good to have you back./ allison argent (pt.2)

You sat on a cold metal table, your legs dangling off the edge as the veterinarian shined a light in your eyes. You were a little skittish because all the dread doctors had done was poke and prod at you, but you soon realized Dr. Deaton wasn't a freakishly tall man in a mask.
The vet actually seemed pretty friendly, and you were positive you didn't have to worry with Scott and Allison by your side. After they had dropped you off at the clinic, everyone had left. You knew it was because they were wary of you, and you were sure some of them were even afraid of you.
You didn't blame them though, and after learning you had been dead for eight months, you were a little scared of yourself. The only two who didn't seem to mind you were Scott, and as you had just learned, your sister Allison.
It was strange having people you couldn't remember tell you everything about your life. Allison had grown up right by your side, even though she was two years older than you, and apparently you two had been close. You knew it hurt her that you couldn't remember, and right now you wanted nothing more than to figure out who you were.
"Well," Deaton said, turning off his light and tucking it into his pocket. "Y/n is perfectly fine, physically at least. She seems to be a very healthy chimera."
"Chimera," you repeated, testing the word out of your tongue.
As Scott and the others had explained, you were a human turned into some kind of supernatural creature by something other than the supernatural. It was confusing and you weren't exactly sure what to think of it, but the boy with the blue eyes, Liam, had told you you should be glad you were just mixed with a werewolf and not something else.
While you were grateful you weren't half scorpion, it still didn't feel good to have no idea who you were. You wanted to get your memories back, and Deaton had told you that there was a way to do it, but it was dangerous.
When you replied that you didn't care, he recommended that you try something else first, and if that didn't work you could do it his way. He had sent Allison back to the apartment you had shared with your father, and he promised to let her try her own methods as soon as he had finished his examination.
"We just want to make sure you remain fine," Deaton said. "After all, coming back from the dead is bound to have its consequences."
"I'm fine," you complained. "Can we please just get started?"
Deaton nodding, moving aside so you could hop down. Allison walked over to you and set a box on the now vacant table, beginning to pull objects out of it. There was a photo album, a set of knives, and a teddy bear.
She picked up the teddy bear, holding it out to you. "This is Mr. Bear," she told you. "When I was five and you were three, Dad gave it to you. But I loved it so much, that you said we could share it, as long as you got to name it."
"I must not have been very creative when I was three," you remarked, plucking the bear out of her hands and running your fingers over the soft fabric. You tucked the bear under your arm as Allison moved on to the next object, finding it strangely comforting. You watched as her hands fell on a set of knives, etched with a fleur de lis.
"These were yours," Allison explained. "I was always good at archery, but you were a natural with knives. You made these the night before...the night before you died."
"This is the symbol of our family," she told you as she tapped the fleur de lis. "When we finish learning to be hunters, we usually forge silver bullets, but we wanted to make our own weapons. Dad was so proud of us that night."
You took a blade from her hands, running your fingers gently along the face of it. It seemed to fit perfectly in your hand, and in no time you were flipping it around with ease.
"Woah," you said. "How did I learn to do this?"
"You practiced," Allison told you. "For a really long time too. You were already good at it though. I guess your body hasn't forgotten, even if your mind has."
"Does that mean there's a chance I can remember?" you asked excitedly, turning to Deaton.
The vet pursed his lips, his folded hands resting on the white fabric of his lab coat. "I'm not sure. This isn't exactly a proven science."
You frowned, turning back to Allison. "Next thing?"
She gave you a soft smile, reaching forward and picking up the photo album. She opened it up and the first thing you saw was a red-haired woman holding a baby in a hospital bed. She was flashing the camera a tired smile, and curled up against her side was who you assumed was a two year old Allison.
"Who's that?" you whispered, feeling a pang of sadness you didn't quite understand.
"Our mom," Allison told you softly. "She died about a year and a half ago. She wasn't perfect, but she loved us."
Allison turned the page, but the image of your mother was burned into your head. You brushed it off, your eyes falling on a picture of you and Allison. You both stood next to a target run through with arrows and knives, arms wrapped around each other as you grinned into the camera. You couldn't have been more than eight or nine, and Allison no more than ten or eleven.
"I'm guessing we were good?" you asked her.
"We both ranked nationally," she told you proudly. "You for knife throwing and me for archery."
"Wow," you whispered. "We look so young. We look happy."
"We were," she told you, flipping to the next page. "This is us when we first moved here. We're not so happy in this one."
She flipped to the last page, pulling the picture out of the sleeve and holding it out to you. You took it and brought it closer to your face, examining it.
You were sandwiched in the middle of Allison and another girl, someone with bright strawberry blonde hair. You were making a face as she ruffled your hair, but your eyes were full of light. You could tell that you were happy in this frozen moment, and you figured it had probably been taken before everything had gone to hell.
"That's Lydia," Allison told you. "You haven't met her yet, but you will. She was basically another older sister to you. Stiles took this the start of your freshman year. We were so excited you were finally going to going to high school with us. I'm pretty sure we made more of a big deal out of it than Dad did."
You smiled, looking down at the photo. That was when you noticed Allison staring at you intently, and you felt a pang of sadness as you realized you hadn't remembered anything. The most painful part was that you knew the memories were there, right below the surface. You just couldn't seem to be able to reach them.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, feeling tears prick your eyes. "I just don't remember."
"It's okay," Allison told you, placing her hands on your shoulders. "We'll figure it out."
"What about the ice bath?" Scott asked Deaton.
"Ice bath?" you questioned, raising your eyebrows at them.
"It might be a way to get your memories back," Deaton explained. "But it's dangerous. Your heart rate has to drop considerably, and considering you've been dead for eight months, it might not be enough to support your body."
"But it will get my memories back, right?" you asked.
"There's no guarantee," Deaton told you, his voice filled with regret. "I wish there was."
You took a deep breath, gripping Allison's hands as they rested on your shoulders. "I want to do it."
"Y/n," Allison said. "You don't have to do this. I'd rather have you alive with no memories than-"
"I need to do this," you cut her off. "Allison, please. It's worth the risk."
"I already died," you continued when you saw her doubtful expression. "What's the worse that could happen?"
"Dying again," she told you, an edge to her voice.
"Please," you begged quietly. "I need to remember and it's my choice."
"She's right, Allison," Scott told her. "It's her choice."
"Fine," she finally said. "But if you die again, I'm digging you back up myself."
Deaton nodding, leading you to one of the back rooms. "I had a feeling you might choose to do this, so it's already set up. I should warn you Y/n, this is going to be dangerous. Your heart rate is going to be extremely low."
You stared into the basin full of ice water, swallowing nervously as Allison came up beside you. "You don't have to do this."
"Yes I do," you told her. "But if I don't come back, tell dad that I love him. Promise?"
You had yet to meet your father, but Allison had suggested you hold off until you got your memories back. She didn't want him to see you again, only to have you be ripped away once more.
"Promise," Allison replied.
"And Al?" you asked.
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
You walked forward, stepping into the basin as frozen water began to soak through your jeans. You shivered as you lowered yourself into the water, gritting your teeth against the chill.
"Ready?" Allison asked.
"Ready," you replied, closing your eyes in anticipation.
"Okay," she said. "One, two, three..."
"Y/n!" Allison called from the kitchen as the doorbell rang. "Will you get that?"
"Yeah!" you yelled, rising from the floor where you had been painting Malia's toenails and jumping over Kira's legs in order to get to your front door.
"Ooh, is that the pizza?" Malia asked.
"Malia," you heard Kira complain. "Don't move, you'll ruin the nail polish.
You adjusted your pajama top and opened the front door, only to be slammed into by a flurry of strawberry blonde hair.
"Y/n!" Lydia squealed, squeezing you tighter than you had thought possible for a human being.
"Can't-breathe," you choked, before she finally released you.
"I'm just so happy you're here," she told you, her green eyes filled with adoration.
"I've been here for three weeks," you reminded her. "I've seen you at least ten times already."
"Well, this makes it eleven," she told you, ruffling your hair, and walking into the apartment. "Who's ready for The Notebook?!"
Two sets of cheers erupted from the inside the apartment, followed by a single groan.
"Why do we always have to watch this movie?" Malia complained.
"Because it's a classic," Lydia told her, kicking off her heels and flopping onto the couch beside her. "Plus Stiles won't watch it with me."
"Maybe because you already made him watch it a hundred times," you told her as you popped the notebook into the DVD player.
She playfully threw a pillow at you, which you simply ducked to avoid. "You were a lot cuter when you didn't have any memories."
"Popcorn!" Allison cried, maneuvering over a nest of blankets, magazines and pillows to get to the couch. She plopped down on the floor next to you, handing the bowl of popcorn to Malia.
"Ah, no!" Kira cried, pulling the bowl from Malia's hands. "Do not give her the popcorn. She ate it all by herself last time!"
"And most of the pizza," Lydia remarked.
"Hey, I lived in the woods for eight years!" Malia complained. "I didn't eat pizza or popcorn for eight years!"
"Are you still trying to use that as an excuse to eat us out of house and home?" Lydia asked smoothly.
You groaned. "Can we please just watch this stupid movie?"
A chorus of "fine"s erupted from above you, and you smiled as you hit play on the movie. Allison grinned at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you laid against the bottom of the couch. The previews were just beginning to play when you felt Allison's eyes on you.
"What?" you whispered.
"Nothing," she told you with a smile, her brown eyes shining. "It's just good to have you back, sis."

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