Chapter Text
Sunday, February 20th, 2011
Stiles had never considered himself a particularly agile person. Still, after almost getting whacked over the head with a baseball bat on multiple occasions because of his unintentional stealth, he had hoped he would be able to apply this apparent skill to a more practical situation. That was proving to be a pipe dream; every single move he made caused some kind of commotion, and it was truly a miracle no one had caught them yet.
“Could you be any louder, dude?” Scott whispered harshly from behind him once they were finally out of earshot of the cops gathered around the nurse's station.
“Oh, I'm sorry, Scott. I'll make sure to be more careful the next time we plan a stealth mission through a hospital.” Stiles dryly stated as they approached the room, the aforementioned cops had emerged from minutes prior. Lydia could be seen lying unconscious in her hospital bed through the windows lining the walls of her room. The sight brought about a sick, guilty feeling that Stiles wasn't sure how to shake. He had just left her there in that field. Who knows what would have happened if Jackson hadn't shown up not that long after he left with Peter-
“Just go.” Scott huffed through an annoyed breath, ripping Stiles from his thoughts as he walked past him toward the open doorway. The two boys slowly and quietly - well as quietly as you can when Stiles is around - crept into the doorway, crouched to avoid being seen through the quite frankly in Stiles’ opinion, obscene amount of windows covering the walls.
“Shut the door,” Scott whispered across the still-open doorway as he positioned himself into a squat opposite Stiles. Coordinated as ever, Stiles promptly fell on his ass with the momentum of his quick entrance to the room.
He really needed to work on that; He has the bodily awareness of a newborn deer.
He corrected himself to a kneeling position and made to shut the door, but as he went to shut the door, it let a too-loud creak. The sound was so obvious in the near silence of the room that it caused him to wince in feigned pain. Scott just stared at him in disbelief.
“Oh god.” Scott breathed out through a pained grimace while Stiles’ body followed the movement of the door, all the while that high-pitched creak continued to ring throughout the room. He ended up falling with his back against the door with a loud thud after successfully locking it, breathing heavily.
Scott just stared at him with a look of such utter disappointment it was more fit for a father disciplining a rowdy toddler. ”What?” Stiles asked innocently as he stared back at him.
It's not his fault the door was so goddamn loud.
They slowly rose from their crouched position, walking over to Lydia’s bedside, all the while making sure they weren't seen from their exposed position. Stiles is well aware of how weird it would seem for two random teenage boys to show up in an unconscious girl's hospital room. It doesn't exactly look good. With how oblivious Scott can be in these situations sometimes, Stiles was on edge, to say the least. This worry was pushed to the back of his mind for another to take its place when he saw Lydia up close.
The sound of her heart monitor beat steadily, filling the room and matching his own that beat loudly against his ribs. Her beautiful porcelain skin was mottled with bruises and marred with cuts. Her skin was so devoid of color, it was like having watched a flower slowly wilt. Ever since he left that lacrosse field, Lydia and her possible fate have been weighing on his mind.
He watches his best friend struggle daily because of Peter Hale and his useless search for vengeance; he doesn't want to have to watch someone else he cares about go through all that just because he wasn't there when they needed him, again. He's supposed to be the smart one, the one who figures everything out, but he still couldn’t do it fast enough to save Lydia.
He watched as Scott moved Lydia’s hospital gown to reveal the bandages on the side of her torso, stained red from her blood. With a deep breath, he looked away, staring resolutely at the blanket covering her legs. He listened intently as Scott removed her bandage. When he didn't say anything, Stiles asked the question he wasn't even sure he even wanted the answer to.
“Is it completely healed?” he asked quietly.
He was praying Scott didn't say yes, but with everything that had happened over the last couple of weeks, he wasn't very optimistic, and if Scott did say no, that just brought on a shit ton more questions they wouldn't know how to get the answers to.
“No, not at all,” Scott said, a hint of amazement in his tone.
At that, Stiles whipped his head up to look at Scott, they shared a glance, and turned their gazes back to Lydia’s wound, still red with visible stitches. ”I don't get it, the doctor said she’d be fine.” his tone was a flurry of worry and confusion.
It didn't make any sense how she could have gotten bitten by Peter but not turn. Almost the exact same thing happened to Scott, but he was completely healed by the next morning. Why wasn't her body doing the same?
“ Yeah, but the bite’s not healing like it did with me.” Scott quietly stated, sounding just as confused as Stiles felt. “ Which means,” Scott started sounding like he'd come to a realization, “She's not a werewolf,” he finished.
“Then what the hell is she?” He asked softly.
“ I have no idea.” Scott breathed.
“Well, isn't that just great, another thing to add to the never-ending list of shit I have to figure out.” He sighed exasperatedly.
“You know you're not the only one around here who knows how to research, right?” Scott asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Raising a judgmental eyebrow at the dismissive wave Stiles sent his way. Scott scoffed but ducked his head to try and hide the small smile toying at his lips - pretty unsuccessfully. “ Come on, man, we gotta get out of here before someone sees us. I’m gonna go to Allison’s to make sure she's doing okay after her aunt and everything, ya know. What about you?” Scott asked, backing away from the bed and making his way toward the door.
Stiles stayed rooted right where he was. “Good luck with Allison, man. I uh…I think I'm gonna stay here for a little bit longer, then probably head home.” He knows that Scott can probably tell how all over the place his head is at the moment from the slight furrow of his brow, but Scott’s his best friend for a reason. He nods a quick goodbye and sneaks back out the way they came. No questions asked.
Once Scott left, it felt almost too quiet. Regardless of the heart monitor providing a metronome to balance the unsteady breathing, Stiles realized far too late was coming from him. This isn’t his first rodeo he's had panic attacks before - at least he's pretty sure that's what's happening right now - but they aren't usually caused by his lifelong best friend getting turned into a fucking werewolf by a guy he just watched get burned alive and get his throat ripped out right in front of him. Who also kidnapped him after attacking the girl he had a crush on for most of his formative years, who’s now lying in a hospital bed next to him, looking like-
The more he thought about what he'd seen and what had happened in the last two weeks, the louder the silence became, the shallower his breathing got. He hadn't even noticed he had started crying or that he was curled in a ball on the floor, tucked against the wall, trying his absolute hardest to breathe and failing miserably, until he heard the door to the room suddenly open over the noise of his wheezing and the shaking of his chest.
He whipped his head up and towards the door so fast he was genuinely surprised he didn't hear something crack. After wiping away the tears that had collected in his eyes, lumping his eyelashes together, he saw Melissa McCall standing in the doorway, presumably come to check on Lydia. He watched the moment her expression went from professional disinterest to motherly concern in a matter of seconds once her eyes landed on him.
“Stiles, are you okay?” she asked in a concerned frenzy, crouching down in front of him. “What are you doing here?”
He tried to answer her, but all that came out was a pathetic-sounding high-pitched noise in the back of his throat and a shaky breath. He looked up towards the ceiling to try and will the tears in his eyes to go away.
He never wanted her to see him like this.
“Come on, Stiles, I need you to breathe okay, breathe with me,” Melissa said in her most soothing voice, no doubt used on baby Scott to get him to stop crying. She then started taking exaggerated breaths in and out. When Stiles didn’t get the hint, she reiterated, “Stiles, look at me.” She stated more firmly. He did. ”Match my breathing with your own, come on.”
After a couple of minutes of sitting across from each other, breathing in tandem, Stiles had finally gathered himself enough to stand up off the floor and make his way toward the door. Still on the floor, Melissa called up to him concernedly. “Stiles-” He cut her off before she could finish whatever it was she was going to say.
“Have a good night,” he said shortly, pulling open the door and leaving. He heard Melissa call his name one more time as he rounded a corner, but he didn't acknowledge her. He just needed to get to his jeep and get out of there.