title: the universe is standing still
author: alex (maraudings)
rating: T
word count: 1,388
disclaimer: teen wolf and its characters belong to mtv, not me. written for fun, not profit.
a/n: this was inspired by an au prompt i saw kicking around tumblr a few months ago where one person calls the other and tries not to let them in on how badly they're hurt/dying/whatever because they just want to hear their voice normal and happy and not freak them out. obviously it's a little tricky to deal with death when one character is a banshee, but i tried to incorporate her powers and symptoms into this as best i could while still trying to keep the essence of the prompt. in retrospect i totally could've just switched their places but hey, a challenge is always fun.
slightly AU: the pack is hunting down an extremely dangerous supernatural creature after attacks around beacon hills have increased tremendously. stiles, thinking he knows how to catch it, goes off on his own to investigate.
- the universe is standing still -
It was quick.
Not painless—definitely not painless—but quick. One moment he was standing, intact and alert, the next he was falling to the floor, hand at his side drenched in masses and masses of blood while his mouth opens in a silent groan.
Not exactly how he thought this would go.
It wasn't good. His head swam, both hands pressing desperately against the wound trying not to think about how wet his hands felt. Somewhere behind him he hears the door slamming close as the creature moves on. Briefly, Stiles is thankful that they weren't dealing with anything that liked to eat its kill. Never has he been more thankful to be dealing with the 'kill for sport' type. He's not sure he could stomach a death by consumption— literal consumption, that is.
"Fuck," he cursed, hissing a sharp intake of breath through his teeth. He's not certain any amount of pressure he could possibly apply could do anything for him. It hurt to crane his neck to look down at the wound, but he could feel the amount of blood he was losing slipping from his body, soaking his shirt and sweatshirt.
It was too much.
For a split second he isn't even sure help could get to him in time. The hospital was already slammed from the recent attack outbreaks, overwhelmed and understaffed. Why did he come here alone? Stupid. He was supposed to meet up with Scott in the woods, not make an impromptu stop at the school on a hunch that (unfortunately) turned out to be correct.
He has to warn the others, is the next urgent thought that comes to him. He has to warn Scott. His hand is fumbling into the front pocket of his jeans when a second thought crosses his mind, and he could have hit himself for momentarily forgetting.
Lydia.
He's already dialing her number before he even has the change to think about what exactly he was going to tell her. Hey Lydia, I know we just had this discussion about being careful and not getting slashed by anything with claws, but the thing is I was stupid and it got me. He winces as he puts the phone to his ear. It got him good.
As it starts to ring he decides that he isn't telling her. If he can get away with hiding what experience tells him is a very, very serious wound from a death-sensing banshee, then so be it. Because the fact of the matter is that Stiles is all too aware of just how much blood he was losing. It was too much.
And all he wanted at this moment was to hear her voice.
She was taking too long to pick up, he realizes. Where is she? Is she alright? Answer your phone—
"Uh, hello?"
The voice sounds distant to his ears. "Liam?" He manages to say, both impressed with his own ability not to gasp out in pain and concerned with the fact that it was the sophomore that answered. "Where… where is Lydia?"
He sounds a little overwhelmed. "She's here, she's fine—at least, I think she is. She just kind of collapsed. She's fine, though!" He adds quickly. "She's like, conscious and everything, but she slumped against the wall and I… what's that? Oh, she wants to talk. Here she is."
Stiles couldn't even thank him, instead rotating the end of the phone down to avoid the sounds of his ragged breathing from emitting through.
"Stiles?"
He could have died right then.
"Lydia? What's wrong?" But he knew already. How could she not have sensed it?
"I think-I think something's happened. Someone is hurt, I think someone-" she cuts out, and for a moment Stiles thinks the signal was lost but she returns. "Where are you? Are you okay?"
He is extremely aware of the blood seeping through his fingers at his side when she asks this, but from the sound of her voice he knows that he can't bring himself to tell her. "Yeah, I'm fine. No trouble here."
"I don't know Stiles, I feel…" she trails off, but she doesn't need to explain further for him to understand. She feels him dying, just as he feels the life leaving him. "Something is wrong, someone is hurt, and I-I'm really scared."
"Hey, shh," he says through the phone, using the last of his strength to control his breathing. In, out, in out. "Everything is fine. I'm sure everything is absolutely fine." He pressed the end of the phone into his shoulder as hard as he can while he lets out a cough he could no longer suppress. A small beading of blood rolls down the side of his mouth.
Just as he thought she wouldn't, she didn't believe him. "I can't reach Scott, or Kira. Liam says he's lost signal from the tracker so basically there's a large creature of the night running around unchecked. Who knows what it is doing or how many people are going to get hurt. Where are you again? At the school?"
He twists his head to look around at the blood-stained lockers—bad move, the hole in his side strains and he tries his hardest not to cry out in pain. A sharp exhale of breath slips out, and he fights to hide it. "U-uh yeah, yeah, I'm at the school. N-nothing going on here, but I think it might be nearby."
"We'll come to you, okay? I can't shake this feeling, and it's really strong."
"No," he almost gasps out. He doesn't want her to find him, to open the door and see him lying in a pool of blood. "No, I-I'm fine."
"Humor me. We're coming."
He screws his eyes shut, spots swimming across the backs of his eyelids. He feels too lightheaded to think of an argument, to think of anything other than how much he doesn't want this to happen. Over the other line, he hears a car door slam.
"We'll be there in five minutes," Lydia tells him. "Where are you exact-" There's a sharp hissing as she sucks in air. "Stiles, my head. It's just getting worse, and I don't know… Stiles, I'm scared."
Her voice sounds desperate, and in pain, and Stiles shakes his head against the floor. "No, no Lydia. It's fine, alright? It'll all be fine, I promise."
She doesn't believe him—she doesn't even have to speak for him to know that the only thing she can focus on is the overwhelming sense that someone is about to die. Because someone was about to die. And as his vision grows hazier and hazier by the second, Stiles is almost positive that person is going to be him.
"Just be careful," Lydia says quietly, but the urgency was clear. "We'll be there soon, okay?"
Stiles didn't even hear her—it was hard enough to focus on anything as his mind swam in and out. For the briefest of moments he could no longer feel the cold, hard surface of the locker room tile against his back and thought he might have been at home in his bed. An image of his mother comes to his head briefly, then his father. Then Scott, then Lydia. He finds that he no longer has the strength to open his eyes.
"I love you, Lydia. Alright?" It's hard for him to speak up, but he tries, not really caring how transparent he's being about his injuries anymore. "I love you. And tell Scott and my father too, okay? I love you, and I'm sorry."
"Stiles? Liam, call an ambulance. Stiles? Stiles!"
Lydia's voice sounded far, far away. He thought he heard a scream, but he wasn't positive. He was finding it impossible to distinguish if anything he felt was real or not.
The last thing he resisters is the weight of his phone in his hands disappearing as it slips through his fingers, hand slack and mind peacefully blank.