Hey there,
this is my first Stydia fanfiction and my first written in English. I'm not a native speaker, I'm from Germany and I'm trying to improve my writing skills with every sentence that I write. But let's stop with the blabbing about me and my issues and come to the more important things.
This fanfiction is called Healing and the plot for it just popped up in my mind one day. Season 3B was a huge pain for every Stiles stan and therefore for me, too. I started to write this fic after watching 3.21 and I won't include anything happening after this episode, besides maybe a few bits and pieces. I don't know, what will happen to Stiles (yet), but it won't matter to this story.
I've been thinking about writing an emotion-centered Stydia-fic for a while now and just when the episode aired, I got an idea I could work with. I don't like that a lot of questions are still unanswered between the two and, to be quite honest, I'm pretty upset about that. If you want me to write a meta about this, ask me. But right now, this would go beyond the constraints of this story introduction.
I will do my best to please your expectations and maybe even surpass them. I have a lot in mind for this story and I will try to keep this a constant work in progress. But well, let's get to the formalities and then to the fun part, right?
Name: Healing
Rating: T, maybe later M, I'm not sure about that yet
(Longer) Summary: After they got rid of the Nogitsune, Stiles needs to recover from his physical and mental injuries since the Nogitsune didn't go gentle. Being in hospital can be pretty boring most of the time, but besides his best friend Scott, especially one certain strawberry-blonde girl tries to make his stay as enjoyable as possible. Not leaving him a second to make up for all those years where she thought he wasn't worth a single thought, something more blossoms. Lydia wants to do it right. It's an unexpected, slow burn, but it definitely is a burn. And this time, it's a good one.
Disclaimer: This story is mine, everything Teen Wolf related isn't.
"It's good to be human again."
The words float lightly through the air of the hospital room, almost not audible. The voice is creaky, weak. As if it hasn't been used for days, maybe even weeks.
"I mean, apart from the fact that no part of my body is healthy right now, it's still better than not knowing what I'm doing at all."
A small smile flashes across Stiles' face. The fraction of a second later it's gone again. Every few minutes waves of pain attack his body. Every movement still hurts.
"You'll be better soon," Lydia replies, sitting at the bottom end of the bed, counting the creases in the bedding. Her strawberry-blonde curls bounce at the slightest motion. Stiles observes them with tired eyes, giving his mind something to do. Everything else is memorized already. The wardrobe made of wood to his left, the mint green walls with a TV attached to the wall at the opposite side. The beige colored floor. The two chairs and the small, circular table beneath the TV. The huge window to his right with white curtains and a good view of most of Beacon Hills. The small lamp on the bed stand next to him, now housing a glass of water and a few pills in a box, too.
It has been four days since Stiles was separated from the Nogitsune once and for all and it had taken his friends a lot of effort and blood and nerves to get him out alive. But here he is, bruised and broken, but with a healthy, beating heart. His memories are vague, only snapshots of what happened flash through his mind from time to time but he tries to avoid thinking about them for now. Stiles knows, he has to overcome what happened to him, he knows a lot of long talks with a therapist are lying ahead and he knows all of it won't be pleasant. But he also knows his friends will be at his side. Being awake for a day now, he has seen all of them already. His dad had sat at his bedside until he had woken up and after making sure that his son was okay – according to circumstances – he had made room for the few other people he cared about. Scott was the first to say hi to him, then Lydia. The rest visited him this morning – Isaac, Allison, Kira, Scott's mom and even the twins and Derek. After lunch, Lydia knocked on his door again and hasn't left ever since.
"How do you feel?" Lydia asks, biting her lip in her very own Lydia-way, and Stiles can detect the concern in her eyes. It warms his heart to see how much she seems to care about him and it breaks his heart to see her hurt.
"I'm fine," Stiles replies, trying to smile again, but fails.
"No," Lydia says, shaking her head. "Tell me the truth."
"I'm fine," he repeats. As long as you're here, I'm fine. "I need my body to heal and I'm bound to talk about what happened to be able to remember what happened because everybody wants me to remember what happened and after talking about what I remembered that happened I have to get over everything that happened and what I remember by then, but right now I feel okay."
There isn't a single second where Lydia seems confused, even when he's wording things the way he's usually wording them. A small smile washes over her features, almost not noticeable, but Stiles doesn't miss it. There is only very little he misses when it comes to Lydia Martin herself.
"So, what's going to happen to me here?" he asks, using the h-word again on purpose while trying to ignore the lump in his throat, that hasn't been there a moment earlier.
Lydia takes a breath, glances shortly out of the window. A few seconds pass by, until she answers.
"You were right with what you assumed earlier," she began slowly. "You'll have to get through a lot of talks with a therapist and you can't refuse. Right now, the doctors think you were abused by a psychotic man who – wondrously – left you at the warehouse and is on the run now. There is a criminal party investigating currently but there's no chance they'll find anything important, obviously. Your injuries were explained by Scott's mom in a report. Nobody will get curious about it. You're safe."
The last two words leave Lydia's mouth with a spark in her eyes Stiles can't really classify. Something between happiness and relief, maybe both.
"I'm glad you saved me," he tells her, trying to make the bad feeling obviously stressing her go away.
"I didn't save you," she answers and guilt is dripping from her words.
"Yes, you did," he insists. In more ways you can imagine.
"I heard your subconscious in my mind and told Scott. He got the Nogitsune out of you, not me. I just … I just gave him information about your whereabouts." Lydia's features look sad, disappointed, guilty.
"And if you wouldn't have told Scott, nobody would've known where I was."
The words are hanging in the air between them. Stiles knows that he's right, even though he only knows the summary of what happened right now.
Lydia knows that he's right, too. But it still feels like she could've done better.
"Thank you, Lydia," he says.
And she smiles.
Stiles was able to sense the weight of the Nogitsune in each single cell of his body and at the same time it felt like the connection to his own body was dysfunctional. One second he seemed to regain authority over his muscles, the next he lost the little power he had owned one moment earlier. The demon inside him was simply too strong.
He had lost control over his own body.
It felt odd, still being present in his own flesh and bones but simultaneously not being connected to it completely. He could hear the thoughts of the Nogitsune in his mind – or the Nogitsune's mind who inhabited his brain cells and therefore had made it his? He couldn't tell the difference anymore.
The electric shock had burned most of his inner organs and wouldn't the demon fox possess his limbs, he would've died already. Even if it was possible to free him from the Nogitsune somehow, Stiles would die the second they were separated. That he was sure of.
Thinking was hard. Following what was happening, too. He caught glimpses of reality, until his mind was tricked by the Nogitsune again. He remembered ripping that wire in two parts, he remembered kissing Malia in the Eichen House, he remembered turning that sword back and forth in Scott's torso.
He didn't know what had happened for real and what was only a figment of his imagination. He didn't know when he was sleeping or when he was awake or if he actually still had the ability to move his muscles when he wanted it.
He didn't know a damn thing –
– besides the fact that he was standing in Derek's apartment right now. Or the Nogitsune in his body. Or both.
The voice of his father touched his mind, made him open his eyes. Not his literal ones, but the eyes he was seeing through in his head.
He heard his voice, hoarse and cold, say "Dad?" – or were it his actual vocal chords responding to his will?
The concern in his father's eyes would have made him tear up if he would have been able to control the bags under his eyes. Yet, even though he couldn't manage to take over his own body, he felt that this wasn't right. Stiles didn't know which plans the Nogitsune had in mind, they didn't share thoughts – well, maybe the demon fox was able to read his, but it didn't work the other way, apparently.
Which was a huge disadvantage, if he would ever be able to communicate with them.
"Stiles, I know you're in there somewhere," his dad continued. The Nogitsune turned around, very slowly, almost cautiously. If the situation would have been different, Stiles would have rolled his eyes at the dramatic element.
His father's voice was faint, its volume changing with each word he said. It almost sounded like a radio station not having a good reception. It took all of Stiles' concentration to focus on the here and now.
He was looking through his own eyes and at the same time he wasn't.
Help me, please, he screamed in his mind, but not a single syllable was coming out of his mouth.
Instead, his own corners of his mouth were twitching into a sick smile. "Yes, he's in here," the Nogitsune replied in place of Stiles, using his voice again without permission. "And he's so desperate to talk to you."
For a brief moment, Stiles was able to focus on his father's face and what he saw made his heart sink again. Rage and hatred alternated with despair and helplessness. Too many emotions stuffed into one body. Too many possible decisions stuffed into one mind. His features literally screamed 'What do I have to do'?
Then the door opened again – and Scott entered the room.
The smile on his best friend's face is something Stiles never thought he would need that desperately. However, watching Scott sit down on the exact same spot, Lydia sat only hours before, he feels his heart bump in a happy manner.
"How are you, man?" Scott asks in a forced casual tone. "You look terrible."
Stiles rolls his eyes playfully, manages a small smile. "Have been better."
Scott gives a short laugh, almost a bark. "Feeling any pain?"
"Are you serious? I ripped a high voltage cable into pieces. I killed all my nerve endings, I won't ever feel pain again."
"So you're completely fine," the werewolf replies, still smirking.
"Yeah, right. I feel like a million dollars right now."
They both know they're trying to make light conversation, but it's clear as day that it won't be easy at all to get back to normal.
As if his best friend heard the thought in his head, his smile disappears slowly and he grinds his jaw. "Listen," he begins, gulping once. "Since I'm your best friend and you are my best friend I probably know where this conversation is leading to, but I'll try, anyway."
A frown appears on Stiles' face. "What are you talking about?"
Scott takes a deep breath, leans in a few inches, before he answers. "Let me help you."
One pair of brown eyes connects with the other. For a brief moment, they can almost read their thoughts until Stiles looks away. He understands almost immediately what Scott wants to do. "No."
To his surprise, Scott laughs lightly. "I thought you'd say that."
"Yeah, because I'm your best friend," Stiles reminds him.
For a moment they are quiet, reminiscing everything that happened to them in the near past.
"Why not?" Scott finally breaks the silence, looking curious.
Stiles sighs. "Because I need to feel it."
Scott frowns. "What do you mean?"
Stiles takes another look through the room. The fear of not being alone is coming and going in waves. The panic attacks are brewing inside him and he knows he will break down sometime soon. The flashes of images inside his mind are enough to make his body get cold, to make his body tremble uncontrollably.
Not having control over his own body is something he doesn't ever want to feel again.
"When the Nogitsune took over my body, I couldn't do anything about it. I was there, I was able to see what it did, even if I forgot most about it, which I'm glad for, by the way, but I wasn't able to prevent it from causing chaos and strife. I felt what it felt and there wasn't an ounce of regret. I watched it torture people, I watched it prepare its sick games and I couldn't even break free for a single second just to tell you about it."
"But we finally fig–"
"Yes, you figured it out in the end. But I was there, Scott. I could have done something. But I was too weak to–"
His voice gets lost, the guilt rolling over him in waves. Tears well up in his eyes and at the same time they feel as dry as ever since he woke up two days ago.
"You're aware that this was a Nogitsune, Stiles, a really, really powerful demon fox. Nobody could've done something about that."
Scott's voice is unstable, too. As a werewolf, he can sense the increased heart rate of his best friend, the blood pumping through his veins way too strong.
"I know," Stiles replies after a long silence, after his body and mind have calmed down a little. "I need control over my own body and mind. And if this means I have to lie in this hospital bed for the next two or four weeks and get crappy meals from the staff and only occasional checks by your mom, who seems to be the only nice person working here, then that's how it is. I need to recover on my own, without any help from someone else." I need to be able to accept my own body again.
Thinking about the matter and actually speaking to someone about it is a huge difference but Scott understands and lets it go. "Okay," he replies, nodding once. "I understand that. But whenever you feel like someone could help you out with getting rid of some of that pain, you know my number."
Smiles bloom on both faces. "The second I feel like it I'll give you a call, McCall."
Stiles wakes up when another memory flashes through his mind but a few seconds after coming back to the real world most of it is gone again already. His senses are on high alert even though there isn't anything that could possibly harm him. Or invade his mind. He feels the sweat on his whole body but is too weak to get up and shower it off.
While taking deep breaths to calm himself down and pushing the images inside his head away until they vanish eventually, his eyes wander through the dark room.
He has to suppress a scream when he discovers someone sitting at the bottom end of his bed, looking at him.
It's a girl and its hair is curly, he can see that in the dim light of the moon shining through the window. It's a clear night, probably fairly cold, too. Full moon is only days away.
"Lydia?" He asks, his voice crooked. "What are you doing here?"
The strawberry-blonde bites her bottom lip, fumbles with her dress for a second, then she answers. "I wanted to make sure you're okay." Her own voice sounds crooked, too. "I couldn't sleep, so I went to the hospital and sneaked in. Scott's mom saw me on my way but she told me as long as I kept quiet I could stay."
Stiles moves a bit to the left and turns on the small lamp on his nightstand. Its light isn't warm or cozy, but her presence is.
"I'm fine," he replies, taking a long look at Lydia. "There isn't anything anymore that could be a threat to me. Or anybody else." He's not sure if he's encouraging her or himself.
She nods. "I know. I just …" She's struggling for words, something Lydia Martin only does on rare occasions. "I've been here for some time now. I didn't want to wake you, but I saw you dreaming so I tried to get you out of there."
Stiles grimaces. Flashes of images pass his mind again. "I can't really remember what I dreamed of. There was my dad and I was talking to him and then Scott came in and wanted to …" He's at a loss at what happened after that. "I can't recall it."
"You will. Soon," Lydia replies, trying to smile and a single tear drops on her dress.
Stiles' eyes widen. "Hey, don't cry. There's nothing you should cry about."
Another tear makes its way down her face. He would give anything at that moment to reach up to her and take it away, but he's still too weak to get up. He's barely even strong enough to eat or talk.
"I could've figured it out earlier," Lydia says finally. "If I would've tried harder, I could've thought of the solution to this nightmare faster. You never would have to go through all of this and you wouldn't be here right now."
Stiles' eyes wander towards her hand, estimate the distance between his own and hers and come to the conclusion that he only has to move a little downwards in order to be able to take it.
Lydia looks up from her lap and in his eyes, says nothing.
"You're the smartest girl I know," Stiles begins and means every single word. "You're not just pretty, you're clever, too. And you were the one who finally figured out how to help me get the Nogitsune out of my body. If there's anybody who should be given credit to, it's you."
Her hand is still in his own, feels almost clenched and a little cold. Her pale skin tone looks even paler in his palm. When he strokes it with his thumb, he feels the softness of it and for a second pride wells up inside him.
A few months ago, Lydia wouldn't even recognize him, even if they were classmates. The only thing that is wrong about the circumstance is the fact that they had to go through a lot of terrifying situations to become friends.
Now he is holding her hand and comforting her.
Even if they would never be happy together, he would make sure she would be happy with whomever she wanted to be.
"Thanks," Lydia finally says and for a second, Stiles believes there's something else she wants to tell him. One moment later, though, the moment seems to have passed.
Staring at their hands, Stiles finally looks up. "So, do you want to stay for a while? I have quite the TV now," he says, smiling.
Lydia laughs shortly, taking another look at their hands, before replying. "Yeah, I'll stay."
Then she frees her hand from his, takes one of the two chairs, puts it down next to him and crosses her legs.
"What do you want to watch?" He asks her, holding out the remote in her direction. "May the force be with you."
At that, the strawberry-blonde bursts into laughter. Surprised, Stiles gives her a sideward glance. "You know Star Wars?"
She rolls her eyes. "Of course I do."
A small flashes across his features. "The famous Lydia Martin is a nerd," he teases. "She just confessed it."
Her head turns in his direction, her curls whipping through the air. "I didn't confess anything."
"Oh yes, you did." The laughter is building up inside him and even though Stiles knows his body hasn't healed enough already that it won't happen without feeling pain, he laughs.
For the first time since he woke up, he laughs.
When Lydia stops at 'The Notebook', his laughter becomes silent, though.
"That's your punishment for uncovering my darkest secret," she announces, putting her chin a little higher, but he can see the suppressed smile on her face.
Stiles shortly laughs again, shaking his head once, then concentrates on the movie.
He would do anything for her.
Even if it meant watching the cheesiest of movies ever produced.
A/N: Any thoughts? I'd love to hear back from you. Your opinion is my motivation. Besides those lovely characters, of course.
See you soon,
Dibbii.