Hey guys,

thanks for the first four reviews and a lot of Alerts and Favorites! I'm very happy that you're interested in my words.

The next chapter is a little shorter, but the one after that will be longer and not that much of a fill-in than this one seems to be. However, there's some important things that have to be cleared up for Stiles and he'll deal with it in this chapter.

Have fun reading!


Scared

"… and we are back again. Thanks for staying with us this morning. We're very happy to …"

Stiles wakes up suddenly when the door to his hospital room is opened by someone. Strangely, it never occurred to his subconscious to snap out of his dream because of the fairly loud noises the TV makes. Apparently, he fell asleep while watching 'The Notebook' with Lydia. No wonder, regarding all the different medications he has to take these days to recover. He can barely remember the first part of the movie, so he must have dozed off immediately after they had fallen silent.

Looking at the two empty chairs makes Stiles' stomach drop for a second before he scolds himself in his mind. Why would Lydia Martin wait for him to wake up in the morning? Especially when it means sleeping in an uncomfortable chair like the one standing next to his bed.

"Morning, Stiles," a familiar voice says a few seconds after closing the door again.

"Morning, Mrs. McCall," he replies with a yawn when she gets in sight.

"Thanks for boosting the electricity bill of my workplace," she laughs while putting a fresh collection of medications on his nightstand.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," he replies. "But I kind of fell asleep and Lydia must have left at some point shortly after that."

Stiles remembers what the strawberry-blonde told him about sneaking into his room, so it's no problem to share his thoughts with Scott's mom.

For a moment, Mrs. McCall is studying him and a crease appears between her brows. "I'm worried about her, you know," she says after a moment. "She seems to put the blame on herself when it comes to not saving you faster."

Stiles inhales sharply and tries to get up but flinches at the pain rushing through his body. Sudden movements still aren't a very good idea. "Why?" He groans, doing his best to get into something that looks more like a sitting position than a lying and manages to end up in a thing between both options.

Mrs. McCall walks to one side of his bed, still a worried look on her features. For a brief moment, a memory of his own mother Claudia appears in his mind and he clenches his fists to hold in possible other images popping up in his mind.

"I don't know, exactly, to be honest," she tells him, putting one of her hands on his shoulders. "But she'll get past that. When she sees you being healthy again at the latest. You know her. You know she's a fighter."

Stiles tries to look up to the woman who was like a mother figure for him since his own mother's death. "Thank you," he simply replies, because there is nothing else he could say right now. "Yeah, she definitely is a fighter."

Silence follows his words, until the anchorman of the morning show yells something about getting naked in public and they both snap out of their thoughts.

"So, is there anything you can tell me about my treatment?" Stiles asks to simply change the subject and draw attention towards their conversation and away from the disturbingly awake man on TV.

He doesn't think there will be much he doesn't know already.

"Actually, I have," Mrs. McCall replies, much to his surprise. "The doctors have scheduled your first therapy lesson to next Thursday since the scans of your body were unexpectedly positive."

A comforting feeling washes over him, followed by confusion. "What does that mean? Unexpectedly positive?"

Mrs. McCall gives him a reassuring look. "Don't worry. You're plain human. Some of your organs were damaged and are about to heal and the scar on your stomach and a few smaller ones will most likely stay there for the rest of your life but your body is working its own magic. No supernatural forces involved. You've always been a stubborn one, you're fighting for yourself."

A smile appears on Stiles' face and a warm feeling makes its way to his heart. "Thanks," he says again and although he feels like he told a lot of people just this, it still doesn't feel overused. It's the only thing his people should hear every day from now on.

Because if they wouldn't have been there for him, if they hadn't clung to the belief that he could still be rescued, even after he had done what the Nogitsune wanted him to do, he wouldn't be here right now.


The next few days pass by and nothing bad happens. Stiles hasn't much time to think about what happened to him, what was forced upon him and which extremes his body and soul had to get through. There's always somebody with him.

At first he believes they feel guilty for him being in hospital, but after three days of constant company, Stiles gets the idea that they try to distract him from thinking too hard. Usually, Scott or Lydia stay at his side after dinner until he falls asleep, which currently is around 10 pm since he still feels exhausted and all the pills he has to swallow take their toll on him. During the day, everybody seems to visit occasionally. His dad visits after work and even Mrs. McCall tries to sneak in whenever she has a few minutes and brings him his meals and medication day by day.

All of them have worried looks on their faces.

It's something Stiles notices every time someone sits down next to him. They try to hide it but he still gets the impression that something's off. That they aren't exactly sure how to treat him, how to talk to him. Even Scott shows his insecurity in brief moments of hesitation, which is something he's never seen on his face before.

Which is why it strikes the eye that clearly.

It takes Stiles exactly five and a half hours of his Sunday after waking up to analyze why everybody's acting like they're acting.

They are scared.

They are scared he will snap out of his skin and become the Nogitsune again because none of them understands how the demon fox got into his body in the first place.

They are scared because they saw him acting as the Nogitsune.

They are scared because his appearance reminds them of the Nogitsune.

His heart rate increases when he finally connects the dots.

"Have you listened to me?" His father asks.

No, he hasn't.

"Are you scared of me?" Stiles blurts out suddenly.

The words echo through the room like a gun shot. Sheriff Stilinski is looking at him, mouth open, caught mid-sentence. For a moment he doesn't move at all, then closes his mouth, only to open it again a second later.

Finally, he replies. "What are you talking about?"

Stiles rolls his eyes and regrets his annoyed reaction immediately. "Everyone is looking at me like I'm about to get crazy again. I watched them change looks when they think I'm not paying attention. I know it's hard to get back to normal for them but …" His voice trails off, but his mind keeps spinning.

It's hard for me, too. I need their support, not their strange looks. The Nogitsune used my body, infiltrated my mind, not theirs. The person, whose path will be the rockiest, is mine, not theirs.

"I'm not."

Stiles is not sure where the certainty is coming from but it doesn't even take him a full second to believe his father.

"Why not? My face surely reminds you of the monster that was possessing me."

His dad sighs, waits a few breaths until he replies. "I'm going to be very honest with you now, but you're my son and I know you'll handle this, so I'm not going to lie." He inhales deeply, before he continues, moves a little closer to Stiles. "Yes, occasionally there are still a few moments popping up in my head, where this demon made you move and act like it wanted to. But I knew this face before it was misused and I know what you're capable of and this doesn't involve causing chaos and strife. It involves caring about your family and friends and giving them a reason to feel important. It involves being a pretty intelligent kid that has a lot of all those character traits of my wife that made me marry her in the first place. It involves being a pain in the ass sometimes and telling me crap you want me to believe but deep down I know that everything you lied to me about these past few months has been to protect me. That's you, Stiles. Not the cold-blooded, reckless thing that possessed you for a few days. Yet, you have to understand that they will need some time, but they'll come around eventually. All that happened wasn't even a full week ago and it's still fresh to all of them. But you'll see. Sooner than you think they'll have smiles on their faces again and there won't be any uncomfortable moments anymore."

Stiles didn't even know that he needed to hear sentences like these but with every word his father is voicing he feels the anxiety getting a little less prominent. By the end of the short speech he has calmed down almost completely.

Feeling his father's hand on his shoulder, carefully caressing him and spending him comfort, he suddenly has to suppress crying.

Looking up, his dad has to fight the same urge.

"I'm so glad I didn't lose you, too," he says without a warning, his voice shaky and almost not audible.

"Dad, don't–"

"Your mother would be proud of you."

That's the moment where the first tear rolls down Stiles' cheek.

A moment later, he finds himself in his dad's arms and the pain isn't important anymore.

"I doubt that," he replies, his words muffled against his father's shoulder. When they pull back, Stiles looks him into his eyes. "But I think she would've liked the new haircut."

Teary laughs echo through the small room. Sad smiles are exchanged. Together they revel in memories of their beloved wife and mother.


The next day passes by in a blur. Stiles feels a little more exhausted than the days before and falls asleep a few times during the day whenever he's on his own. It is late afternoon when his heartbeat has a reason to increase and he suddenly feels awake.

She's wearing a pink dress and brown high heels.

But the first thing Stiles notices are the dark circles under her eyes.

It's something that not just sticks out because he probably knows every inch of her outer appearance and has memorized every single impression her face has ever shown but also because Lydia Martin's make-up is always perfect.

"Hey," he says, his voice cracking since he hasn't said much this day.

"Hey," she replies, pulling the chair over to Stiles and sitting down next to him. "How are you?"

"How are you?" Stiles retorts immediately. "You look terrible. I mean – not terrible, but … tired. Really tired. Because of the … the bags under your eyes. Not that they're that prominent, you know. I just noticed them by accident and –"

"I couldn't sleep very well," Lydia interrupts his struggle for words and looks at her hands. "I haven't had a good sleep in days."

The urge to help her is so prominent it's almost ridiculous.

"I'm not really the best to talk to when it comes to get-a-good-night-of-sleep-advice, you know," Stiles tells her with a crooked smile. "It's only the meds that make me all dozy but I wouldn't recommend them to anybody because they make you feel like that for days."

Lydia smiles back, biting her lip. "Any news from the doctors?"

For a moment, Stiles is a little taken aback by the sudden change of topic, however, he respects if she doesn't want to talk about it. "Other than the therapy lesson next Thursday I've already told you about, no."

It feels almost natural telling her the newest developments. They were keeping each other up-to-date the whole time during troubling times. The only difference now was that it was about his safety and health, about him and not about others.

His well-being is important to her.

He is important to her.

The news he just gave himself feels more overwhelming than he would've guessed only thinking about it.

"Wanna watch some TV?" He asks her, trying to make something out of the silence that's stretching through the hospital room.

Lydia nods, looking at her hands again. She's close enough that he notices goose bumps on her arms. The words Scott's mom said to him ring in his ears again.

'I'm worried about her, you know. She seems to put the blame on herself when it comes to not saving you faster.

"Are you freezing?" He blurts out without thinking about it.

In response, she folds her arms, tracing her hands down her upper arms, almost as if she wants to cover the evidence. "I'm okay."

"No, seriously, Lydia," Stiles says, this time a little more insistently. "What's wrong?"

She doesn't reply but looks away instead, her curls falling down with the movement and shielding her face from his view.

And even though Stiles should be worried about his own well-being and only his, he can't do anything about reacting like he reacts and acting like he acts. "You can talk to me," he says, this time in a soft voice, ignoring the exhaustion creeping up inside him, telling him to calm down or go to sleep. "I know a few things about feeling like crap."

For a few heartbeats, she doesn't move an inch and Stiles is at a loss with what to do next. Since he's practically bound to stay in his current something-between-sitting-and-lying-position, he can't do anything else than wait for her to speak up again.

"I have to go," she finally replies and her words feel like physical pain.

You can stay and talk to me, I'll listen. I won't judge you. I won't give you advice if you don't want any. I won't tell anybody about what's burdening you. I'll try and make you feel better. I'd do anything to make you feel better. Always.

A rush of words appear in his head but he only says "Okay." and let's her go.

One moment later she's gone and the only thing left is silence.


This night, Stiles dreams of Lydia and her sitting next to his bedside, watching him sleep. A peaceful smile appears on his face and a sad smile appears on hers. A single tear falls down her face and onto the cold ground. He wants to move and avoid her shedding another one because of him but even in his subconscious he's too tired to move.

The next morning, he doesn't remember dreaming and that's good because no dark memories were penetrating his mind.


A/N: So, that's it. I'm not one hundred percent satisfied with the chapter but well.

First thing cleared up: Stiles is human. Second thing cleared up: His father isn't afraid of him and he promises that his friends won't be soon, too.

And the big question: What's wrong with Lydia? And was her sitting next to his bedside while he was sleeping a dream or was he actually looking at her? You'll find out soon enough. ;)

I'd love to hear back from you guys! Tell me what you think.