"Stiles, wake up."
Something hits the bed next to his face. He groans and rolls onto his stomach, pushing his face into the pillow. "Go away." It's muffled, but if the huff across the room is any sign, it's understandable.
Another something hits the wall right above his bed and he can feel it land on his shoulder. "Dude, they've been calling you for like thirty minutes. Get up, Stiles."
Stiles uses his arms and pushes up until he's sitting on his knees, hair every which direction and blanket half hanging off the bed frame. He blinks a few times, adjusts to the light and then squints in the direction of his annoying, living alarm clock. "Jesus, it's 3am," he says when he notices the actual clock on the desk.
"Duty calls." His companion's voice is chipper, and Stiles is absolutely disgusted.
He looks back to the other bed, grimacing at its occupant."Ugh, if you're so awake, why didn't you answer it?"
Scott grins back at him. "The call's for you, not me. Besides, I don't think it's too bad. The yellow light on your receiver only just turned orange."
Stiles turns to his receiver in horror. "Shit!" He tumbles out of his cot and nearly hits his head on the nearby chair. The blanket is tangled around his feet and he can hear Scott laughing as he rolls around and tries to kick it off. "I'm gonna kill you," he growls through the part of the blanket that's fallen over his face.
Scott snorts. "You'd have to catch me first."
"You underestimate how fast I can run when it's 3am and I'm angry. Better get your running shoes on now, buddy."
It takes a few seconds to recover, but he's on his feet and moving steadily to the desk before something hits him as totally wrong. He's not sure what but…
"You okay?" Scott looks worried. "You stopped."
"What happened to your receiver?" Stiles steps forward, moves his out of the way, and starts sifting through the mess for Scott's receiver.
Scott looks to his cleared area of the desk as if it's only just occurred to him. "Huh, that's weird. I could have sworn it was here just a few minutes ago."
Stiles' hands are shaking. He doesn't know why.
Spurred by a gut feeling, which he has learned never to ignore, he glances around the room for the rest of Scott's stuff. Some things are in place, but others… "Scott, where's your dad's jacket?" It's not hanging in the designated space, and that's one of the few things Stiles knows Scott never lets out of his sight.
"It's right there," Scott says, pointing to a box by the door.
Stiles steps over to it. It's sealed shut and labelled with Scott's full name and his mother's address. He turns quickly. "Why is it in this–?"
The bed is empty. He's alone.
It all comes crashing back.
His knees buckle when it hits him and he suddenly remembers the sharp pain in his back and the silence of a dead ship. Scott's dead. He wasn't there because his body is in the morgue, Stiles saw it moved, and they're taking him back to be buried in his family plot. It wasn't real. He's alone again and he was just seeing things. He was dreaming again. A dream.
But the flashing orange of his receiver is not.
He stumbles to his feet and reaches the desk, nearly jams his finger when he presses the button. Whittemore's face snarls into existence on his desktop and Stiles straightens and tries to discreetly wipe the sweat dripping from his chin.
"Stilinski, we've been trying to reach you for," he looks down offscreen, "thirty-five minutes."
Stiles swallows and steadies himself against the table. "Sorry, I was… away."
Jackson's scowl deepens. "You know you're supposed to keep it on you at all times."
"I know, but…" He can't think of an excuse that isn't shitty or ridiculous, and the truth is out of question especially with Jackson. He lets it trail off. It's silent for a breath except for the receiver beeping.
"Don't try to make excuses, Stilinski," Jackson says finally, face morphing into a mix of his usual annoyance and a hint of pity. "We need you on the bridge. A07 went haywire and none of the engineers know what to do."
"Interference?"
"Something. We were hoping you would know."
Stiles glances back at Scott's empty bed. "I'll be there in five."
"You better." Click. The screen goes blank.
Stiles gets to his feet.
They're a few months from home. They left the outpost one month ago. Stiles let out the remnants of his bottled up emotions over several calls to his dad, and now he divides his time between working constantly on the biomes to keep them stable just long enough for delivery and collapsing into bed at the end of the day. It's better than the few days they managed to keep him in the hospital. At least now he can move around and get lost in his work instead of being stuck in a bed with his pain pills and his own imagination.
He thought he'd escaped his imagination.
That hallucination, which he's certain that's what it was, was awfully realistic. He mulls over asking Erica for something stronger as he walks to the bridge. The more detached he feels, the less he worries about recent events. Recent events which he definitely does not think about. Ever.
It's like the whole crew turned up in the bridge, and he can barely squeeze through all of the milling people. He manages, however, after a forceful shove through Greenburg that he can't find himself to regret. Captain Yukimura stands to the side, his daughter and one other woman that Stiles doesn't recognize looking over his shoulder. Jackson and Lydia are arguing in hushed voices in the corner. Isaac and Boyd stand like statues in the far side of the room, both watching Stiles as he pushes his way to the front. Allison disappears behind a flashing screen. One of the techs, Danny, gestures him over as soon as he sees him.
"Hey, Stiles, glad you could make it." His tone is gentle, but he seems rushed and his hand clamps on Stiles' shoulder as soon as he's within reach. Danny steers Stiles over to a monitor to his left and pushes him down in the seat in front of it. "What can you tell me about this?" He taps one of the charts with his nail. Stiles leans forward for a closer look and lets the experience of years of doing this very job take over.
Immediately his mouth starts moving. "Looks like nitrogen is good, but you never filed anything for hydrogen, and other levels are rapidly dropping. There's no outside reports of it either, so it's either still in the biome and the sensors are off. At best you've got a leak in one of the vents and the AI is trying to compensate."
"At worst?"
Stiles shrugs. "It could be anything. I can tell you though, if it isn't a leak in the ventilation, you need to get someone to check the tanks–"
Danny immediately turns to the crowd behind him and calls out orders. He turns back. "Okay, what else?"
"Occupants messing with the panels? I mean, they're easy to find, and if A07 was put there against their will, they probably want to sabotage us."
Danny huffs a laugh. "It's a wonder they haven't done it sooner. Keep looking, I'll get Jack-ass on it."
Normally, Stiles would jump on the chance to come up with more names for Jackson, but it's a combination of this morning and the current situation that keep his mouth clamped shut as he surfs through a few of the channels he hadn't given a cursory glance. Danny notices, mouth twitching into a frown that doesn't escape Stiles' notice, and leaves him to his work. Stiles can hear Jackson round-up his team and the whole room becomes a lot less tense with the absence of so many bodies.
A new file catches his eye. "Someone needs to check the temperature," he mutters.
"What? Why?"
He looks up and Kira Yukimura is leaning over his shoulder. She gives him a sweet smile when she sees him look back. "Sorry, I was just listening."
"No that's fine." He chances a look at Kira's father, who is discreetly watching them while in a conversation with one of the engineers. "I was just saying, the temperature is dropping fast. It doesn't correlate with the changing composition of the atmosphere. It wouldn't be possible unless someone was messing with the sensors. Especially if you take into consideration that there's nowhere for anything to go but to disperse in the biome. I mean, at this point it's definitely sabotage." He looks up to find Kira focused on the screen. "How long ago did the Wranglers leave?"
Kira blinks and refocuses on Stiles. "Barely ten minutes ago, why?"
"The inhabitants of A07 could have been counting on them being there in response."
Lydia and Allison, who had to have been listening, stepped over. "You're saying what?" Lydia asks. "They're going to attack them as soon as they get in."
"Well, uh," Stiles hesitates. "It's the most plausible."
Allison seems to take his side. "Why else would someone sabotage the controls?" She directs it at Lydia, who scowls, which isn't a good look on her, and crosses her arms.
Lydia sighs. "I'll make sure they're aware of possible danger." She says it like she's just admitted defeat. "Stilinski, keep in touch in case they don't find anything. Otherwise, you're free to return to your quarters." She leaves in a flurry of motion, and Kira stays long enough to put a comforting hand on Stiles' shoulder before leaving to follow her. It leaves Stiles alone with Allison.
"I'll walk you back to your room."
Stiles wants to protest that he doesn't need to be escorted, but something in Allison's eyes tell him she needs the company just as much as he does. "Okay."
The walk from the bridge is mostly in silence. It's kind of nice though, the companionable kind where you don't feel alone even then, and Stiles feels a smile tug at his lips before the happy feeling gets replaced with something darker. It's like old times, and that's what hurts the most.
"It still hurts," Allison says, breaking the silence. "Sometimes I wonder if… if I hadn't been so rude the last time I saw him, if it would still hurt like this."
Stiles shakes his head. "It would probably hurt worse." Somehow his voice is steady.
Allison chokes back a strained sound. "I can't imagine, Stiles. I can't imagine what you're going through."
"But you kind of can."
She doesn't say anything for a while. They reach his door, and he keys in the code to open it. She notices the box by the door. "It doesn't feel the same, does it?"
"No, but everyone's set on pretending that it does."
"Maybe they think it'll hurt less."
Stiles shakes his head again. "It won't." Like slowly peeling away a bandage. He doesn't know if the metaphor of ripping it off fits the situation, the thought remains all the same.
Allison surprises him, though, when she pulls him into a tight hug. He can feel her tears as she burrows into his shoulder, but he can't help but feel numb as he wraps his arms around her. "Sometimes I feel like he's still with us."
Stiles thinks back to earlier. "I know."
She gives him one last squeeze then steps away and wipes her eyes on her sleeve. "Thank you." When Stiles doesn't make any move to say anything, she gives him a slight smile. "Goodnight, Stiles."
"Goodnight, Allison." The door slides shut.
He doesn't find sleep again that night.
A/N: As usual, the chapters are also available on AO3. From this point on the action should begin. Thanks for sticking around so long. :)
