Stiles jerked awake, biting his pillow to stifle the scream that had been half way up his throat, forcing himself to swallow the noise. Long years of practice meant that Stiles had learned how to avoid screaming in his sleep. Even before he and Sara had been taken in by the League he'd been perfecting the technique, cautious about aggravating Slade and triggering the older man's short temper.
Stiles had long ago lost track of how many times he'd woken up like this after one of his nightmares…reliving the moment when he'd plunged the katana in Scott's body, the look on his best friend's face. Then Scott had morphed into Allison, a trickle of blood running down her chin as she slid to the ground, wide eyes looking up at him in fear.
"Why, Stiles," she'd asked, just like she always did in his dreams. Everyone asked him the same question, "why weren't you strong enough to beat him? To keep him out? Why did you let him in? It's your fault Stiles."
They all haunted his dreams, Allison and Scott, Derek, Lydia, his dad, Melissa, Aidan and Ethan, Erica and Boyd, Isaac and Kira, Danny, Deaton, the faceless men and women who had been killed during the Nogitsune's time in Beacon Hills.
Looking across at the couch, Stiles was relieved to find that Jackson was still asleep; his mouth hanging open as he quietly snored. Once upon a time, back before his world went to hell, Stiles would have cracked a joke about how stupid Jackson looked, or he would have deliberately woken up the sleeping man, or attempted some other form of prank, but Stiles couldn't bring himself to do it now. Jackson had, after all, stayed with him during the night, checking that Stiles was lucid by waking him up and asking him a few questions every few hours. It had been late when they'd gone to bed, and combined with the emotionally draining conversation they'd had before sleeping, and the broken night's sleep they'd both had it was no surprise that Jackson was still asleep.
A glance at his watch told Stiles that it was not even six o'clock in the morning, and he groaned. He was still adapting to the time difference between Nanda Parbat and Starling City, although ever since he had joined the league had had become an early riser. You had to be when you weren't very strong physically, and you hadn't earned the respect of the other members of the league. When you were asleep you were vulnerable and Stiles had learned very early on that some of the other members of the league took special delight in inflicting early morning torture sessions on the smaller and newer recruits.
Getting up early had been the best way to avoid being targeted, especially as Stiles had discovered that he was generally faster than most of the league. No-one had gone anywhere near Stiles with the intent of causing him harm (outside of training) for years, not since he became a favorite of Ra's, but it had been a hard habit to break.
Still, it had been a long night, and Stiles would have preferred a few more hours of sleep before he woke up. Still…Stiles had never been very good at going back to sleep once he had woken up, so he grabbed a clean change of clothes out of his duffle bag and headed for the bathroom for a shower.
Once he was clean, dry and dressed, Stiles left the bathroom and sat on the bed, glancing at the couch where Jackson lay curiously.
He hadn't expected to find Jackson in Starling City of all places, especially with an assumed identity, living in the glades and working alongside Oliver. It was obvious that neither Oliver, nor his team knew that Jackson was a werewolf, and yet it looked like they'd been working together for awhile, if the way Jackson regarded Oliver was anything to go by.
Oliver might not look it, or act like it, but Stiles knew how clever the older man was. Sure, maybe he wasn't a math whiz like Lydia was, or a genius hacker like Danny, but Stiles had lived alongside Oliver to know that Oliver was highly intelligent in his own unique way. Jackson must have gotten very good at hiding his inner werewolf to keep something like that a secret from Oliver. Stiles was privately impressed of how good at covering it up Jackson was, but he'd never admit it out loud. It was Jackson after all. Stiles did have a reputation to maintain
TW/A
Oliver dropped silently down from the lowest rung on the salmon ladder, landing in a crouch on the mats beneath the apparatus. He rose out of the crouch, reaching for a towel to wipe the sweat from his hands and arms as he turned towards the staircase, smiling when he saw Diggle, Sara and Felicity coming down the stairs towards him. Thankfully it was a Saturday, and nobody needed to be at work today. Oliver honestly didn't expect Roy and Stiles to get to the basement until later, willing to bet that they had stayed up late catching up with one another. With Stiles' probable concussion they would have had a disturbed night sleep anyway, with Roy needing to wake Stiles up every hour or so to check how lucid the other man was. They both deserved the chance to sleep in and get away from their lives as vigilantes after all.
"How did everyone sleep last night?" Felicity asked. Diggle gave Felicity a slightly surprised look.
'You really asking that?' he asked.
Felicity blinked, and smiled weakly, "Yeah…stupid question…never mind."
"Have any of you heard from Roy or Stiles?" Oliver asked the assembled members of the team. Diggle and Felicity shook their heads.
"I went past Stiles' hotel room on my way here and had a peek in the window…They were both sound asleep by the looks of it."
Diggle's eyebrows shot up, and he looked at Sara in shock.
Sara blinked, before she rolled her eyes, "Not together. Roy was on the couch and Stiles was stretched out on the bed. I'm pretty sure Roy is straight."
"What about Stiles?" Felicity asked. Sara and Oliver looked at one another, both of them shrugging.
"Stiles figured out he was bi when we were on the Island, although he's never acted on it, as far as I know." Oliver offered.
"I kind of suspected he was bi for awhile before that…probably since he was about fourteen or thereabouts," Sara admitted with a shrug, "Laurel and I had a bet on how long it would take him to realize."
"They'll be fine where they are for the moment," Oliver shrugged.
Felicity set her bag down and dropped gratefully into her chair, "I couldn't believe that Roy hid so much of himself, I mean…it's not like any of us share a great deal about our past…but he has this whole other identity…whole other family, that we probably would never have found out about if Stiles hadn't called in to visit Starling City…although from what I read in the missing person's report for Jackson Whittemore it's noted that Jackson wasn't very close to his adopted parents. It's how they realized that he'd been kidnapped when Stiles kidnapped him in their Sophomore year…somebody sent the Whittemores a message off Jackson's phone pretending to be Jackson and telling them all was fine…and they put I love you at the end. Apparently Jackson hadn't said that since he was seven and they told him he was adopted."
Diggle's eyebrows rose in shock, "he hadn't told his parents that he loved them in that long?"
"Yeah…and it sounded like things didn't improve a great deal after the kidnapping either," Felicity confirmed, powering up the screens and her tablet so she could bring up the reports and information.
"Several of Jackson Whittemore's teachers, both in London and in Beacon Hills, commented that he had anger issues…he was borderline obsessed with being perfect…being number one…not academically, but on the sporting field…Lacrosse specifically…and that brings back bad ex stalker boyfriend memories…ugh."
"Stiles used to talk about playing Lacrosse," Oliver ventured thoughtfully, "he used to joke that his position was as benchwarmer."
Felicity powered on her computer, plugging in her tablet and tapping at the keyboard in front of her, until three photos, obviously from the Beacon Hills High School Yearbook from Roy and Stiles' Sophomore year, appeared on the screens in front of her. The first, largest photo, was a team photo, with the names of every team member in the photo's caption. Immediately they all spotted both Roy and Stiles, positioned away from one another, and years younger than what they were now, but still unmistakable.
The second photo was another whole team photo, but this time the smiles seemed a little less forced. Every member of the team had a medal around their necks, and Roy and another boy were clutching a trophy between them.
The third photo was of a smaller group of only five. Roy and Stiles were both in it, and the trophy from the second photo was featured as well. Roy held onto one side of the trophy, looking pleased, but at the same time, relaxed, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The boy on Roy's right in the photo was holding onto the other side of the trophy, beaming happily at the camera, although Oliver could tell that it was a mask. The teenagers eyes betrayed the fact that all was not well in his life at that moment.
Stiles was on the other side of the boy, his face marked with partially healed cuts and bruises, although the smile on his face was genuine. In Stiles' hands was another trophy, his thin, pale fingers clutching it proudly. Both Stiles and Roy had another boy beside them on the outside, and both of the boys there were the ones who looked, genuinely, the happiest. The caption gave the names of all of the boys, working from left to right…Isaac Lahey, Stiles Stilinski (MVP), Scott McCall (Co-Captain), Jackson Whittemore (Co-Captain), Danny Mahealani (Goalie).
Another click brought up the article from the yearbook, proclaiming that the Beacon Hills Cyclones had won the state championship of Lacrosse that year, the trophy being presented to the team at a special assembly instead of immediately after the game due to circumstances that weren't specified in the article. In the same article it was reported that Stiles Stilinski was awarded the Most Valuable Player in the final trophy at the same assembly, due to his outstanding performance in the final.
"I remember Stiles' dad calling my dad and telling him about that game. It was the first time Stiles had actually played during a game. He was so proud about it all." Sara told them, and Oliver swallowed, all of them knowing that it would also have been the last time Stiles…and probably Roy as well, had played Lacrosse for their high school. According to the article the Lacrosse season began in January and by the time January had rolled around again Stiles had already been on Lian Yu for weeks, and Roy had probably begun to make preparations for leaving Beacon Hills, and his whole life as Jackson Whittemore, behind.
"They look so young in those photos," Felicity observed thoughtfully.
"They're supposed to, they were kids back then."
"And yet less than a year later Stiles was on the Island with me, and Roy had left everything behind to make a new life for himself, alone." Oliver growled at the unfairness of it all.
"At least Stiles looks…healthy and happy…here." Sara offered, "Whatever screwed him up in the head…it was after this."
"He still looks pretty banged up though…you know what caused it?" Diggle asked
"Apparently a couple of the guys on the other team took exception to Stiles playing so well, and they kidnapped him after the game and beat him up, from what I remember Stiles' dad telling my dad," Sara replied, "but Stiles never said who exactly, and no-one could convince him to press charges, so nothing ever got done about it, even though his dad was the Sherriff."
"Roy looks, I don't know…relieved in this, but at the same time…I don't know…off?" Ventured Felicity thoughtfully. Oliver studied the photograph again, and conceded that Felicity was right. There was something in Roy's stance…the way he was smiling. Oliver didn't know Roy as well as he knew Diggle, or Sara, or even Stiles, but it was obvious that something had been bothering the younger man back when the photo was taken.
"The question is…" Sara began "what we are going to do about it now."
"Who says we need to do anything? You said yourself that Stiles wasn't a threat to us." Oliver reminded Sara, who rolled her eyes.
"Oliver…you know what I mean. Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean Roy and Stiles do as well."
"Ohh…nice pop culture reference," Felicity congratulated Sara.
"Thank you," Sara replied. Oliver glared at them both.
"Felicity…Sara…can we please get back on topic." He hissed.
"Sending them off together was a good start…it might be all we need to do." Diggle offered thoughtfully, "I don't know much about what Stiles was like on the island, but Roy might be all it takes."
Oliver sighed and braced his weight on the back of Felicity's chair, his head bowed.
"I hope so," he told the group.
