Stiles can't hear Derek's heartbeat as clearly anymore. He's somewhere downstairs. Stiles sighs and sits up in bed. His eyes are red and swollen. He pulls the blanket up around him and over his head, so he looks like a marshmallow with a puffy red face. He should really try to stand up, but he feels too weak. His whole body aches! His back feels like he's been struck with a baseball bat and his stomach… His stomach feels like he's been shot with a wolfs bane arrow…

He sits there on the bed in a daze for the next hour. His eyes focus on nothing at all. Stiles just sits there and tries to keep breathing. At three o'clock he finally gives in and stands up. The wood floors feel cold against his feet. He slowly drags himself over to his laptop and turns it on. At midnight, the screen's glow continues to light up the room. The eerie blue glow makes Stiles' eyes look even more blank and hollow.

Stiles reads and reads. Even though he's a guy and a werewolf, most things about miscarriage still apply. He reads everything. He absorbs it all into his knowledge bank and stores it away. Maybe if he learns everything that's out there he'll be able to forget how much his heart hurts.

He stands and walks around the room like an apparition. He haunts the dark room. Stiles feels weightless, like he's not even real. It's as if he would float away into nothingness if his heart weren't weighing him down. He wishes he would just disappear. It would be so much easier if he hadn't called Chris. He wishes now that he had just laid there. Let all the blood seep out of his body. Give into the blackness.

If he had… if he had died, it would have killed his dad. Walking in and finding him, he would have had a heart attack. Then, Derek would have come in and found the both of them. It would have killed him, too. He would be alone again, and he would have completely given up. And Laura, his precious girl… Ok, so maybe Stiles is happy he didn't die, but that still doesn't help with the pain of losing his child.

Even with all his research he doesn't feel any better. At about two a.m. he shuffles back over to the bed and lies down. He sees the arrow and the blood every time he closes his eyes. It's horrible. Now he'll associate his dad's dining room floor with losing his child for the rest of his life. Perfect.

He finally drifts off to sleep when the clock nears four thirty. It's not a sound sleep, and he wakes up in a panic multiple times. He keeps looking for Derek beside him, but he isn't there. He's finally giving him the space he had asked for. It's lonely in the bedroom all by himself, but, honestly, he could be surrounded by a hundred people and still feel completely alone right now.

He groans and sits up in bed. Miserable. Yeah, miserable is definitely the best word to describe him right now. Once again, he stands up. He doesn't move for a while, just stands there. He walks over to the window and peers out into the night, err, morning. He sits down in front of the window and rests his head on the glass. Tired and emotionally beaten, he allows himself cry once again.