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Emma's POV

"Hey there," a soft voice lifted Emma out of her slumber. Her eyelids remained closed, cloaking her vision, allowing her body to only hear his familiar, calming mumbling and to only feel the blanket she was wrapped up in. "Unscheduled wake up call for the cutest girl in the world?" Emma felt a smile tug on the side of her lips, prompting a quiet chuckle to come out from the boy on the other side of the room. "There she is," he said, his smile apparent through his tone. Emma lifted her lids, suddenly staring at a glossy brick-veneered wall across from her. A silhouette moved in her peripheral vision. Emma tilted her neck, nudging the top of her head against the pillow. Stiles sat on a chair facing her, hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees and hands interlaced. He had a half-smirk on his face. The dark circles under his eyes were what Emma noticed next. Despite his clear fatigue, Stiles kept the smile plastered on his face.

"Stiles," Emma happily moaned, shifting her legs to prop up on her elbows.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like a zombie," she sighed.

Stiles chuckled, "Is that why you won't play Walking Dead? You feel discriminated against?" Emma let out a billowy laugh, tossing her head back, loose ends of hair from her misshapen bun falling against her neck. She looked at Stiles again. He had that look he always had after he made her laugh, a mixture of satisfaction and relief.

"Yes," she nodded, "It's not like I'm afraid of animated graphics or anything... it's for personal reasons." Stiles lowly chuckled, standing up and sitting at the end of the bed. He rested his hand on her knee, the blanket blocking an immediate touch. "How are you?" she cocked her head. Stiles replied with a shaky inhale, eyebrows raised and smile disappearing. For a minute, Emma had forgotten where she was and what had happened. For a minute. Now, the reality settled in, the numbing euphoria of sleep had slipped away. She was in a police station. Because her father was missing.

"How'd you get in here?" Emma asked.

"Oh," Stiles quickly took his hand off her leg, "Sorry, I can wait outside if-"

"No, no, I'm just asking because I know… I know you fought with your dad last night because of me. And there's no way you could've snuck into a police station, so-"

"We didn't fight, don't worry," Stiles shook his head with a squint, "I just... turned on the Stilinski charm." Emma chuckled.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah... basically pleaded for my dad to let me wake you." Emma giggled. "I thought- I don't know, I thought you wouldn't want to wake up alone in such a depressing room. It literally smells like old cake all the time in this building." Emma laughed once more, watching his dimples present themselves as he smiled at her.

"Well, thank you. I'm really glad you're here." Stiles licked his lips and looked down at his hand as he tapped his fingers against Emma's kneecap again.

"I'm sorry about what happened, Emma." Emma bit the inside of her cheek.

"You don't have to be, Stiles. I'm okay now."

"Emma, I've been with you long enough to know that you like to pretend you're fine a lot of the time, when you're really not."

"And I've been with you long enough to know you get uncomfortable with too many compliments, do you want me to start talking about how good that t-shirt looks on you?" Emma giggled, trying to lighten the mood, "Really. I'm okay." Stiles let out a small chortle, then bore his hazel eyes into hers. It was strange to see him so serious. He was normally such a goofball. But there was something in him that needed to be said.

"I wish I could make all this shit go away." Emma looked down, watching her chest rise and fall with every breath.

"Could you hug me for a little while?" Stiles quickly moved off the edge of the bed. Emma shuffled against the wall as Stiles sat beside her, the mattress sinking with his weight. He quickly put his arm around her, drawing her closer to him. She rested her head by the side of his neck, his firm shoulder acting as a pillow. His other hand came around, stroking the length of Emma's upper arm. The tip of Emma's nose nudged up against Stiles' neck. She left a small kiss by his collarbone and rested against him. She didn't want him to worry. She didn't want him to feel bad. If she said she was fine, even if it was a lie, it was still better than letting her sadness out and watching him guilt himself for not being able to help. She didn't want anyone to think she was weak. She wasn't a fragile little girl. She knew how to handle tragedy. At least, that's what she hoped.

After a minute of comfortable silence, Emma spoke.

"Stiles? How did you know to come over? Why did you- why did you go inside?"

"I could tell something was wrong over the phone," Stiles quickly responded, "I knew you were gonna talk to your dad about- shit, I'm sorry."

"For what?" Emma cocked her head up. He swore a lot when he was flustered. Emma found it a bit endearing.

"For mentioning him."

Emma sighed, "Stiles, it's okay."

"So, I um, I knew you were gonna talk to him and I figured it'd be difficult so I just wanted to check in. Then, I went over and I knocked and there was no answer… then the cops showed up just out of the blue, so I ran to the back to see if I could get in that way. And I did."

"But, Stiles, you- the cops showing up like that should've made you run in the opposite direction, God knows what could've been in there. Why'd you do that?" Emma prodded into his shoulder then rested on it again.

"I didn't care. All I knew was… you were in there and you were in trouble. And I couldn't let anything happen to you. Because… because I love you." The last words came out in a shaky tone. Emma's stomach dropped with the weight of a bag of rocks. Did Stiles just...? Did he...? Emma kept her head against his shoulder, breathing against the side of his neck. She felt Stiles' dip his head, his jaw brushing against her. For some reason, she felt tears twisting in her throat, trying to crawl out and pool out of her eyes. He loved her. It was incredible hearing it from someone that didn't have to say it. Stiles didn't have to love her, he didn't have to be with her, he didn't have to be sitting in that room with her. But he was. And he loved her. And she knew she loved him.

They sat in silence. Emma drew in a long, deep breath. Just say it back. You know you feel it. She lifted her head off his shoulders and looked up into his dazzling eyes.

He glanced down, "I'm sorry if-"

She interrupted, "I-"

A sudden clout from the other side of the room startled her. She snapped around to watch the door open and see the Sheriff come into the room. He awkwardly looked to his side as Stiles took his arm off of Emma.

"Emma, when you're ready, we- we need to talk." The bliss of Stiles' last words was short-lived. The Sheriff gave a tight-lipped smile and turned, swinging the door behind him. It tapped against the door frame, not fully closing. Emma absentmindedly stared at the door. She felt the weight of Stiles behind her cease, a soft groan slipping out of his lips. Emma turned her head to look up at Stiles. He had the same forced smile his father had, passing her. She waited for him to look back, but he didn't.

"I'll be outside, okay?" he mumbled, digging his hands into his pockets, leaving the room with his head down. The door closed again, leaving her alone in the room. Emma put her face in her hands and groaned. It was too much. It was all too, too much.

After wiping away her tears, Emma changed into the clothes from the night before and made her bed. She left the folded pajamas she was lent on the blanket and slowly opened the door out of the room. The dimly-lit office was cold. Unwelcoming. She paced forward and looked through the windows that oversaw the busy station hallway. She walked out the small office and saw Stiles sitting in one of the chairs that made up a row against the opposite wall. He was staring down at his cellphone, looking utterly dejected. Emma swallowed hard. He must've been so upset. He had the guts to tell her he loved her, then she... she said nothing. Knowing she was the one that put the sadness into his eyes killed her. He looked up, locking his eyes with her. Her heart felt as if it hurled itself against her ribcage. Emma saw someone coming towards her from the corner of her eye and turned. The Sheriff looked back at her.

"Follow me, please." Emma looked at Stiles one last time to see his gaze still fixed on her. She gave him a small smile, which he mirrored. Her stomach fluttered a bit at his captivating smirk. Emma looked back to the Sheriff who was already a few steps ahead of her. She quickly trod behind him. They made their way to the same area as the night before, only this time it was more alive with people all over the place. They went into the same office and sat in the same positions. He spoke, "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," she lied. She immediately thought of her father. If they found him... if he was... alive... he would've been there. Still, she had to ask. "Where's my dad?"

The Sheriff looked down and exhaled. No. No. No. "We, we don't know." Emma felt a small rush of relief. That's better than him being gone forever. He continued, "We'll be putting out a missing person bulletin soon. Now, I want to just go over your statement one last time, alright?"

Emma went over the exact same speech she recited the night before. Lying that she didn't see who came into the house. Lying about almost everything. Finally, the Sheriff finished his last question regarding the statement.

"Now, we've decided that it's best, for your own safety, to not go back home yet." He rubbed his hands together, "That is, not until your father turns up and the identity of the intruder is known. Seeing that it's the weekend and you don't have any school, you're free to spend the day however you'd like. You can stay at the station or if you'd like to go out with a friend of yours to take your mind off of things, that's okay, too." They both knew he was referring to Stiles. He sighed again. He came closer, the stern look he had on his face disappearing. "Emma," now he was speaking to her as a friend, not as a victim, "We're going to work really hard to find your father, okay? He's a good friend of mine and we're determined to find out what happened and who did... what they did. If... if we don't find him by tonight, you're going to have to spend another night in Victim Services, okay?" Emma looked into the man's eyes and nodded.

"Yes, thank you," she pressed her lips together and stifled tears, "Okay." He stood up very quickly. Emma followed him out of the room and paced back into the large hallway. "There are some donuts in the break room if you'd like one," Mr. Stilinski said to her. She smirked at him.

"Thank you."

"I know, I know, it's a stereotype," he chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. They chuckled together. The Sheriff gave her one last reassuring nod and went down the corridor. Emma looked the other direction to see if Stiles was were he was the last time she saw him. He was. Reclined into the chair with his arms crossed and one foot resting on his knee, he sat. Emma walked towards him. He quickly noticed her and abruptly sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Hey," Emma softly spoke.

"Hey, are you okay?" He stood up, his eyes searching her face.

Emma looked down and quickly shook her head, "Can we go do something?" She raised her head as he stepped closer to her. Towering over her, he softly pushed the hair away from her eyes, letting his knuckles brush against her forehead.

"Of course we can," he answered, "Let's go."