Disclaimer: Teen wolf does not belong to me in any way shape or form :(

She lost all feeling in her legs. Funny pins and needles starting seizing her hands. Her vision tunnelling. Seeing them, those people that were all too familiar, felt like she was taking so many steps backwards. All this guilt, all this pain, rushing back to consume her whole.

So she just stood there, limp and barely standing as she was overloaded with those vile voices rushing back to her, screaming one repulsive thing after another, so loud and overbearing she didn't hear Derek trying to console her or coax her back into the car.

She… she loved them all so much, but everything she did to them… that was unforgivable. She felt like she was dying, all those memories returning in red hot flashes. It was unbearable. She shouldn't be here, she should be back in that facility, locked up and drugged up for everyone's protection. Why was she here?

Stiles just watched her slowly break down, like whatever composure she was holding was melting away and he took a few steps forward, wanting to help her, walking down the path of Scott's small front lawn but she seemed to shudder despite not even appearing like she noticed he was moving forward, caught in a world of her own.

"Kayla..." he whispered, his voice cracking with so much raw, uncensored emotion he was at a loss at what else to say. He hadn't seen her in months, and when he had she was a broken lost soul but now she was here – here, back in Beacon Hills, apparently coherent enough to return back home.

He watched her shoulders curl inwards, hunching over in fear and panic like she was being attacked and Derek just glanced at them all hopelessly, shaking his head solemnly.

"I'm sorry, we shouldn't have come here so soon" Derek apologised, "she isn't ready"

"Wait" Stiles thought it was him shouting that out, the words on the tip of his tongue but Derek, across the road, didn't look at him, he glanced behind him and Stiles did the same to see Lydia stumbling down the front steps in a frenzy.

"Don't go" she pleaded, "it's okay… you don't need to leave Kayla"

Kayla peeked up hesitantly from Derek's protective grip around her shoulders, her gaze so broken Stiles almost hunched over in grief.

"We… we want you back home" Lydia continued, her speech so soft and careful, almost like a lullaby, "we've all been waiting"

Stiles didn't need to be an expert to know that Kayla wasn't reacting well to those words, her hands quivering almost like a seizure, her eyes flitting from side to side in panic. She was scared – like a terrified, traumatised deer caught in the middle of a head on collision.

It went hauntingly quiet. No one moving or saying a thing. The only sound was the flickering electric of the street light across the road and Kayla's panicked breathing, her heart rate no doubt pounding a million times a minute. Every single one of them was stuck in this vortex of the unknown, scared to even breathe in case it caused a string of catastrophic events.

Derek carefully, and slowly, released his grip on Kayla's shoulders, stepping out slightly in front of her to speak to his friends, all the while protecting her from whatever threat she thought she was facing.

"She's still recovering with a long way to go" Derek explained, "the rehabilitation is an exhausting process. She's learning everything all over again from scratch. It might just be too much for her right now" he said lowly, "when she's ready, I know where you all will be"

Derek knew they would all be deflated with that, especially one person in particular, but his main focus and priority was Kayla and getting her back as close to the person she once was. She deserved a second chance.

He gave them a sympathetic glance before opening the back door of his car for Kayla to climb in, which she did hastily, almost like a new born Bambi, and shut it as quietly as he could as to not disturb her almost panicked state even more.

"I'm sorry" he added, away from Kayla's hearing ears, "but these last few months have been tough… the amount of guilt she feels is overwhelming. She still needs to recover"

"But-" Stiles was stepping forward, not even sure where his legs would take him or what words would come out of his mouth, a panic like no other seizing his chest, feeling like he was loosing her all over again. What about his heart? What about his state of mind? What if he needed to recover, but only Kayla could help him do that?

He didn't get very far, stumbling to a stop at the end of Scott's front lawn, his back hunching slightly forward in defeat, "just… look after her"

Derek smiled, "I always have, always will"

With the close knit group of friends forced to watch the bright lights of the car disappear around the corner, never to be seen again.

"It's just spectacular" Kayla heard in the distance, although she wasn't paying attention, too focused on staring blandly at the brick wall and inspecting the indents and nooks, her eyes following a maze trail of lines, "I haven't seen this much brain regrowth in such a short space of time. I didn't think it would be possible.

Although her level of understanding had improved from a tea spoon to a small rodent, she was still finding it hard to process things. Words. Mood. Feelings. Temperature. Meanings. Her brain was slow and foggy but she understood the basics.

Her brain was broken before. Badly damaged. Except now it was getting better. Not fully better, but better than before. That's what she understood.

"The average brain can only regenerate a very limited amount. Engenous neural stem cells, as well as numerous pro-regenerative molecules, can participate in replacing and repairing damaged or diseased neurons and glial cells after traumatic brain injury, disease or stroke. But Kayla's CT's and MRI's show a massive 16% brain matter regeneration and regrowth. Her brain is literally knitting itself back together. I've never seen anything like this before"

Was this supposed to be a happy moment? She didn't understand how to feel, but upon looking over at Derek and seeing him smiling at the doctor, she guessed it was a happy moment. People smile when they're happy right?

Then why didn't she feel what people are meant to feel when they're happy? Why did she just feel empty? Like she was spinning through a black hole.

"It'll be the supernatural part of us" Derek nodded, "although I always thought healing the brain was so much more complicated. I haven't heard of it happening this quickly"

"It's amazing" Doctor Noble was excited, his arms flailing every which way, "I have so much to learn through these scans, it truly is remarkable"

She didn't care to listen to this conversation any more, turning her head the other way and staring back at the wall. It gave her something to do, something to preoccupy herself with. It was exhausting trying to keep up with people. It was too much hard work.

She was snapped violently from her staring by a gentle, yet imposing, hand on her shoulder, resisting running the other way and turned around quickly, coming face to face with Derek's apologetic expression.

"Sorry Kay" he said softly, "did you hear what the doctor said?"

Hear? Yes, she listened to his words for the most part but did she understand them? She didn't know.

Derek must've seen her confused and blank expression, that was the norm these days, and encouraged her to sit on the sofa and he perched himself next to her, taking a hold of one of her hands in both of his.

"The doc said your head is getting better. It's slow, but it's getting better. So we have to keep going with the rehab… remember, the physio and speech therapy? And keep taking all those tablets"

How could she forget? Everyday Derek made her contort her body in strange ways to "build muscle" and, especially in her legs that, these days, looked like twigs. And spent hours teaching her words again, trying to get her to pronounce them properly through her selective mutism and stutter. It was difficult, and she hadn't come that far with her speech, but Derek was determined to get her speaking.

The tablets she hated just as much. Every morning, afternoon and night she had tablets in varying sizes to swallow, making her almost regurgitate them back up. But Derek sat with her the whole time, with the patience of a saint.

She knew Derek wanted a reaction to his words, but she didn't know the appropriate way to respond. His words didn't change the way she felt. She didn't feel like she was experiencing 'happiness', but maybe she was. Maybe she wasn't. She didn't know.

She forced what she knew now was a small smile on her face, not saying anything.

"You're getting better" Derek was hopeful, cupping her cheek, "you're so strong Kay, I'm so proud of you"

She didn't want to cause trouble, to make Derek upset or confused so just nodded, the best non verbal communication she knew these days. It was easier to agree. She learnt to either go along with things or just agree.

Same with the voices she still heard.

They could be so horrible, but she had learnt to not react. It was too exhausting to react to something that she knew was right.

If this is what recovery was like, Kayla wasn't even sure she wanted to recover. It seemed pointless. She would never be the same again. People would resent her, hate her, look at her like she was a monster, so what was the point? She didn't see any point. She was exhausted. Being dead wasn't this hard. In retrospect it was easy – minus the hell part. Her time was up. It was fate – called out before she even knew where life was taking her. Meredith knew it. She felt it months, years before it happened. Her red string had been cut. She wasn't meant to be here. Is that why she felt so out of place? So… unnatural? She should've just stayed dead.

"Kay?"

She glanced out, pulling herself from her miserable, slow thinking and met Derek's gaze, "sorry, it's medication time"

Again. It was medication time again. Names too complicated for Kayla to even think, let alone pronounce. Dosing her up to keep her sane. But she sat there all the same and let Derek feed her the pills.

At least one of them had hope.

School was starting soon. Senior year. The most important year yet. Stiles had always looked forward to planning his life outwith school. Him and his friends being their best selves, staying together like the best friends they were. He should be happy having made it this far, despite everything he had been through.

Except he wasn't.

Things weren't the same. Not since that awful night with the nogitsune. It destroyed them all. They tried to move on, but that night still hung over their heads.

Two weeks till senior year, and he just felt like crap.

A short knock sounded at his front door and he groaned, throwing the pillow that was covering his face and blocking out the receding light away, pulling his aching body off the bed to peer out the window.

It was Lydia.

Although slightly unexpected, it wasn't all that unusual. Lydia liked to check up on him privately from time to time, and she was a good listener. Despite their ups and downs, they had a solid friendship now. They had been through too much together not to.

He hopped down the stairs, opening the door wide to reveal Lydia wrapped in a wool coat, "evening" he greeted, giving her a small smile.

She frowned at his clothing attire, a scraggly pair of bed shorts and an old tee, "you look awful"

"Wow thanks" he smiled, "much appreciated"

Lydia rolled her eyes and brushed past him, her long wavy strawberry blonde hair whipping his shoulder and wafting the scent of vanilla up his nostrils and it was nice and feminine – something he wasn't used to now.

"There's only two weeks left of summer break – you need to do something more… fun. Interesting"

"I… I do fun stuff. Interesting" he insisted, much to Lydia's disbelieving look, "I… I go to the pictures. I help my dad. I… I eat"

"Amazing" Lydia dead panned, "eat crap most likely"

"Why are you suddenly so interested in my diet?"

Lydia sighed, "your worrying about Kayla is detrimental to you" she observed, "Kayla's alive and getting the help she needs. Don't put your life on hold"

Apart from that one five minute encounter outside Scott's house, Stiles hadn't seen her in months. It was hard. He just wanted to see her, to help her. That's all.

"I know" he sighed, leading the way to the sitting room and throwing himself down on the sofa, "but she's on my mind constantly – she's across town and there's nothing I can do to help"

"She needs space" Lydia said softly, sitting down next to him and placing a perfectly manicured hand on his knee, "I can't imagine how she can even begin to process what she went through. Dying was bad enough, but the torment.. the resurrection, the terror filled rampage she went on… the attack..." Lydia's eyes flitted downwards, shaking her head, "it's too much for her. She needs to feel better before she can see us. I understand that"

Stiles did too, and maybe he was being selfish, but he… he missed her. So damn much.

"What if she never gets better?"

Stiles asked the question that had been on his mind for weeks – months now. What if she was just permanently broken?

"It's a possibility" Lydia admitted, "if not emotionally, then physically. The… the trauma to her brain could well be permanent, but we don't know that yet. We don't know yet, so let's not worry about it until it becomes a reality okay?"

Stiles sighed, half accepting that statement but still worrying like mad – his brain filling with hundreds of 'what if's'

"She wanted to stay dead" Stiles whispered, "she would rather have stayed dead and in hell than come back and do this, go through what she has. Sometimes I wish she had"

"Me too" Lydia admitted, "because this is her hell now. But we can make it better for her, I fully believe that"

Their little heart to heart was interrupted by another quiet, very subtle knock on the oak door, so gentle they both almost missed it.

"Was that…?" Stiles indicated his head towards the front door.

Lydia shrugged, "I think so. Unless you have rats"

Stiles almost chuckled at that, pulling his lethargic, aching body off the sofa again and not so stealthily made his way to the front door.

"I can assure you, rats would be the least of my worr-"

Whatever sentence he was going to come out with, whatever words were going to be turned into something semi humorous, completely died in the back of his throat. He was still in shock, not daring to make a move in case he was having some kind of delusional vision – a vision he didn't want to disappear.

Standing there, on his doorstep, was a visibly shaken and tired looking Kayla. Her once shoulder length dark blonde hair was now faded back to it's original chestnut brown, reaching down past her collar bones. It was dull though, not bright and shiny like usual. More frayed at the ends and frizzy, but that was to be expected. Recovery may not involve a cut and blowdry. She wasn't as deathly thin as she was when he saw her last her but still slim. Her clothes hanging off her a little too much, but she looked much healthier than before, her skin not yellow and sallow but pale, dark marks smudged under her eyes – eyes that held fear and trauma, but bravely didn't waver from Stiles' surprised gaze.

His mouth went uncomfortably dry, shocked to the core at the sight in front of him.

"K… Kayla..." he stuttered, "You… y-you're… here..."

She went to open her mouth and Stiles couldn't wait to hear that beautiful tone leave her lips, eager to finally hear her speak instead of screaming or crying but instead, after a few seconds, she let her mouth close, her bottom lip wobbling slightly.

That was right – she was struggling with speech. Maybe he would never hear that beautiful tone again.

He heard shuffling behind him, a surprised and frantic Lydia coming to stand next to him and stare at Kayla in complete awe.

"Honey..." Lydia whispered, a relieved smiled crossing her face, "it's okay, take your time"

Kayla was looking panicked but managed to stand her ground, her nervous fingers toying with the end of her black jumper sleeve, her fingernails bitten down and wrecked but she opened her mouth again, determined to tell them what was on her mind.

"I…" Even just that one lettered word made Stiles want to cry. Kayla was becoming Kayla again – oh, how he had missed her. Her voice immediately soothed him, all his sadness and worry draining away.

"I… I…" she was trying so hard, they knew that. The words coming out intermittently and slow, like she was struggling to grasp how her mouth framed the words, "… I..."

It broke his heart all over again, seeing her so much better than before but still just as broken.

"I… I… a-am…"

She was getting closer, he knew it, but he also sensed her frustration and embarrassment and wanted to reach out to hug and soothe her, but she was already so delicate and raw he couldn't risk scaring her even more.

"…S-S… Sor..."

She sighed heavily, the droplets of tears forming on her eyelashes as she tried so damn hard to speak – to own and face her past and problems, all the terrible mistakes she had done. She needed to own them, she needed to apologise.

With one little tear breaking free and trailing down her cheek, she steadily met their gazes, mustering up every ounce of determination and strength she had.

"I-I… I… am… a-am s-s-s-s… s-sorry" her voice sounded funny and meek, not at all like her previous confident self, "s-sorry… s-s-sor-s-sorry"

"… We forgive you" Stiles whispered, "it's okay Kaylz..."

No, no, no, no, no. She wasn't wanting forgiveness. She didn't want nor expect that, she just needed them to know how whole heartedly sorry and guilty she felt.

She shook her head in panic as Lydia smiled, "we just want you better Kayla. We forgive you"

She started panicking, murmuring the only word she knew very well.

"N-no, no, n...no, n-no, no, no, no, n-no, n...n...no, no, n-no-"

Stiles took the plunge and reached out for her frail, sore hands and took them in his grasp, her startled stare meeting his.

"You need to forgive yourself" Stiles said, "everything that happened… it-" what? Wasn't her fault? Well it was, partly. But it was a trauma response. She went through so damn much, how could anyone fully blame her?

"It needs to be moved on from" he continued, "you're not going to get better if you don't learn to forgive yourself and move past it"

She started gnawing on her lip, so scared and broken like an abused animal.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry" she gasped, "s-s-so-sorry"

That was all the words she spoke, gasping out in-between panicked breaths.

Recovery still had a long way to go.

A/N I knowwwww it took me ages butttttt look another chapter – YAY. I will honestly never give up on this, it's my baby so expect more soon haha

so please please please leave your thoughts below, it fuels me to write more and I really need the motivation and would appreciate it so so much thank you :)