Chapter 18

Stiles opened her eyes slowly, her senses going into overdrive. Her world was upside down. Literally. The Jeep was lying on its roof, leaving Stiles from her seat, strapped in by her belt. She could feel a trickle of blood running up her face, dripping on the roof. As her senses returned, she became aware of an intense pain in her left arm and ankle, where the car had slammed into her side of the Jeep. She tried to lift her head up and look around, but it was too difficult while she was still stuck in her seat.

"Stiles," she heard her name. She turned her head to see Malia crouching beside her outside of the car.

"Malia?" she said with relief. At least one of her friends was okay.

"Just stay there, okay? An ambulance is on its way."

"Where's Scott? Kira? Are they hurt?"

"We're fine, everything's fine."

Stiles suddenly remembered. Her baby. Her hand flew to her stomach. She didn't feel any pain, which was good, right?

"My baby," she said, beginning to panic. What if there was something wrong?

"I think it's okay," Malia told her.

"How do you know?"

"I just do. Trust me."

Stiles heard sirens. An ambulance and a police car had arrived. The paramedics quickly set about pulling Stiles gently out of the wreck and lifting her onto a stretcher. All the movement worsened the pain in her arm and leg and she had to grit her teeth to stop herself from screaming. Scott, Kira, and Malia were examined by the paramedics. They were obviously okay, just a few scratches and bruises, which naturally confused the officers. As Stiles was lifted into the ambulance, she heard the police officer taking their statement.

On the way to the hospital, Stiles told the paramedic tending to her that she was 9 weeks pregnant. She didn't want them giving her any drugs or doing anything that might hurt the baby. Melissa was waiting in the emergency room for them when they arrived at the hospital. She and the doctor tended to her scratches, which there were an abundance of. She had to get stitches under her ear, on her bicep, and hip. She also had a concussion, 2 broken ribs, and severe whiplash. Her entire body was X-Rayed. They assured her the level of radiation exposure would not do any harm to the baby. The scans show her left ankle was completely broken and her left wrist was fractured. After they had put her ankle and wrist in a cast and cleaned her up, she was put in a private room. The doctor left her alone with Melissa to rest.

"So I guess you heard?" Stiles asked as awkward silence filled the air.

"Yes, I did," Melissa admitted. "What does your father think of it?"

"He doesn't know yet."

Melissa raised her eyebrows.

"You should probably tell him then, he's on his way."

She gave Stiles some alone time before the Sheriff arrived. She mentally prepared herself, which was hard considering they gave her painkillers that were dulling her cognition and senses. She tried to formulate a speech in her head of what she would say to him, something she had been trying to do ever since she found out she was pregnant. She didn't have much time before her father burst in the door, his eyes red and his body sweaty. He was clearly dishevelled.

"Stiles! Are you okay?" he asked, glancing over her broken body. She must have looked awful.

"I'm… alive," she said. Her usual carefree attitude was gone. She was in too much emotional and physical pain to wear her 'everything's fine' façade.

"I just stopped by at the crash, the Jeep looks totalled."

"I know," she sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, whoever hit you drove through a red light, they're to blame. We'll catch them."

"What?" she tried to remember what happened after the Jeep was hit. Where did the other car go? Was it still there when the ambulance came?

"Yeah, the low-lives bailed and left their car behind," he told her.

"Oh."

"I'm just glad you're alive," he said, kissing her on the forehead. It hurt slightly but she didn't show it. The Sheriff pulled up a chair to the bedside and sat down, holding her hand. She knew she couldn't lie to him any longer.

"Dad, there's something I need to tell you. I can't put it off anymore," she began.

"You can tell me anything, Stiles."

She took a deep breath and swallowed her fear.

"I've been keeping something from you for a while now, because I didn't want you to know until after graduation. But you need to know," she said. "I'm pregnant, Dad."

He let go of her hand.

"Pregnant?"

"Yes."

"You were just in a car crash. You hurt your head."

"Yes but – "

"I'm getting the doctor," he said, ignoring her. She tried to object but he wouldn't listen. He called in the doctor, who confirmed what Stiles had said and reassured them that the baby was fine. When the doctor left, her Dad stood by the doorway for the longest time, leaning against the frame. The silence was killing Stiles.

"I'm so sorry," she cried. He looked at her, shook his head, and then left the room, leaving her alone to cry herself to sleep. When Stiles awoke, she was in a world of pain. Every inch of her body ached and burned, though her ankle was probably the worst. Tears instantly streamed down her face and she groaned in agony. She felt a hand touch hers and the pain went away. She looked up to see Scott sitting beside her, gripping her arm.

…

She stayed in hospital for five days, to monitor her concussion and the baby and all of her wounds. Her Dad didn't come back to visit, but Melissa told her he'd been asking if she was okay. At least that was something. When she was finally discharged, she went to stay at Scott's house so Melissa could help take of her. She couldn't shower and she needed someone to help bathe her. She was relieved that she was alive and her baby was safe, but she was majorly depressed otherwise. School was over and Scott worked at the clinic most days so she was often alone. She didn't feel like playing Xbox and spent most of her time reading baby books or sleeping. Melissa helped ease her morning sickness slightly so she wasn't throwing up as much, but it was still pretty bad. Kira, Malia, Lydia, and even Liam came to visit her all the time. She didn't hear from Derek. She wondered if he had found out somehow and had left. She was too exhausted to care. Her friends didn't ask her about the pregnancy unless she voluntarily spoke about it.

After three weeks had passed, Stiles had to go back to the hospital for an ultrasound. She was now 12 and a half weeks along, so she'd passed through the first trimester. Melissa and Scott went with her, but when they arrived, the Sheriff was sitting in the waiting room. He had a pain look on his face, as if he hadn't slept in a long time. His eyes filled up tears when he saw Scott pushing her in the wheelchair, which she need because her broken wrist and ribs made it difficult to use crutches.

"Hi, Stiles," he said.

"Hi, Dad."

"I'm sorry," he continued. "I just needed some time to think and clear my head."

"It's okay. I'm glad you're here," she smiled, crying.

When the sonographer called them in, Scott and Melissa remained in the waiting room and her Dad went in with her.

"It's been a long time since I've been to one of these," he said as the sonographer squirted the cool gel on Stiles' stomach. They watched the screen eagerly as the sonographer pointed out the baby. Head, arms, legs. They listened to the flutter of its heartbeat.

"That's a very healthy heart," the sonographer said. "You're taking good care of your baby, Miss Stilinski."

After they got the all clear, Stiles was given a printed picture of her baby. The Sheriff agreed that it was probably best for Stiles to stay at the McCall's while she still had her ankle and wrist in a cast. It would be a bit awkward if her Dad had to bathe his 18-year-old daughter. That afternoon, Stiles went home to get some more of her clothes and belongings and had dinner with her Dad. Afterwards, he took her back to the McCall's. Melissa bathed her and helped her into bed in the spare room, which had been Isaac's old room. It was small and the bed was squeaky, but Stiles was grateful for the help.

Not long after she had fallen asleep, she heard the floorboards creaking near bear and instantly froze. Someone was in the room. She began to panic. They hadn't caught whoever crashed into the side of her Jeep yet. What if that hadn't been an accident? She slowly and painfully sat up and reached under the bed where her trusty aluminium baseball what was. She knew that she was practically defenceless, but she wasn't going down without a fight. Scott was at Kira's that night so he couldn't protect her. Bat in hand; she used her casted arm to turn on the lamp, revealing her intruder in the light. Only it wasn't an intruder. It was Derek Hale. Stiles felt sick to her stomach. She was not prepared for this.

Derek sat on the bed beside her and stroked her face gently. Stiles was a little surprised.

"I came as soon as I heard," he said. "How are you? Are you okay?"

She was suspicious. "Heard what?" she asked.

"About the crash," he told her.

"You didn't know? Have you been living under a rock?" she hissed. She was feeling rather defensive for some reason. Hormones, probably.

"I told you I was going to visit Cora in South America. There's no reception where she lives, I had no way of knowing," he informed her.

"I don't remember you telling me that."

"I left a few days before your graduation."

"Well… good for you." She tried to fold her arms across her chest but it didn't really work with her thick cast. Derek frowned at her, the sort of way he used to look at her when they hated each other, back before he let his walls down for her.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked, his voice flat.

"Not mad. Just pissed off. You never seem to be around when something bad happens, but when the dust settles you just bat your pretty eyes at me and apologise and feel sorry for me and then everything is just a-okay," she snapped. She saw him clench his jaw and he stood up. He walked over to the other side of the room.

"What do you want from, Stiles?" he said. "I've made it very clear I'm not interested in anything romantic."

"I know!"

"Then what's the problem? I came here – as a friend – to see if you were alright. I'm sorry if I've hurt your feelings." Stiles didn't say anything. Derek leaned against the chest of drawers behind him.

"Maybe it's best if we don't do whatever this anymore," he suggested.

"Fine," Stiles agreed.

"I'll leave then."

As he pushed himself off the drawers, a piece of paper he had been leaning on flittered to the floor. He picked it up and his paled when he glanced at it. Stiles leaned over and saw it was the ultrasound picture of the baby. She almost fainted.

He stared at the photo for a long time before turning to Stiles.

"What's this?" he asked, his voice incredibly low, almost a whisper. Stiles was too scared to speak, he was scaring her. He waited a bit longer for her to say something, though she didn't.

"Is this yours?" he continued. She nodded slightly. He looked at the photo again.

"You're pregnant," it wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Yes," she squeaked. He kept looking at the picture in his hand.

"And it's mine."

"Yes."

He carefully placed the picture back on the drawers and spoke with his back to her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he growled, his voice threatening. Now she was really scared.

"There just never seemed to be a good time," she mumbled. He turned around, his face red with rage.

"Never a good time? There have been plenty of times when you could have told me you were pregnant with my child."

"I didn't think you'd want anything to do with me or it anyway. I wanted to wait until after graduation to tell anyone, and then the car crash happened and you weren't here and my Dad was mad at me," she explained. "I'm just so tired and sick all of the time and I thought that would go away after the first trimester but it hasn't got any better. I didn't want to have to deal with us."

"The first trimester? How far along are you?" he demanded.

"Twelve and a half weeks."

He clenched his fists by his side, and Stiles shrunk back in the bed.

"I can't believe this!" he yelled.

"I'm sorry, okay!?" she yelled back, though it hurt her ribs. She winced in pain and clutched at her side, feeling the burn. Derek hesitated, then tried to hold her arm to help take away the pain, but she pushed his hand away.

"Just go," she groaned. "I don't want your help. I can do this by myself."

She rolled over on her side so she was facing the wall, away from him. She could still hear him in the room. Eventually, he left. As soon as he did, she began to cry. Cry because she was in physical pain, and mainly because she was scared. She was a teenager about to raise Derek's werewolf baby all by herself with no job and no money.

In that moment, the only thing she wanted in the world was the thing that was unreachable. Her mother.