A/N: Sorry it's been a few days, but my class has been surprisingly difficult. I'll try and post more consistently when this last week of finals is over.

Enjoy.

"Let me tell you, it is good to see you." Melissa greets him as he's pulled from the back of the transport van.

Her voice is calm and familiar and instantly makes him feel better, like a mother's. Stiles allows his fingers to detach from Derek who steps back and Melissa takes his place, holding his hand and pressing it to her lips.

"How about you never get kidnapped again, alright? I missed you." She gives a chuckle that's meant to be humorous but instead is just covering the thickness in her throat at seeing Stiles lying there looking so broken. "Now, let's get you settled so you can sleep and heal up."

As she wheels him into the hospital she addresses his dad and Derek, "You two need to go home, take a shower, get something to eat, and go to bed. You both look like you're two hobos about to drop."

"There are showers and food here, I'm staying with him." His father says immediately with a hint of urgency.

She heaves a small, resigned breath. "Fine, but in the morning you're going home and grabbing new clothes. I doubt you've washed those since you left. Derek, you go home. I'll call you if anything happens before morning visiting hours."

"I, uh, I also want to stay." Derek says but Melissa just clicks her tongue at him.

"I know you do but you need to go home. He'll start developing a dependency on you if you're constantly there which, while it's good for someone in his situation to be comforted, it'll be a hindrance in the long run. Noah is his father so it's different. Come back in the morning."

The way she says it is so matter of fact, as if she's seen it before, so Derek eventually concedes.

"I'll be back in the morning Stiles. If you need me just tell the Sheriff or Melissa and I'll be here as soon as I can."

Stiles nods and feels the brush of fingertips across his cheek before Derek is walking away. There's a small part of him that panics as Derek walks away but he's got Melissa and his dad here right now so he focuses on them, on their familiar voices and scents and touches.

They're real and he's safe.

They get him settled in a small, familiar room and while he still hates hospitals, it's better to be in a familiar one in his home town than one that's hundreds of miles away in an unfamiliar state with unfamiliar people. Once he's comfortable and hooked up to the monitors and given fluids, medication, and a form of liquid sustenance Stiles allows himself to relax into the bed, his hand held by his father. It doesn't take long for him to fall into an exhausted sleep.

"Did you really think we'd let you get away that easily, boy?"

No.

"We have no use for you anymore, you've already given us everything."

No.

"You answered all of our questions perfectly as soon as you thought you were safe."

No!

"Soon your little pack of mutts will be burning, just like you, boy!"

NO!

Her laughing is cut off by the sounds of people yelling, by hands pressing down on him, by shrill beeping and bone deep pain.

"Hold him tighter, he's going to hurt himself!"

"Call Derek, now!"

Derek. He needs Derek. He can't be dead. It's all his fault. He couldn't stand the pain, he couldn't take the questions, he can't take being nameless.

"Stiles, sweetie, you're ok, you're ok, I need you to calm down. Stiles, can you hear me?! Stiles!"

No, he isn't Stiles, he doesn't have a name. He's not human, he doesn't deserve a name, he doesn't deserve to be treated like a person. He's a betrayer, he's betrayed the only people that matter to him, they're all going to die because of him, because he's weak.

"We need to put him under again."

"No, he comes out of those worse than this, Melissa, trust me when I say you don't want to see that."

"We need to do something!"

He's crying, sobbing, breaking, he needs to break, he deserves to break. He's hallucinating again, dreaming up the people's voices he cares the most about. The real people only want to hurt him, see him suffer until he betrays those beloved people more, until he's swimming in guilt and pain.

There's a strong grip on his fingers and a voice in his ear. His hand is being pressed so hard against something soft but firm and a little scratchy and it's moving. There's warm, humid air against his ear but the voice is low, not high pitched and repulsive. It's talking to him calmly, the deep resonance shaking through his head and his mind is beginning to clear.

He doesn't know how long it takes until he's able to register what's being said but his throat hurts from trying to scream and his face is cold from tears.

"…-hat's it, come on back Stiles, you're doing fine. Take a breath, a deeper one, take another one, keep breathing, breathe with me."

Stiles curls his fingers, feeling the rough stubble pressing into his fingertips. He knows this cheek, this chin. None of them ever had stubble, they'd always been clean shaven. It pulls him slowly to the surface, keeps him from sliding under.

He finds himself repeating in his broken, whistle of a voice, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

And Derek just replies with, "It's ok, it's ok, it's ok, Stiles, you're ok…"

It doesn't happen immediately but little by little Stiles comes down from the panic, from the fear, from the nightmare that had been his reality for seven months and back into the present. He comes back to the people who are still alive despite his betrayal, despite their best efforts to destroy everything he holds dear. His father is holding tightly to his casted left arm while Derek's holding his right hand to his face. Melissa is at his feet holding them down and another nurse has his arms around his middle, trying to keep him still. After a moment that's filled with the gentle sounds of his sobs they all begin to loosen their hold.

"Hey kiddo." His dad's sad voice breaks the silence.

"Dad." He whispers on a sob.

Noah presses a long kiss to his son's forehead that makes the kid want to apologize more for making his father so sad and scared and desperate. The nurse lets him go and Melissa simply rests her hands against his feet.

After a bit longer Derek says, "Should I call Scott?"

But Melissa shakes her head, "No, let him sleep. Everything's ok here now. I need to go adjust his pain medications and fill out a report, I'm going to leave you two with him."

"Thanks Melissa." Noah mutters, his eyes not leaving his son.

She taps his feet gently and leaves the room. Stiles' sobs have turned into quiet tears that he doesn't know if he can stop. So, he lays there, quietly crying while Derek and his father whisper quiet reassurances to him but he doesn't allow himself to fall back asleep. He can't.

"Melissa, it's been five weeks since he's been back, he hasn't said nearly a damn thing. You said his breaks are nearly all healed and all of his other wounds have scarred over, right? Why can't he go home where he'll be more comfortable?"

"It's because he hasn't said anything that I want to keep him here for a bit longer where I can observe him. He's had two panic attacks and gone catatonic once since the day you brought him in but we still can't figure out why. I've avoided the trigger word but there are still some things that cause unpredictable bouts of fear and outbursts."

"The psychologist has been saying to take things slow but I don't know how much slower I can go. It's killing me to be here and it's probably doing the same thing to him. His mother died here and ever since he's hated hospitals. I think it's time he was released. You can come over every day if that's what it takes but please, Melissa, just let the boy go home. It's been nearly a year since he's been home in his own bed, in his own room."

"I know, I know. I just don't want him where I can't immediately get to him."

"You don't think I'm the same? I'm his father, I feel like I'm going crazy with him here."

Melissa sighs but eventually nods. "Ok, I'll get you the discharge papers as soon as I can. But I want to be able to see him at least once a day. Also, I don't think you should put him in his room for a while, the stairs are way too much for him, so the bedroom downstairs would be better. We'll need to work him up to solid foods as well and we'll have to schedule appointments with the physical therapist. You said that the psychologist will be making house visits, right?"

"Right. He's been visiting every other day since we got here but he hasn't talked about what happened during those seven months at all, he hasn't even brought it up."

"Which is good. We can't push Stiles to talk about what happened until he actually starts talking and functioning like a normal human being again. Right now he's barely a shell of a person, you need to give him time to come out of that shell again. He's built himself a save zone, a comfort zone born of fear and desperation and pain which needs to be taken down before he can even begin to think about what happened to him, let alone talk about it. You should expect this to be a very long process, months, possibly years, before he even resembles the kid that he used to be."

Noah heaves a long, sad sigh and nods. "Yeah, I know. It's just so…heartbreaking and sad and hard. I want to do more, I want to protect him, to never let him out of my sights again. I want to help him, but I can't, I don't know how."

"Just be there for him, Noah. This is going to be very, very hard for the both of you but especially for him, just listen and do whatever he needs and you'll be ok."

Melissa puts a hand on his shoulder and draws it up and down his arm soothingly, trying to comfort the strained man in any small way she can before letting him go.

"Now, I'm going to grab those discharge papers and give you a detailed explanation of all the medication and instructions for his bandages that he's going to be sent home with. If you have anything you're not sure about, call me immediately, I don't want you just guessing on anything, ok?"

Noah nods and gives her a small, grateful smile. "Thanks Mel."

"Any time. I'll be right back."

She walks off and Noah returns to the room Stiles is in, checking to see if the boy is still asleep. He seems to be so he breathes out a sigh and returns to his seat near the head of the bed, smoothing out the unruly locks that have started growing back in and covering the white scars that now crisscross his scalp. He's glad to have at least some of them covered.

Stiles does look worlds better than the first day he'd saw him lying in the ICU in Utah but he still doesn't look good. He's absolutely covered in thick scars that are either still a lurid pink or a faded white. The only things that look the same are his ears and his mouth and even though his voice will probably never sound like it used to, he's just glad that there's something that's the same as it used to be.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'll be posting the next one as soon as I can. Thanks!

~hearts~