Hey guys, hope you like it so far :) Thank you for the reviews. Can't believe this has over 9000 views already. I told you guys that I'd post every 2 or 3 days. Though I've been posting an new chapter every other day, soon I may have to post on day 3 because I'm getting swamped with classes already. So don't be too upset if you don't get one on the second day, it'll just be one more day :) Enjoy and please review! Love you guys.

CHAPTER 14

Scott took his hand from Lydia's, but both were silent, just standing and thinking about what they'd just seen. Scott couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he'd made Stiles stay with him while Mr. Stilinski went to the specialist. He could have saves Stiles from the panic and fear set upon him by Eichen house. How many times had Stiles had to sacrifice apart of himself for his friends? He was always there for Scott, no matter what he needed, and never thought twice about it. He always put on a brave face and a smile with a sarcastic remark on the side. Scott had often thought he'd known when something was up with Stiles, that he could sense when something was wrong. While he'd often been right, he couldn't help but wonder how often he'd been wrong, how often Stiles had hidden it from him because he knew Scott had so much other stuff going on?

Lydia was leaning against the wall, thinking of how much crap Stiles had been through in the time since Scott had been turned. Hell, how much Stiles had been through in general. She thought of how they'd found Stiles in the clinic. When she'd run into the room after Scott and saw him on the floor, her heart had nearly stopped, fearing the worst. She knew Stiles meant more to her then she'd ever let show to those around her. She'd never thought she'd think so highly of someone who she had once thought wasn't worth her attention. She'd never been more wrong about anything in her life. She remembered the times she went to the hospital and tried to wake Stiles from his coma-like state. How she tried to be his anchor, just as he'd been hers when he'd rescued her from Eichen house. How awful and heartbroken she'd been when it had failed. When Stiles just continued staring at her like she wasn't there. He hadn't been prepared for the crushing hurt that had filled her when he ignored her.

Lydia looked up from the floor and onto Stiles' face as he sat in a chair of the guidance office, applying a new net to his lacrosse stick. Compared to the memory they'd just seen, he looked so innocent here. His hair was cropped short, and he looked so much younger. The problems of the nogitsune not yet having reached him. But as she looked at his face, Lydia noticed that bags were once again under his eyes, and he looked upset. His hands were working through the net as if trying to distract himself, but his face looked troubled.

"You know when you're drowning you don't actually inhale until right before you black out." He was saying. "It's called voluntary apnea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your heads exploding."

Lydia looked over at Scott. They both knew this had to be around the time Matt had almost killed them in the station. This must have been the mandatory sessions Ms. Morrell had made Stiles and Scott attend after he drowned that night. "Then when you do finally let it in that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore it's… it's actually kind of peaceful." Lydia secretly loved when Stiles came up with all this factual information. She sometimes forgot that the goofy guy who made everyone laugh was actually pretty smart.

"Are you saying that you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments?"

Stiles breathed deeply and shook his head. "I don't feel sorry for him."

"Can you feel sorry for the nine year old Matt who drowned?" Stiles rolled his eyes and lowered his lacrosse stick. "Just because a bunch of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim doesn't really give him the right to start killing them off one by one." he said.

Scott looked at Lydia and nodded towards the door, asking if she was ready to move on from the memory. He knew there was no imminent threat in this memory to be worried about, and felt like he was intruding on a personal conversation. Another part of him wanted to see what else he told Ms. Morrell that he possibly hadn't told him, but Scott knew it was an invasion of privacy. Lydia's eyes shifted over to Stiles as Scott stood up from against the wall and began walking towards the door. "And by the way my dad told me that they found a bunch of pictures of Allison on Matts computer." Scott froze, turning around to Stiles, eyebrows lowered and mouth slightly ajar.

"What? Dude you never told me that!" Scott said forcibly to Stiles.

"Not just of her though I mean he photo shopped himself into these pictures." Lydia's eyebrows shot up, and she wondered if Allison had known about that. She'd told Lydia about the creepy pictures she'd seen on there, but from what Allison had told her it had just been regular pictures of her. Creepy, but not as creepy as Matt photo shopping himself into them with her. "Stuff like them holding hands and kissing, you know like he had built this whole fake relationship. So yeah maybe drowning him when he was nine years old was what set him off the rails but the dude was definitely riding the crazy train." Stiles said, eyes unforgiving.

Scott was looking at Stiles in disgust. "Ugh dude really? That's really disturbing. Why didn't you tell me man?"

"Probably because of everything you were going through at the time with her and your mom and the Jackson problem. He probably didn't want to freak you out more, especially if it was all over with his death." Lydia was saying. While Scott had been on his way out the door, Lydia had yet to move from besides the window. When she didn't join Scott, he joined her again, wondering what else the sheriff had told his son about Matt.

Stiles sat back in the chair as Ms. Morrell nodded. "One positive thing came out of this though, right?"

"Yeah." Stiles said, sounding unsure. "Yeah but I still feel like there's something wrong between us. I don't know it's just like tension when we talk."

"Who's he talking about?" Lydia asked. Scott looked over at her, slightly confused.

"I'm not entirely sure? But maybe his dad. I remember he lost his job for a couple of weeks, but got it back after he solved Matts case."

Stiles' gaze kept drifting elsewhere, like he was uncomfortable saying all of this aloud but some other part of him just kept talking. "Same thing with Scott." Scott's eyes whipped back to Stiles.

"Have you talked to him since that night?"

"No, not really." Stiles said, looking down at his lacrosse stick. "I mean he's got his own problems to deal with though." Stiles began adjusting his net again. Lydia recognized it as a nervous tick, a sign of his ADHD. He always needed to be doing something, and if he was going to talk, he also needed some sort of outlet. "I don't think he's talked to Allison either. But that might be more her choice, you know?" Lydia looked around in discomfort, feeling Allison's loss. In this memory she was alive and well, living somewhere out of this room, not knowing she had less than a year left to live. "Her mom dying hit her pretty hard. But I guess it brought her and her dad closer."

"And what about Jackson? He's a friend of yours isn't he?"

"Jackson? Jackson hasn't really been himself lately. Actually the funny thing is as of right now, Lydia's the one who seems the most normal."

"Hey." Lydia said quietly, eyes narrowing at Stiles. "I resent that."

"And what about you Stiles?" Ms. Morrell asked calmly as Stiles began tightening the net with his teeth. "Feeling some anxiety about that championship game tomorrow night?"

Stiles looked up at her with a confused expression, rope still in his mouth. "Why would you ask me that?" He looked at the net in his mouth. "Oh. Uh no, I never actually play. But hey since one of my teammates is dead and another one is missing, who knows right?"

Lydia remembered exactly when this was now. She went to that game, and Stiles had played for the first time. It had taken him a while to get the hang of being on the field with the team, but in the end he'd saved the game. Lydia smiled at the memory.

"You mean Isaac. One of the three runaways. You haven't heard from any of them have you?"

Stiles looked at the desk and changed the subject. "How come you're not taking any notes on this?" He asked. Scott gave his friend an impressed grin, he hadn't even noticed how clear the desk was.

"I do my notes after the session."

Stiles looked at her in disbelief "Your memory's that good?" he asked. The guidance officer tilted her head to the side and looked at Stiles.

"How about we get back to you?" Stiles looked out the window like he wanted to escape out of it before turning his gaze to the ground. "Stiles?"

Stiles looked up, his face guarded, and shook his head. "I'm fine." Scott shook his head. He always said that. "Yeah aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible is about to happen." Scott looked at his friend in surprise. Guilt washed over him as he wondered how many times he had felt like this. How much crap they had been through together, and how much it could have affected him. He was surprised Stiles was even talking about it here. But from what he was hearing from his best friend, after this traumatic event had happened everyone was dealing with so much that he didn't have anyone else to talk to. Not his dad, and not him. He hadn't wanted to burden Scott with how he was feeling because he knew Scott had been dealing with his own stuff with his mom and Allison. Even when Stiles was at a bad point, he still but his brother first. Scott swallowed the lump in his throat.

"…hyper vigilance. The persistent feeling of being under threat."

"Probably because we normally are." Lydia muttered, and Scott smiled.

"It's not just a feeling though its-it's like it's a panic attack. You know, like I can't even breathe." Stiles' voice was low, eyes lost in thought as if going to the place where his worst nightmares lay.

"Like you're drowning?" Ms. Morrell asked.

Stiles paused. "Yeah." He said quietly.

Lydia had the crushing desire to go hold his hand in comfort, let him know that he wasn't alone. But she knew there was no point. She knew he wouldn't see her.

"So. If you're drowning, and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very. last. moment." Stiles looked up at her, wondering where she was going with this. "What if you choose not to open your mouth? To not let the water in."

Stiles looked almost confused by her question. "You do anyways, it's a reflex."

"But, if you hold off, until that reflex kicks in, you have more time, right?"

"Not much time."

"But more time. To fight your way to the surface."

"I guess."

"More time to be rescued."

"More time to be in agonizing pain I mean did you forget about the part where it feels like your head is exploding?" Stiles asked, exasperated. Ms. Morrell leaned forward, gaze never leaving Stiles.

"If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it?" Stiles averted his gaze.

"I mean what if it just gets worse? What if it's… agony now and… and it's just hell later on."

Part of Scott wanted to look away, guilt gnawing at him that he hadn't realized how much he'd been effected by the events that had played out. But no matter how much his brain told him to look away, his eyes were trained on his best friend. His brother. He wanted to take his pain away. He didn't want him saying things like this, didn't want him experiencing things like the nogitsune, or the panic attacks, or the near death experiences. He was sick of seeing Stiles in pain, physically, emotionally, mentally. Scott just wanted to see his best friend awake and happy again. He couldn't take it anymore, and began walking to the door again.

"Scott-" Lydia said, following after him.

"Then think about something Winston Churchill once said." Ms. Morrell was saying. Scott was opening the door, and Lydia glanced at this Stiles once more, placing a hand through his shoulder in a last ditch effort of some sort of moral support.

"If you're going through hell… keep going." Lydia paused, and absorbed her words. Scott paused at the open door, reaching back for Lydia's hand before walking through and walking down the hallway. They could hear the mumbling as Stiles and Ms. Morrell continued talking, but it was already too dim for Lydia to hear and she had a feeling Scott was purposefully tuning them out. The sunlight seemed to darken to night, and they were gone.