Where Is My Mind?
Chapter Three
In her time as a nurse, Melissa McCall had seen thousands of family members stand guard over their loved ones as they recovered. It went with the territory and the environment; people needed reassurance that the people they loved were still with them, that they were still fighting.
Friends tended to hold the injured hands or attempted to make them laugh.
Parents fought tears while they whispered promises and accolades in broken voices.
Children stared, lost in thoughts of better times and fears of the unknown.
It was lovers that had the most complex reaction. Some cried, some laughed; sometimes there would be angry outbursts at doctors or nurses, threats of lawsuits flying amid words meant to cut, or sometimes there would be emotional outburst comprised of screaming and begging, bargaining with deities and gods for another chance.
But they all had one thing in common. The lost look in their eyes, unsure of what to do or how to help.
It was Melissa McCall's experience that allowed her to see and know such a soft side of Derek. For Derek Hale sat at the bedside of Stiles Stillinski day after day, staring at the unaware boy, silently pleading.
And every day he was met with the same result and Melissa got to right the same thing on Stiles's chart:
No progress.
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He was running, again. He shifted between running the second his nightmare started and seeing how long the beast would wait before it attacked. Sometimes he was lucky and was given a slight reprieve in the form of a couple extra minutes of rest before the beast started its hunting process again. Most times the beast came right at him, giving him no mercy. Sometimes he would run. Sometimes we would try to fight. Sometimes he would just stay still and let the beast unleash its fury.
He could never remember the face of the beast, although it was becoming increasingly clearer as the nightmare in which he found himself played over and over. The beast's eyes were its most haunting feature: bright red orbs that followed Stile's every move.
Stiles could feel the burn the gaze left on his skin; the eyes alone gave him the energy he need to keep running. Like now, as Stiles ran through the blur of trees and the blanket of light that only a full moon could deliver, the red eyes gave him strength to continue.
This time things were different, though. Memories were assaulting, nameless faces plaguing him, a continuous void left where knowledge should have made its home. And the beast. The beast with wolf-like features was clearer, the clarity taunting him so cruelly. He could make out every feature, could see the fangs.
His legs were tiring, which meant one thing: the beast was going to catch him again. Like clockwork, Stiles felt the blow to the back of his, could hear the ringing, could feel his body ache as he hit the forest floor. He laid there for a moment, listening the deep breathes of the wolf-creature. Slowly, he rose to rest on his knees and faced the monster, surprised that for the first time the monster was so vivid, so real.
The beast above him shrank until a mere man stood above him. Dark features, bulging muscles and brooding red eyes stared down at him. The man's fangs stayed elongated, growls occasionally slipping from his mouth. He watched Stiles like a predator would watch its prey.
In all his nightmares before the beast would catch him he would wake up to find the scene play over. Never before had he been confronted with this hauntingly familiar figure. Stile's heart felt like it would shoot straight from his chest. His body was alight with fear. Whimpering, he tried to slowly back up.
The man only growled louder. Raising his arm, Stiles watch with horror as the man's hand became sharp, thick claws. Breathing deeply, Stiles tried to back up again only for the man to move even closer.
Stiles could feel a name at the back of his, trying desperately to make its way to his mouth. He knew on some level that he knew this man. This man would never hurt him, right?
"Please don't hurt me. Please, I just want to go home. I don't really know where that is or where the hell I am, but I just want to go home," Stiles begged, closing his eyes, waiting for the nightmare to replay.
He could handle the running and the fear, he couldn't handle this familiar stranger and the danger he presented. The man raised his hand and in a flash, a name and dozens of memories crashed through his brain like a freight train. This was no stranger. This was Derek Hale, his friend (a title that the wolf in question was unaware of).
"Derek," Stiles whispered, his voice broken. "Derek, it's me. It's Stiles."
The man let loose a deafening roar, his eyes going blood red. Stiles shrunk from the sound, bracing himself for whatever was going to come.
Derek raised his arm high, as if he was taking aim, his claws lengthening. Again letting loose a roar, he brought his hand down upon Stiles.
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Derek met Melissa's eyes as she entered the hospital room, moving to Stiles's bed, checking the machines that had been attached to the teen.
"The doctors say that he is probably off in dreamland," Melissa said, offering Derek a warm-hearted smile as she went about her work.
"I hope wherever he is, that he is happy," Derek muttered, unused to being approached by someone so friendly.
Melissa nodded but writing things down on Stiles's chart. She turned to Derek and noticed his haggard appearance. "Is there anything I can get you," she asked.
"No thanks," Derek said, rising from his seat and moving towards the door. "I actually have to get going."
"You should take some time for yourself Derek. Give yourself some time to yourself," Melissa said, fluffing Stiles's pillow, taking a moment a caress his forehead. She looked down at him tenderly and turned to give Derek a sad smile. "If there is any change, I am sure you will be one of the first to know."
Derek nodded and exited the room. As he left the hospital he pushed Stiles to the back of his mind, or as far back as his mind would allow (which wasn't very far, in fact). Hitting the street, he began to roll through his mind, faces of Beacon Hills teens and a new instinct to expand (courtesy of the Alpha in him) merging to give the brooding werewolf a new mission.
The lacrosse player who wanted to nothing more than to be extraordinary.
The boy's eyes that told the story of a life of abuse and neglect.
The blonde girl who wanted to go through life without having to worry about whether her brain would malfunction at the worst time.
The desperate boy who craved friendship and companions.
Yes, there was plenty for Derek to do while he waited for Stiles to wake up. While his young mate floated through prison his mind had created, Derek would be busy building a pack for which Stiles could wake up to.
AN: Sorry for such a long delay. There was a family loss and I am finally just getting back into writing. I am wondering if there is anyone out there still interested in this story. If so, let me know!
Also, I was wondering if anyone could help me out with an invite to Ao3. I would like to have my stories in multiple places, and prefer Ao3 but am on the ridiculously large waiting list. Thanks!
