Darkness.

Silence.

Nothing.

Stiles opened his eyes slowly. All around him was nothingness. There was only a dark and never ending void. He sat up and looked around.

Alone.

He was scared but he couldn't articulate his feelings. There was this overwhelming loneliness that had settled in his body. Was this death? This wasn't anything like what the white robed holy men preached of during service. There were no large gates; no angels to usher him in. But then again, maybe Stiles didn't get to go to Heaven. Perhaps he was now doomed to this desolate pane of existence. Did he even exist anymore?

If this was his current existence, then he would do well to embrace it. So he put one foot before the other and started walking.

Minutes.

Hours.

Days.

Stiles had no idea how long he had walked. Had he gone anywhere? Was he walking in circles? Was there anywhere even to go? Even so, fatigue didn't plague him and he only felt the pressure as each of his footfalls landed against the ground. His footsteps made no sound. So he walked on.

He screamed.

He yelled.

He cried.

But no one ever answered back.

So he kept walking.

There was no notion of time.

No end to this place.

Stiles stopped and tipped his head back. Even above him there was nothing. The sky had no definition from the ground. Was there even a horizon? More tears fell from his eyes and the warmth of the tears on his skin confused him. Why could he feel his tears and yet he never got tired? Did he have this place for the rest of time? Just how long was eternity?

He let his head fall back down. Just as he was about to take yet another step forward, he saw something before him. It was faint—but there was definitely something in the nothingness. He swallowed hard, his throat dry with anticipation. His steps were quick and he nearly broke in to a run.

As he got closer, Stiles was able to see that yes—there was something there. But it wasn't a something, it was a someone. They had their back to him. It was a woman. She had long, curly brown hair that cascaded down her back. She wore a light, white sundress. When Stiles was within arm's length of her, she turned.

Stiles' heart stopped and he felt his throat constrict.

It took a few times for his voice to work, "Mom?"

She smiled at him, her warm brown eyes sparkling, "My ptaszek, look at how you've grown."

Stiles fell to his knees, all the strength in his body disappearing instantly. He tried to think of something to say, but the only thing that came to him was tears. It was his mother before him. She was exactly as he remembered her. Her face was bright and laughter lines crinkled at the edges of her eyes. A few moles peppered her skin just as they did Stiles'. He looked so much like his mother that sometimes it was painful to look in a mirror and see her looking back at him.

"Is it really you?" He choked out.

"Of course, ptaszek," She knelt down in front of him. Her lips turned up in to a smile, "You are such a handsome young man," she whispered as she gently took his face in her hands.

He laughed but it sounded more like a sob.

"What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that same question young man," her smile turned in to a frown and her brow creased, "This is no place for you and honestly I'm a little disappointed to find you here. I was enjoying my day and suddenly I'm told my son has fallen to the In-Between. What were you thinking?"

She hit him lightly on the forehead with her palm, "Don't you know there are people waiting for you?"

"I don't understand."

"You need to go back," she whispered, touching her forehead to his. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly. Stiles quickly returned the embrace, his arms now long enough to wrap around her entirely. She was so frail and soft in his arms and the feel of his mother close to him made him cry even more.

"I miss you every day," he admitted, burrowing his face in the nape of her neck. He inhaled her scent and it was exactly as he remembered it—a comforting mix of wildflowers and summer berries.

"I know ptaszek," she murmured, "But you can't stay here."

"Why not—" his voice was cut off as he felt something pull in his chest. He gasped, clutching at his chest. There it was again a moment later, a persistent thump. It was rhythmic. Then he realized it was his own heart beating.

The void around them began to crumble, giving way to patches of blue light.

"No!" Stiles yelled. He grabbed for his mother but she deflected his hands. She took his hands in hers and lowered them. Her smile didn't reach her eyes and tears swam in the brown depths.

"You can't stay Stiles," she said softly. Her hands shook as she brought his hands to her chest. She closed her eyes and took in a shuddering breath. When she looked back up at him, tears streamed down her cheeks.

"You've done so well in keeping your promise to me, my precious ptaszek—my little bird, my baby boy. Continue to grow in to a great king, Stiles," She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

Then the ground disappeared from under him and Stiles was falling in to the light.

Coughs wracked his chest and shook his entire body. Water rushed from his lungs and spilled out from his lips. He coughed and gasped for air. When he opened his eyes, the world was bright and he had to blink away the dark spots at the corner of his vision. His body burned for oxygen and he breathed quickly and deeply. Dizziness replaced the nausea and he slowed his breathing.

"Ouji-sama?" A head appeared in the moonlight above him.

"Takahiro?" Stiles said which caused small coughs once more. His throat was raw from repelling the water from his lungs. He pushed himself up in to a sitting position. He blinked at Takahiro who had sat back on his heels.

The dark haired male smiled weakly, "I thought I had lost you,"

"I was dead," Stiles whispered, "I saw my mother," Fresh tears welled in his eyes. They spilled over on to his cheeks. Now his body was shaking from sobs as he cried. He covered his eyes with his palm but that didn't even deter the tears. Takahiro leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Stiles. Emotionally drained, Stiles allowed himself to relax in to the embrace.

When Stiles' tears had been spent, he remained in Takahiro's arms. He breathed deeply and waited for his body to stop trembling. Slowly, he found his strength and moved away from Takahiro.

"How am I still alive? What happened?"

"You followed the Siren over the edge of the ship," Takahiro explained, "I jumped in without thinking."

"And the Siren?"

Takahiro pushed his damp hair out of his face, "Let's say they're a bit more ferocious than they let on."

That's when Stiles noticed the warm stickiness on his front. He looked down and saw that a dark substance had coated his sleeping shirt. Frightened, he pulled his shirt up quickly to inspect the injury, but there was none. He frowned, the confusion evident on his face. But then he realized what that meant.

"You got hurt," he said, looking up at Takahiro. Even in the moonlight, Stiles could tell that Takahiro looked a little pale. There was a bit of sweat glistening on his forehead that could have been mistaken for water.

"It's nothing," Takahiro said with a small shake of his head.

"Let me see it."

"Ouji-sama, I swear—"

"Takahiro," Stiles commanded, "This is not up for debate."

Takahiro seemed uncomfortable about it. However he sighed and moved his arm. His shirt was shredded and blood stained the area around it. Stiles reached out and gently moved pulled the shirt up. Takahiro inhaled sharply when Stiles' fingers brushed against the wound.

"Sorry," the prince mumbled, leaning closer to look at the injury. There were three long cuts in Takahiro's side. They weren't too deep, but the cuts had definitely hurt. Stiles held his hand up next to them and realized that the Siren must have slashed at Takahiro.

"To the Siren—did you," his voice trailed off and he looked up at Takahiro.

"I took care of her, Ouji-sama. She won't be hurting you anymore."

Stiles nodded numbly and returned his gaze to Takahiro's side.

"Does it hurt?" Realization dawned on him, "You swam through the ocean with this—with me. Takahiro, why would you go that far?"

"You are very important, Ouji-sama," Takahiro whispered, "You have to be protected at all costs."

"You could have been killed!" Stiles hissed. He glared up at Takahiro. Scenes of bloodied swords and lifeless eyes danced before him. He closed his eyes tightly and swallowed hard. It was a moment before he could speak again.

"Too many people have died protecting me," He reached up and cupped Takahiro's face with his hand, "I'm tired of losing friends."

"Ouji-sama," Takahiro nodded. A small smirk lifted his lips, "I won't die that easily—I promise."

Stiles smiled back at him, "You better keep your promise. I don't take kindly to those who break promises."

"I won't break it. This wound is not anything to worry about, Ouji-sama. I just need to rest and I'll be prepared for anything," Takahiro's voice drifted off and his eyes fluttered shut. The boy fell forward and slumped against Stiles. But he was easily able to support him. After checking his vital signs and deciding that he was fine, Stiles laid Takahiro down. He piled some sand up and made a makeshift pillow. Now he turned his attention to the wound. It had stopped bleeding and it appeared mostly clean. Without fresh water, Stiles had no way of actually cleaning it or treating it. He hoped that it wouldn't get infected.

Stiles looked around. They were on a beach. There were trees about 25 feet from the waterline. Perhaps there were people on the island. Takahiro probably knew where they were—his family had sailed these waters for generations. For now, Stiles would let Takahiro sleep. He was pretty exhausted himself. They would need as much rest as they could. There was no telling what was ahead for them. He just hoped there were no animals on the island that would wish to make a meal out of them. So Stiles let out a breath and lay down next to Takahiro.

The storm had cleared and now the skies were beautiful. Stars glittered in the dark blue expanse. Stiles watched the twinkling lights as he let his mind calm. His body ached and his head hurt. It had been an exhausting day. His eyes caught sight of a star as it flew across the night sky. He held his breath and made a wish. Then he kept his eyes closed and allowed sleep to take him away.

Please let everyone be all right.