Isaac is sitting alone at his usual table. He looks up when Stiles enters the cafeteria, and watches silently as Stiles gets his tray and stands at the corner of the room, looking decisively down each row of tables. He's surprised when Isaac nods in his direction and gestures to the seat beside him. He had been certain their tenuous friendship had been through with… Well, he didn't think he'd see much of the janitor anymore. He's not complaining. He's been practically alone since it happened, taking all of his meals in his room and only talking about work.
Stiles makes his way over and drops into the chair across from Isaac. He realizes he should probably try to at least act like his old self. That realization falls short when all he can muster is a quiet, "Hi."
His companion gives a slight smile in response and goes back to eating. This is okay. Stiles can deal with this.
They eat in silence, unchanged even as Boyd joins them. He doesn't talk much anyways, so it's no surprise, but he and Isaac keep looking expectantly at Stiles like they think he's going to explode any minute. Stiles gets those looks a lot these days.
He finishes, notices the others finished eating quite some time ago, and doesn't make a move to leave. Finally Isaac gets up and grabs the empty trays to dispose of them. Boyd claps Stiles on the shoulder, says, "Good to see you," and leaves.
Stiles gets up and moves on to finish his work for the day.
He passes Allison in the hall. She gives him a hug and asks him how he's doing. He replies with the customary, "I'm fine. How are you?" and she responds as such. He goes to the bridge. Danny all but drags him to the nearest screen and has him look over what feels like hundreds of charts. Sometimes they send Jackson off to fix things, sometimes they don't. Kira brings him dinner at 1900 and he eats it while flipping through the last charts and watching Lydia and Jackson argue in the next room over.
He falls into bed later than usual and exhausted, but that's okay. He's less likely to dream.
They fall into a routine after that. It's nice and comfortable, and it works.
Until it doesn't.
They pull into the next outpost on a Monday. There's some fancy interplanetary-accepted word for the date, but Stiles only thinks of it as a Monday. Monday sucks.
Captain Yukimura orders everyone off the ship while they refuel and Allison grabs him by the arm as they're leaving and pulls him along as she walks along stalls of overpriced merchandise. They eat lunch together and she talks the entire time, smiling and pointing at the people who pass and telling little stories about things they remind her of. Stiles plays along, but keeps his eyes on the ship when he can. He excuses himself as soon as the ship is open again.
Not many people are on board, because most are probably trying to get out some energy off-board or stock up on things they don't usually keep in the ship. Stiles just wants to take a nap in his room and maybe do a once over of the biome atmospheres before they take off. The only problem is that from this docking bay, he has to directly pass the B-level biomes.
He's been avoiding them since the accident. He knows it's stupid. They've already dropped off the species contained in B03, which was a huge weight off of Stiles' shoulders, and someone reset the controls so the biome would gradually adjust to the rest of the ship's temperature and gaseous levels. That was weeks ago. Now it would be perfectly safe inside for anyone to go unsuited. In fact, it could almost be considered safer within the biome than the rest of the ship.
That doesn't change the past.
Stiles tries his hardest not to stop, but he does anyway. Above the spherical surfaces of the biomes, which act as one way mirrors, there are walkways and railings. Stiles takes the stairs to the walkway above B03 and latches on to the railing, looking over the edge. The smoky atmosphere has dissipated, and the rocky, unforgiving surface has morphed to a lightly forested green stretch of land. He can't see the panel through the trees, but he knows it's there. If it weren't for the conflicting feelings in his head, it would be peaceful. As it is, Stiles feels like throwing up.
People have died in the biomes before. Stiles knew this even before taking the job. Every position in the ship is a risk, but he'd gone so long without accident that it just didn't seem possible. They'll move on and eventually forget that Scott was anything more than a name on a list and a warning for newcomers. Pretty soon they'll expect Stiles to do the same.
He sweeps his eyes over it once more, nearly finishes resolving never to set foot near B03 again if he can help it, and turns to leave when something catches his eyes. A glint of metal within the biome. He manages to look just in time to see a person disappearing slowly into one of the thicker clumps of trees.
At first, he freezes in shock. They left the occupants of B03 weeks ago, and no crew members are in this area of the ship at this time. At least, they shouldn't be. He grips the rail tighter and makes up his mind.
Stiles takes the stairs in twos and threes and nearly sprints to the opening. Some unimportant equipment is still sitting by the door where the Wranglers left them after unloading B03, and Stiles scoops up what could be useful before rushing to the door and keying in his passcode. He doesn't know what he's expecting, but he's surprised when the door slides open in the secondary chamber and he's blanketed in pleasantly warm air. Not that he really stops to enjoy it.
He's already fully inside the biome by the time he realizes exactly what he's doing. Stiles briefly loses his breath when a stab of panic hits him right between the ribs. He figures, like with most things, the less he thinks about it, the less it'll hurt. He clenches his shaking hands into fists and sets off through the clearing for the clump of trees he'd seen the figure disappear into.
Even though he's seen enough of those old horror movies with his dad, Stiles doesn't hesitate in breaking all the rules. "Hey," he calls out, hating how weak his voice sounds. "Is someone there?" First rule, don't call out your position.
Second rule, don't go into the dark alone. He weaves in between the first line of trees to the place where the undergrowth thickens and the leaves above block out most of the light. The ground crunches to his left. He whips around, nearly losing his balance and catching himself on the closest branch.
"Hello?"
Another crunching sound comes from somewhere in front of him, still slightly to the left. His mind is empty when he follows it, and he doesn't really think anything else as he squeezes through the brush and tries not to get tangled in the branches until he stops and realizes he's in the very place where Scott died.
The trees arch overhead and the door to the control panel is barely visible through tangled vines. The dirt underfoot its littered with dead leaves and moss, but there are no signs anyone was here. The miracle of technology has eradicated every memory of Scott's death save for the memories in Stiles' head. He chokes on a breath and sits down on the spot.
If he'd been just a little bit faster…
He loses himself on a train of thought he's been down many times in the past months. His fingers rake through the soil and he blearily hopes whatever is in the biome with him will strike him dead on the spot. It doesn't.
Stiles gets his breathing under control and pushes to his feet. He touches the door to the panel through the vines. He walks back through the trees, slower and less desperate. He lets the quiet rustle of leaves and the warm breeze soothe away his feelings.
He's okay now.
Before he reaches the chamber and the door back into the ship, he looks back over his shoulder. Scott is leaning against the tree in his cracked up suit. He smiles when he sees Stiles and he waves. If he's going crazy, he might as well embrace it. Stiles waves back.
And then he leaves.
When he's up in the bridge later and Danny asks him what he was doing in B03, Stiles simply replies that he was confronting his ghosts. Danny doesn't ask anymore questions after that.
A/N: Last bit of exposition before the good stuff.