"Stiles, it's time to get up."
Stiles grumbled from underneath is comforter. He knew this was coming. "Dad, I want to stay in bed."
"As your father, I'm asking you to get out of bed. Now." The sheriff leaned against Stiles' doorway, dressed in his uniform, ready for work.
"Dad. Please, I just want to stay here."
"I'm not asking you any more, Stiles. I'm now telling you. Get out of bed." The sheriff rubbed his face. All he wanted was to see his son out of bed, cleaned up and dressed.
Stiles burst. He sat up, his covers flying off of him. In that split second, he had rage and spitefulness dripping off the end of his tongue. "I don't want to get up, dad! Leave me alone!"
The sheriff's insides twisted. He could see Stiles' regretted the outburst immediately.
He wasn't angry at his son, the sheriff understood completely. But it was so god damn painful to watch Stiles be in this state. Stiles' father had watched him deteriorate from a teenage boy to a possessed nogitsune with his very own eyes. He watched Stiles cry himself to sleep to then cry himself awake more times that he'd wished. This situation pained the sheriff more, because this time, it wasn't an evil spirit taking over his son. This was all Stiles, all human. Stiles was dealing with a human situation and the sheriff couldn't call Deaton or Scott or Derek to take that away. Stiles was heartbroken and riddled with grief and all the sheriff wanted right now was to take that all away, and he couldn't. The next best thing he could do was help his son get through it.
"Stiles, do you remember when your mother passed?" The sheriff asked, hiding the pain in his voice. He sat at the end of Stiles' bed and looked over at his son. "Do you remember how bad I was? Not sleeping, not eating...do you remember what you said to me?"
Stiles closed his eyes, the memory still so very fresh. "I said, what would mom think if she saw you."
"That's right." The sheriff nodded, waiting a few seconds before continuing. "What would Lydia think if she saw you right now?"
Stiles stiffened, as if he'd been caught by the banshee herself. He played out her reaction in his head; crinkled nose, a gasp escaping her mouth, a look of disapproval as her eyes bored his room.
""Stilinksi, it's been three weeks!"," Stiles let a grin spread across his face as he mimicked Lydia. ""You've slept in the same sheets for three weeks, your curtains haven't been opened once and I can smell your stench from across the room!"."
The sheriff laughed, shaking his head. "Do you understand what I'm saying now? It will not hurt you leaving these four walls."
"Dad, I'm scared." Stiles confessed. "I'm absolutely terrified that if I continue my life, I'll forget her. I don't want to forget her. I don't want to forget anything about her."
"Stiles, I still remember the clothes your mother was wearing the day she passed." The sheriff began. "I remember every single one of her plaited hairstyles. I remember her laugh like it was yesterday. I sometimes hear her laugh wonder through the hallway. I remember the dimples when she smiled, I remember her two step dance she would do while she vaccumed. I remember the look on her face when she'd walk in and find us both on the sofa watching Doctor Who when we should've been washing the dishes she'd asked us to do. I remember every single detail about that lady, and do you know why?"
Memories of Stiles' mother flashed through his mind like a video. He shook his head.
"Women like your mother and Lydia, they're impossible to forget."
Stiles' heart twisted. He looked up at the photos on his wall, Lydia was all that he could see. His father was right. How could he forget the astonishingly beautiful strawberry-blonde grinning right back at him? He thought about the two most important women in his life. It hurt that they were gone, but he'd never forget them. It tore Stiles' heart to shreds knowing that he had no choice but to live a life without either one of them in it, but he'd had the privilege of basking in their presence. He cherished that.
"So, I was thinking you could come to work with me today." The sheriff spoke softly and comfortingly. "We spoke about you coming down the station to earn some work experience. How about you start that now?"
Stiles blinked, still staring at the life of his life scattered across his wall. Her smiling back at him, it felt like a sign. That was silly - Lydia would have pushed for Stiles to work at the station long ago - but it felt like she was telling him to do it. He wasn't leaving her behind. He was bringing her with him, using the knowledge he'd learnt from her to help him better himself in his line of work. Everything he'd learnt about crime solving, clues, forensics; it was all down to Lydia. He wanted to use her knowledge to help their town.
"Yeah, dad." Stiles nodded. "I think I'm ready."
"I'm proud of you son." The sheriff smiled, patting his son lightly on the back. "Now go get in the shower. You stink."