Chapter 3: It's Real and It's Going to be Okay
Stiles was afraid to open his eyes. He didn't want another mind game, he couldn't handle that. One more false hope would shatter his heart. He couldn't let himself believe anymore falsehoods. No, when he opened his eyes he would fight. He wouldn't break. He would NOT, could NOT break. He was a Stilinski after all.
So, when a hand touched his shoulder, gently nudging him and using a stolen voice to wake him, "Stiles, bro, please open your eyes," he couldn't let the voice shatter his will. This was a trick of war. He opened his eyes, ignoring the relieved smile and grabbed the lie's arm as firmly as he could. "Stiles? Oh my God! Hey buddy, calm…"
Before it could finish his sentence Stiles had managed to twist its arm and shove him away, only slightly aware of how easy it was to break free. "No! You can't trick me anymore!" Stiles ignored the pain radiating throughout his body, trying to let the adrenaline take over. He pulled away from the wires and tubes attached to him, causing machines to go crazy as he jumped/stumbled from the bed.
"Stiles!" The lie reached out for him as he fell to the floor and tried to find a way out. "Stiles, it's me! It's Scott! You're safe now!" The teenager looked at his hurt friend as if he was a hurt animal brought into Deaton's and his heart broke. "God, what happened to you?" He knelt down to coax his friend to safety when a small huddle of hospital staff came running in, crash cart in tow. "Back off! He's just scared!" He tried to hold them back but it all happened too quickly. And he was still too shocked by the state of his best friend.
"No!" Stiles let out this terrible scream as several nurses held the struggling boy down and a doctor stabbed a needle into his thigh causing his body to slowly slump into the ground and the nurses' arms as he continued to mumble. "..can't…break…me…"
Scott finally pushed through his shock and went to his friend, gathering him up in his arms, pulling him up from the floor and the nurses who hadn't listened. "He ripped open his stitches." The smell of blood had filled the air again. He sat there holding his brother's hand, taking the pain and trying to sooth each frantic jerk or twitch while he was sown back together, refusing to leave the boy's side.
The next time Stiles awoke there was a soft hand brushing through his hair and when he tried to move away, he found himself strapped down. So he obviously hadn't left. "Sorry, sweetie, they had to restrain you so you wouldn't hurt yourself again. You tore out almost every stitch Stiles." Melissa McCall spoke before he opened his eyes, seeing his struggle. "You need to calm down." She hated to see him like this. "You're safe now."
Finally he opened his eyes, trying not to feel relief or hope at the sight of his surrogate mother's face. "You are NOT real." He said through gritted teeth and closed his eyes again trying not to cry, trying not to break. "You can't be real. I won't believe it. I won't be tricked again." He pulled on the restraints again trying so hard not to cry.
Melissa took the boy, who she had considered her own, took each side of his face in her hands. "I am real. This is real. You are safe now. Believe it. Please believe it sweetheart. Let us help you. Open your eyes and let me help you get better. You're home now."
When he spoke his voice was barely a whisper. "No." He refused to open his eyes.
Suddenly her hands were removed and were replaced by stronger, rougher ones gripping him. "Then believe this." Scott ripped the restraints holding his friends hands down and roughly held them up in desperation. "Open your eyes Stiles." When Stiles didn't obey Scott almost roared, wishing his alpha powers worked on Stiles. "Open them!" His eyes flashed red as Stiles finally complied. "Count, count them Stiles." And together they counted. First they counted Stiles' bruised and scraped fingers and then Scott's, each having ten. "Ten, Stiles, that's ten fingers." He gripped his friend's shoulders. "You're my best friend Stiles. I've known you since I was four. We met in a fricking sandbox. You destroyed my sandcastle, remember?" He smiled a little. "Remember this?" He pointed to the scar on his left cheek. "Three stitches. It was storming so we were playing lacrosse inside and you threw it too far, I hit the coffee table, remember? You cleaned my face off, held a cloth to my face, and dragged me to the hospital. You have always been there for me Stiles. I'm here now. I'm real." His eyes flashed again in frustration.
Shaking Stiles leaned into his friend. "It's…it's real." He let his friend wrap his arms around him. "It was all real…" He felt tears streaming down his face and into Scott's shirt. "My dad…" His body shook with sadness as his brother held him, pulling away the physical pain with his werewolf powers and trying to pull away the emotional pain with his hushed words of comfort.
"It's going to be okay Stiles, I promise. You're going to be okay." Scott held his best friend because that was all he knew to do. Even if he couldn't bring the sheriff back, heal Stiles' wounds, or find the guy who did all of this, then at least he still had his best friend back sitting in his arms. That had to count for something.
/Gahh awesome start to season five this week, right?! Anyways, thanks for reading, please review, and have a great day!