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"It's still me, you know."

Scott glanced at Stiles, who was sitting on the table, waiting for a CT scan of his brain. His brain that, two days ago when he had woken up from a coma, hadn't recognized Scott.

"I know," Scott said guiltily. "But it was still scary. When you didn't remember me."

Stiles kept silent, pursing his lips and sighing through his nose.

Things had been pretty rough when Stiles was unconscious, but now they were almost worse. Stiles might have been awake, but he wasn't the same person. He was quieter, more disconnected, not talking as much because of his slow, slurring speech. And he didn't fidget with his hands like he used to do constantly. It was hard when Scott knew he should be happy his best friend was awake, but at the same time, Stiles wasn't the same person. His best friend had died in that accident, and wouldn't be coming back any time soon.

After this scan, though, Stiles would get to go home. The sheriff was eager to have his son back in the house, albeit things would be very, very different. He'd been scared to see Stiles unconscious, so he had only visited on nights where he didn't have work. But now he hardly left Stiles' side. Scott glanced at the reflective window pane, knowing that the sheriff would have been watching their every move, assessing each and every move Stiles made, no matter how slight.

"I was scared, too," Stiles said eventually. "When it dawned on me who you were. When I realized I'd forgotten you existed for a whole day. It made me think of my mom. I...I don't wanna forget you." His voice, still hoarse, cracked at the end, sending a shard of pity into Scott's chest.

"I'll make sure you won't forget," he said, pulling Stiles into a tight hug. While Stiles didn't hug back as tightly as he did before the accident, Scott knew he was trying his best. He buried his face in Scott's shoulder and let out a trembling breath.

"Thank you, Scotty."

They separated and Scott was left standing next to the table with his hands in his pockets, waiting until the nurse Brenda would come in to instruct Stiles on what to do for the scan. Everyone was hoping it would at least be better than the last one, though they knew there would still be some degree of damage in Stiles' brain. There would always be.

It took Scott a minute to realize that Stiles had been staring off into space, and now his eyes were starting to flutter. Muttering a curse under his breath, Scott jogged over to the mirrored window and gave it a harsh pound.

"---got it, I got it," Melissa was saying as she practically kicked down the door. "I have eyes, Scott." She sat on the table next to Stiles and rubbed a hand across his back, trying to calm him.

"Just breathe," she said softly, and Stiles let out a choked whimper as his face continued to twitch. His shoulders joined in a second later. "Shh. It's okay. You're alright."

After a minute, Stiles' face relaxed and he sagged forward, breathing a sigh of relief. Melissa squeezed his shoulders and smiled.

"One tough cookie." She stood, jerking her head back at Stiles, indicating for Scott to take over. He awkwardly cleared his throat and opened his mouth to say something.

"Please don't," Stiles mumbled as Melissa left the room. He kept his gaze glued to the floor and he used his index finger to trace the lines on his hospital gown.

"Stiles, you don't have to be embarrassed," Scott said. "Remember Erica?"

"She's dead." Stiles spat the words harshly, harsher than Scott would've thought was possible with his dysarthria. "She's dead, Scott. I remember. At least she wasn't aware during hers; she forgot she even had a seizure the moment she got out of it."

Scott frowned and nodded. Focal seizures, he'd decided, weren't as bad as regular seizures. But they were sure scarier for the person experiencing them, and they packed a lot more mental consequences.

"Well, at least you don't---"

"Just shut up, Scott," Stiles seethed, baring his teeth and glaring up at him with watering eyes. It was like a switch had been flipped. "Leave me alone."

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