Pure × Isaac Lahey

35.

The door bell rang just before Deaton could say anything, Stiles wandering to the back.

He looked tired. "I was summoned by the high council of Beacon Hills."

"Hilarious, Stilinski," retorted Elora lightly as she motioned for him to join her. "Let's talk about what happened before lunch."

"Before lunch?" questioned Stiles as he went into the work room. He stood slightly off to the side, forming a triangle with Elora and Deaton.

"You know what I'm talking about," Elora said in counter. "The sign language question. What did you see?"

Stiles swallowed, hesitating before beginning. He light shook his head, "I went into Finstock's room for class and you were there instead of him. You were stiff and blank, repeating some phrase with your hands. Then the rest of the class did. Then I heard your voice but your mouth didn't move."

Elora looked pensive, her eyebrows drawn together. "What did I say?"

"Wake up, Stiles. You have to wake up to solve the riddle."

"It sounds like your subconscious is trying to communicate with you," Deaton told him.

Stiles lifted an eyebrow, "Well, how do I tell my subconscious to use a language that I actually know?"

Elora ran a hand along her jaw, "Do you remember what the sign language looked like? Like, the placement and movement of the hands? Doc might be able to help."

"I know a little," defended Deaton. "Let me give it a shot."

"Okay, the first one was like this," Stiles said as he circled one pointed first with the other.

"That's 'when,'" Deaton told him.

"Then there was this," Stiles held out his hands in a nearly cupposed position, lifting one from the other, "twice."

Elora picked up when Deaton hesitated, "Door. That means door."

"And this in between it." Stiles dashed his thumb under his chin.

"That's it?" Deaton asked curiously.

Elora did the hand motioned as the Stilinski kid described, it perfect in execution.

Stiles nodded, almost a little creeped out. "Yeah, that's it."

"When is a door not a door?"

Stiles repeated the question almost disbelievingly, "When is a door not a door?"

"When it's ajar," Elora quietly said.

"You're kidding me. A riddle?" Stiles looked between Deaton and Elora, "My subconscious wants to tell me a riddle?"

"More like it wants you to answer one," Elora countered. She lightly sighed, realizing all at once what it meant.

By the looks of Deaton, he knew too.

Stiles' eyes flickered between the two of them, "Does somebody want to share with the rest of the class?"

"What I put the three of you under the water, when you crossed from unconsciousness to, basically, a superconsciousness...you essentially opened a door into your minds. And, uh, quite possibly mine as well."

"So what does that mean?" Stiles questioned. "The door's still open?"

"Ajar," corrected Deaton.

Stiles looked slightly bewildered, "A door into our minds?"

Elora only looked guilty, "I said there was a risk to it." She turned her eyes to Deaton, "What do we do?"

"Well," Deaton hesitated, "that's difficult to answer."