Notes:
Warning: This chapter includes listing of injuries sustained through torture. Not intended to be medically correct.
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Stiles may not be dead because he hears the beeping of hospital machines. He wakes up a little more when he feels someone touching his arm. The fact that he can feel his arm is shocking to him and the beeping noise speeds up.
"Stiles?!" It's his dad's voice, filled with relief and expectation. "Oh, thank God. Stiles? Wake up, son. Please, wake up now."
He tries to, he wants to.
But he's still so tired.
***
Stiles can't seem to progress from a state of continuing to wake up. He's constantly opening his eyes to different faces; his dad, his friends, nurses, doctors. But then he's pulled back under again and everything falls away.
He remembers waking up, then waking up, then waking up.
He has a time when Lydia grips his hand and he wants to weep for joy because he can feel it and he was sure his hands were gone.
He wakes to Scott staring at him and then yelling for someone because Stiles had opened his eyes.
One time, Derek moves back from being in his personal space as he comes to, but that is definitely a dream. Stiles doesn't even know where Derek is, let alone the reason why he'd be by Stiles' bedside.
When he finally manages to keep his eyes open and not fall back asleep almost immediately, he's alone and the room he's in is dark and quiet apart from the machines he's hooked up to. He can feel every part of his body and relishes the fact, even though he's incredibly sore and, he finds as he tries to shift just a fraction, also incredibly weak.
The door opens and the welcome form of Melissa comes into view. "Oh, honey," she says quietly and with relief, "there you are."
Stiles looks into her eyes and there's only compassion and love looking back. He starts to cry silently, tears that flow easily and quickly like a tap has been turned on.
Melissa holds his hand and places her other one on the side of his face. "I know, Stiles, I know," she whispers, wiping his tears with her thumb. She calls for another nurse to find the Sheriff and tell him his son is finally fully awake.
Stiles doesn't even have a chance to stop his tears before his dad is rushing into the room. Then they're both crying and he's being hugged too hard. His dad sits on the hospital bed and just leans into Stiles. It hurts everywhere his dad is touching but all he wants is for his dad to just keep hugging him and never let go. He rests his head up against his dad's shoulder, hating that he's too weak to give a proper hug back.
When his dad moves away, Stiles wants to hold him, keep the hug going, and feels almost desolate when it's over. His chest starts hurting and the monitors beep faster. He wants to talk but his throat is stinging and he can't reach to pull at the metal band around his neck.
His dad catches his fluttering fingers where they're rasping against the bed sheets and holds them gently.
Stiles makes a distressed whining noise that makes his throat burn. He tries to swallow but his throat is too dry and it keeps hurting as his breathing starts to get shallow.
He's staring at the ceiling when his dad holds an ice chip to his mouth. It melts quickly and he only has to open his lips slightly for the wonderful wetness to sooth the pain. As the burn lessons, Stiles calms and his head clears. The monitors slow down and his chest no longer feels like it wants to explode.
His dad holds up another ice chip. He's got a cup of them and Stiles bets it was Melissa who had the foresight to give it to him.
"Stiles, it's okay," his dad is telling him.
It's not, it's really not.
Stiles shakes his head slightly. He wants his dad to help him out here, but he can't speak to let him know what the problem is. Before he can spin into more panic, his dad shows him why he's the best dad ever and reads his mind.
"They're gone Stiles. They're all gone." His dad puts the cup down and gently lifts Stiles' hand, supporting his elbow.
A perfect white bandage is wrapped around his wrist instead of a cruel metal band and pin. His dad lifts his other hand to show him a second matching bandage.
Stiles swallows shallowly and winces at the pain. His dad lifts his hand further and Stiles touches his throat with fluttering fingers. He finds the edge of the bandage. He gets a finger underneath before his dad tsks at him and lies his arm back on the bed.
His dad keeps holding his hand and strokes his thumb gently over a patch of undamaged skin. "Okay?" he asks.
Stiles gives a shallow nod, because even though there's a hell of a lot wrong, he knows for sure that the poisonous metal is gone. He blinks away the tears that had formed again. Relief makes his head swim.
He manages to press his fingers into his dad's grip in thanks. His dad smiles crookedly in understanding.
Melissa enters the room, wanting to make sure everything was okay after the monitors had relayed Stiles' agitation to the nurses' station. His dad explains what had happened and Stiles finds himself falling asleep quickly after Melissa ups his pain medication. He couldn't stop from wincing when she'd checked inside his mouth and didn't try to stop her when she suggested more pain relief.
His dad stayed with him as he drifted off, telling Stiles he'd be there when he woke up again and how much he loved him.
***
The days go by, with Stiles spending more and more time awake.
As he comes back to himself, he makes an important decision. There's going to be a lot of questions for him as soon as they think he's capable of answering. He doesn't want to talk about what happened to him at all; he's having disturbing dreams and the memories hurt. He does his best to ignore most of what happened, though there are some parts that are crystal clear; parts he can't let go off, things he isn't going to tell anyone.
To give himself time before the questions start, he fakes listlessness and ignores the gentle overtures of the hospital staff.
With his throat still healing there's an excuse for being quiet, but his general tiredness and despondency starts to worry the nurses and his dad. Stiles knows he's being a bit of a dick towards everyone with his attitude but if he can flatten out everything in his brain, he'll know what to say when the time comes.
Eventually, he figures out enough and he starts to get restless. As restless as his body will let him be. He stops pretending but it still takes a whole week of being awake and alert enough during routine checks before anyone decides to talk to him about the abduction.
***
Stiles' bed has been raised a little so he's no longer lying flat, and it was great. He'd wanted to sit up fully, but Melissa had explained how he'd suffer dizziness and possible nausea with too sudden a change in position, so he'd made do with turning on his side and with only a slight tilt to the bed.
Strength was slowly returning to his body and Melissa had told him that someone would discuss exercise and conditioning options when he was ready. He was pretty sure whatever physiotherapy he'd be given would be horrible, but the fact that it was even an option had him excited enough that he didn't care about how bad it would be.
Scott and his dad had arrived pretty much together and Melissa left, saying she'd make sure they weren't interrupted. By the expression on both their faces, it was time to talk about what had happened. Stiles was ready for it. He had answers worked out and they were the truth. For the most part.
Stiles assumed the police had done their usual thing of starting local and then branching further out in their search for him. He wasn't going to ask his dad how the official search went. He'd never put much hope in that, honestly. It wasn't that he didn't put stock in his dad's job, or the police in general. It was just that when he was taken his immediate thought was the pack and his dad in an un-official capacity, would save him.
"We kept it simple for the official story," Scott started. He was leaning forward and was obviously very happy to be within touching distance of Stiles. He kept placing a hand on his foot or ankle through the bedsheets. They'd already had their emotional reunion when Stiles had been coherent enough for it, but Scott was still very clingy when he visited. Stiles soaked it up like a sponge. "I'm sorry, bro, but no one actually knew you were gone until your dad got home later that night."
Stiles waved away the apology. He didn't want Scott feeling guilty about something he shouldn't.
"Turning on the cameras was real smart, kiddo," his dad smiled with pride. "It helped us get a task force on your case quick smart. You kept your head in a difficult situation and gave us information we needed." There were unshed tears in his eyes.
Stiles croaked out, "Next?"
"It was honestly one of the worst times of my life. Of all of our lives," Scott continued.
Stiles snorts softly. What an understatement.
"We spent every moment looking for you. I swear I know Beacon Hills better than I ever did. You should know that Derek came back two days into your disappearance. I was surprised by how quickly he did, but now I understand why, and so, yeah, Derek helped find you." Scott patted Stiles' foot and gave him a tight smile that was all-knowing in a way that was entirely confusing.
Stiles wasn't sure how to react to the news that Derek was back. He was a bit blindsided by it but mostly he was feeling slightly nauseous. He was also starting to feel like he was being interrogated even though he hadn't been asked anything. His chest was a little tight.
His dad and Scott shot each other a glance that spoke volumes of something.
Stiles' chest tightened a little more.
"Breathe, Stiles. Focus on me, come on. That's it. Breathe with me," his dad said calmly.
Stiles stared at his dad and forced his breathing to match his. Slow, in and out, until the building panic had lessoned. His heart was thumping at a higher rate which had Scott leaning towards him, but the anxiety was fading.
"Should we keep going?" his dad asked.
Stiles nodded. He was curious as to how they'd found him.
"The official search turned up nothing. If it hadn't been for the pack and Derek, I think, though I hate to say it, we'd still be looking." Stiles' dad was obviously pretty annoyed about that. He frowned and slumped a bit in his chair.
"How?" Stiles whispered.
Scott shrugged. "Magic? Honestly we don't know. The clue that helped us find you, was you. At least we think it was."
Stiles stared at him.
Scott asked, "Do you remember anything strange happening when you were gone?"
Not understanding, Stiles shook his head the slightest bit.
Scott sighed. "Okay. Well, Lydia thought you were on the spirit plane."
Stiles narrowed his eyes as a memory tugged at him. He'd had so many dreams while in his cell, but he had a feeling there was something he needed to remember.
Scott kept talking. "One night, both Lydia and your dad swear they saw you for a second."
Stiles' dad nodded firmly. "It's true, as strange as it sounds."
Stiles should know this. It was so familiar.
"You really don't remember any of this?" Scott asked again.
Stiles shook his head once more. Scott and his dad were quiet while he tried to remember. The memories were shaky and fragmented but he manages to catch one. He can't be sure, but he asks, "A tree?"
Both Scott and his dad react like they'd been electrified, and Scott exclaims, "You did do it!"
Stiles' dad sits up and tightens his grip on Stiles' hand, but he says nothing.
Stiles still isn't sure what exactly is going on. He needs Scott to start explaining better or he's going to have to start asking more questions, damn his sore throat.
"Dude, Lydia swore you got a message to us, to me. It was about an orange tree. And you just mentioned it, so it must have actually happened!"
Stiles was slightly amused that Scott was so excited, but it obviously hadn't occurred to him how it was managed. His dad, though, had gone there first thing. The grip he had on Stiles' hand tightened further, without being hurtful.
"Stiles, just how did you do that?" his dad asked. "Lydia said it's spirits that she hears. How did she hear you?"
Scott sobered abruptly, working it out. "Oh."
Stiles didn't say anything, which was answer enough in itself.
The silence that descended on the three of them only highlighted just how close he'd come to death. They'd known it of course; he was dying when they found him, but being able to talk to Lydia on the spirit plane was a stark reminder.
Stiles didn't want to go into that right now. "Found me?" he asked.
"I didn't know what it meant! Orange tree. Really?" Scott shook his head.
Stiles just shrugged a little. He was pretty sure he was lucky to get that much to Lydia.
Scott sighed. "Anyway, I honestly didn't figure it out. It was Derek. He was methodical. It was amazing to watch really."
Stiles couldn't help but smile slightly and then stopped because his dad was watching him.
"He figured if your message was real, than you'd have to be somewhere both of us had been together. He got a huge map of Beacon Hills and marked those parts. It was like watching you do your thing with your boards. When I asked him, he said something about Malia once telling him to think like you."
Stiles hoped whatever chemo signals he was giving out at hearing that were not too telling, but Scott's hand pressed harder against his foot, so he was pretty sure he'd failed.
"Lydia researched orange trees around the county and Derek put them to his map, to find the places that overlapped where you and I had been. Then we searched each place. Derek checked a lot on his own. It's surprising how many places there were."
Stiles' dad cut in, "Lydia found a story about the down-town industrial area and the art that had been painted on the buildings. There were photos and one showed an orange tree."
"That's when I remembered!" Scott exclaimed. "We'd been skating down there just after the painting and your dad's deputies ran us out one day when the building owners got jack of us. You fell off your board and skinned your knees up pretty bad and we hid from the cruiser. While we waited for them to leave, we took a look at the new graffiti."
Stiles finished the story with a smile and slow words, "You liked the girls."
Scott grinned, saying in defense, "They were in belly dancing clothes!"
His dad rolled his eyes. "If ever I was grateful for my son's delinquent ways, it's for your habit of skating wherever you legally shouldn't. It saved your life. You saved your life."
Stiles shook his head. "No. You did." He couldn't take the credit for that, he'd been waiting to die. He'd given a clue, but they'd put the pieces together. Hell, Stiles hadn't even known at the time if the dream had been real. He'd just taken a chance. They'd figured it out. They'd found him. Derek had figured it out. "Derek," he started to say, but stopped.
"Yeah. He did," his dad agreed.
"Man who took me?"
His dad shook his head, "No. We didn't get him. But we will." His mouth twisted in distaste.
Stiles understood not having the man in custody would be weighing on his dad. Not just because it was his job, either. How did his dad compartmentalize the parts of himself that wanted revenge for what had been done to his son, when he was the Sheriff and supposedly had to do right by the law, even in this?
There was a short silence between the three of them, before his dad continued talking. "Finding you is the part that's tricky for the official story, We can't honestly say you sent a spirit message, or whatever, to a banshee, and a pack of supernatural creatures found you because of it. The easiest way was to create a fake tip off. And there you have it, that's everything."
Stiles put another mental tick to how many times his father had gone against his own morals for Stiles' sake. He understood a bit of creative record tampering was an appealing choice to make in light of everything, but still. He made small 'come here' motions until his dad leant over and gave Stiles his hug. "Thank you," he whispered into his dad's ear.
"Always, Stiles. You know this."
***
Stiles found out more about his injuries when Dr. Geyer came to visit shortly after his dad and Scott left. He hadn't asked before but wanted details now, and he'd apparently passed an undefined point in his recovery where Liam's dad thought he was capable of hearing them.
Stiles had talked to Liam about his dad before. More than once. It never ended well. Liam was still trying to live two separate lives, one where he was a super badass werewolf and the other where he was human and his parents had no idea it was a lie. Before his kidnapping, Stiles had told Liam that it was better when the people they loved were in the know. Now, after the kidnapping, Stiles was the king of hypocrisy.
Dr. Geyer stood at the bottom of Stiles' bed, notes in hand. "Okay, Stiles. We'll do a run down of everything if that's okay with you. If you prefer, your dad can be in the room for our conversation. I know he's somewhere about and we can find him if you'd like. He has given me the go ahead to talk to you without him, but it's your call."
Stiles shook his head. His dad was probably filling up on sugary foods in the hospital cafeteria, knowing his days of slacking on his diet were numbered. While Stiles was gearing up for the epic showdown on that, he didn't need his dad here while all of his injuries were being held up to the spotlight.
Dr. Geyer nodded. "Just so you know, your father was informed of your injuries to the extent that was required in order for him to give permission in regards to your care. This included all tests and your operations," he gestured to Stiles' wrists. "As Sheriff, and because your injuries are part of an ongoing case, he was also given a legally required brief on your condition."
This was pretty much as Stiles suspected, so he just nodded.
"Now, Stiles, this next piece of information is probably already known to you. When you were first admitted it was presumed that your injuries would prove fatal." It was obvious by the poignant pause he gave, that Dr. Geyer was watching Stiles' reaction very carefully. Stiles waited him out. "Hmm. Let's continue." Dr. Geyer gestured to the bed sheets. "May I?"
Stiles shrugged, so Dr. Geyer removed the sheets. Stiles looked down at his body and grimaced. He'd been holding off on having a good look at his injuries.
There were plasters covering pieces of skin and a soft cloth over his groin area, but what was visible made him look like a zombie movie extra. He was pleased that his legs were in surprisingly good shape when compared to the rest of him. They were more yellow and blue, rather than the black and purple of his chest and stomach.
Dr. Geyer continued talking as Stiles tried not to be too disgusted at the state his body was in. "On first admittance, you were unresponsive to stimuli and had extensive discoloration of the skin to most of your body. The worst is on your torso, neck, wrists and hands. In places, your skin was inflamed and in others, peeling. The admittance doctors initially assumed your internal organs were failing. But closer examination showed that while under stress, they are healthier than expected."
The bed sheet was placed back on Stiles and he sighed quietly.
"Your skin inflammation had me guessing at iron poisoning. Hair analysis showed a worrying high level of iron, but no other tests have been conclusive. Which is strange, don't you think?" Dr. Geyer quirked an eyebrow at him.
Stiles ignored the question and looked down at his forearms. He eyed the lines of skin-bleeding that looked like a child had taken a marker pen to him. Coupled with his bruises, he was a man of many colors.
Dr. Geyer pointed to the lines. "Your bruising is the result of your blood not clotting correctly after injury. You've lost weight too. The weight loss can make you feel lethargic and will contribute to any motor control issues. Are you experiencing this?"
"Yeah." It was a source of constant frustration.
"I am optimistic there will be no lasting effects because you've already shown signs of replacing what fat had been lost. The muscle will come with exercise and time. I'm happy to say your bruising has not gotten worse, only shown signs of healing. Which means whatever was causing the prolonged bleeding has righted itself." Dr. Geyer caught Stiles' eye. "A lucky break, you could say." He tapped his notes. "Your legs, including feet and knees, are in relatively good shape. Significant bruising, but no other injury. Next, and this is an important question, Stiles, but feel free to take your time to answer. There were a number of examinations that were required when you first arrived. We found no trace of anal tearing, but I need to ask you anyway. Were you subjected to any sort of sexual abuse?"
Stiles blinked. The man who'd taken him had not hinted at any sexual gratification, interest or even threat in that area. It occurred to him he'd been lucky in that regard. He forced himself to keep looking Liam's dad in the eye when he answered, "No. No sexual abuse." That should not have been so hard to say.
Dr. Geyer nodded like the answer was what he'd been expecting. "The urinary catheter will be removed when the swelling and bruising around that area has healed."
Stiles didn't want to think about the catheter. It was uncomfortable and somewhat embarrassing. He'd had to explain its purpose to Malia when she'd visited him and a nurse was in the middle of changing a bag. She'd barged in and the nurse had been angry at her for the intrusion. Stiles had just been thankful she hadn't been there a few seconds before when the nurse had the bedsheets and cloth folded back and had been checking the tube connection.
"Now about the large amount of bruising on your chest and stomach areas," Dr. Geyer paused and frowned. "If continuing with this is too much, Stiles, we can stop for a while. Or get your dad?"
Stiles had started to pant a little at the mention of his stomach. He took a breath, held it, and shook his head.
"There's evidence to suggest there was excessive pressure applied to your body in these areas. Is this something that happened?"
Stiles slowly nodded. The pain was still fresh in his mind. He could see the man leaning over him, pressing down.
"You don't need to go into details, Stiles. Let's continue. Your arms from your shoulders to elbows are bruised, but like your legs, are relatively sound." Dr. Geyer was watching Stiles very carefully. "Are you okay for me to talk about the injuries to your wrists?"
As that was the most obvious sign of physical torture, Stiles wasn't surprised by the question. He shrugged and then nodded. He had to deal with this part clinically or he'd have Melissa turn up to check him and the heart monitor. He wished they'd take it off. The sound had been turned down but was on constant relay to the nurses' central station. The monitoring was for his own good, but it annoyed him to have it.
"You underwent surgery on your wrists to remove the metal bands. You will have slight scarring where the metal pierced your skin but you should have full wrist function when completely healed. Luckily, there was no major damage done to bone or soft tissue."
Stiles looked at the bandages covering his wrists. He flexed his fingers slightly.
"The swelling and bruising of your hands make them look worse than they are. Some of the skin has split on the knuckles, hence the plasters, but that will also heal. You have no major nerve or tendon damage. Although you'll have full movement, there may be discomfort with bad weather."
His voice showed sympathy at Stiles' inability to hide the effect these words had on him. The fact he had movement in his hands had caused a few tears to slip down his cheeks before he'd blinked them away. Dr. Geyer had no idea how scared Stiles had been when he'd been lying in his cell, believing his hands had died. He'd been so sure they were going to fall off.
He pressed his fingertips softly to the bed to feel the sensation. His hands may make a full recovery but they looked pretty gross right now. The skin was a range of hues, none of them healthy looking. His fingernails made him look like a goth wannabe. Black on black with a touch more black. He'd been told by Melissa he'd loose them as new ones grew to replace the dead nails. That was a disgusting idea which Stiles didn't want to dwell on.
"I'm going to stress to you, Stiles, even though the nurses and myself have already mentioned this, how careful you have to be about talking. What we haven't discussed is the extreme swelling, soft tissue damage and signs of vein decay to your neck and throat. Do you remember having injections in this area?"
Stiles shook his head.
"None at all?" Dr. Geyer looked confused. "It was the most obvious reason. Another curious injury, Stiles. They are adding up, aren't they?" That was the third time Liam's dad had hinted he was working with limited knowledge because Stiles wasn't telling him everything. It was unsettling. "The vein collapse should heal soon and your voice should slowly return to normal when the swelling of your throat goes down. But no strenuous speaking and no yelling at all. You pulled a breathing tube when you first showed signs of consciousness. It was replaced with an oxygen mask which was removed before you woke up fully."
Stiles doesn't remember any of that.
"Your face will have no lasting damage."
The bleeding-line bruising around Stiles' wrists had also occurred up his neck, onto his jaw, and partly up his cheeks and ears. He'd already had a close look when Lydia had held a mirror up for him because Mason had visited and made a comment Liam had punched him in the arm for. With deep dark circles under his eyes, along with everything else, Stiles had silently agreed with Mason about being ready for halloween.
Dr. Geyer checked the watch on his jacket pocket and cast a look at the door. "I'm curious, Stiles. Your most prominent injuries are localized to your neck and wrist areas where the metal bands were. Do you have any information that could help explain that?"
"How would I know anything about it?" Stiles' voice failed at the end and came out as a harsh whisper. He coughed until he took a sip of the water Dr. Geyer held out for him. He hadn't been kidding about the talking.
Stiles possibly did have iron poisoning. He'd not actually been aware it was something that could happen to people. But the man who took him had explained why he'd suffer from it. If Stiles believed him, the reason was also why his symptoms didn't follow the normal human reaction to it.
Putting the band on his neck was the first thing the man had done to him, the very first day, as soon as he'd been dragged into the cell. Stiles remembered laughing as he'd been told how it would kill him. Half a day later he'd started to throw up and couldn't stop. By the end of the second day, dizzy from vomiting and stomach cramps, dehydrated and hurting everywhere, Stiles had started to listen to what the man was saying.
Dr. Geyer frowned at Stiles. "You're lying."
Stiles wasn't going to be swayed by that and gave him a very unimpressed look. He also managed to croak out, "Why would I?"
"Don't take me for a fool, Stiles. Ever since my family and I have moved here I have been witness to strange things occurring nearly every week. Including injuries with no sensible reasons behind them, healing at exceptional rates, or even healing when it should not occur at all. You, Stiles, are exhibiting all three."
Stiles swallowed slowly, and Dr. Geyer tracked the movement. "You're friends with my son. He's also shown accelerated healing, even though, he too, tries to hide it from me."
Stiles was sure at any moment Melissa, or which ever nurse was on duty, was going to barge into his room demanding to know why the heart monitor was telling them he was going into cardiac arrest.
"Calm down, Stiles." Dr. Geyer had the decency to look apologetic. "You're looking at me like I'm the bad guy. I'm here to help you. If you won't tell me what you know, I will go with what is explainable and, as I have done before, ignore what isn't."
Stiles had never expected to hear a doctor say anything like that. His skepticism was apparently easy to read.
"Believe me, Stiles, there have been weirder things in this hospital than you. Just answer me this so I know I am not putting your life in danger with my ignorance. Is there anything you haven't told me that I need to know?"
Stiles took his time before he slowly shook his head.
"But there is something, isn't there."
Stiles neither shook or nodded his head.
Dr. Geyer looked disappointed. "Alright. If you have any questions, all you have to do is ask." He walked out of the room.
***
Parrish came in the next day and went through Stiles' statement with him. It should have been the easiest one he'd ever done, as his dad had written it for him beforehand and he only needed to sign off on parts and add a little bit of information here and there. The most important being what had happened before he'd turned the camera on and what happened after the man had found and broken his phone, bound his hands and feet, gagged him and dragged him outside into a nondescript car.
The phone breaking had been excessive and unnecessary, but after having spent time with the man Stiles understood it had been a way for him to show power.
Stiles had told Parrish about the paralyzing injections. He also told him the boot of the man's car had smelt really bad. Like rotten curry. Being bound and tossed in the back had made sure Stiles got to smell it up close. He'd been going to vomit into his gag, it had been so strong. He'd passed out from it after a few minutes. Parrish had found that piece of information interesting so Stiles felt he'd done some good by mentioning it.
He left out the part where the man told him he was going to kill him.
It was obvious he'd almost died, but if Stiles said the man was actively working towards it he'd never be left alone again. Everyone would be convinced the man would come back because he hadn't managed it. Stiles wasn't really worried that the man had managed to escape. Well, he was. But the man wouldn't come back because he'd learnt what he wanted to. It hadn't been personal. Not really. So the chances of him coming into contact with the man again could be considered pretty slim.
Stiles kept the report of his time in the cell to minimal facts. It helped that he could say he was out of it for great lengths of time, because while true, the man had spoken to him a lot before it had gotten that bad. Stiles made sure he never mentioned the man's curiosity. Or the reason he gave as to why Stiles had been taken. Sure, Parrish would have believed him, being a hellhound himself, but it wasn't something that could be put in a police report.
It turns out, so Parrish told him, his cell was just a room in a storage building.
Parrish had looked up from where'd he'd been amending the report and asked, "Why do you call it a cell?"
Stiles wasn't sure. It had always been his cell, so he'd just shrugged. Parrish had eyed him curiously, but said nothing else about it.
Unfortunately, Stiles couldn't give any further description of the man than what was already known from the video footage, and he never got a name.
When there was nothing else the police needed to know, Stiles just made the appropriate noises until Parrish said he was happy that Stiles was back and getting better. He also said that Stiles had been exceptionally brave.
Stiles' polite smile had fallen off his face as soon as the door closed behind Parrish. He lifted a hand and watched it shake for a few seconds before he lowered it.
***
Just as Stiles suspected, his dad had been a force of nature through the hospital after he'd read the revised statement later that afternoon. But Stiles had done his best to explain he wasn't worried, so his dad shouldn't be either. He could tell his dad wasn't buying it and possibly thought Stiles was in denial.
That was confirmed the next day when a therapist come to visit to him. Stiles had known it was hospital policy after an abduction, but his dad and the therapist had greeted each other like they'd met before. His dad had walked out the door as the therapist turned a professional smile on him.
Therapy was important and Stiles had benefited from it in the past. His childhood therapist had worked with him after his mom died and the report with him had been good. But this was a formality. He didn't know this one. Only that she said her name was Clarice and was one of the hospital's on call therapists. After ignoring all the Silence of the Lambs jokes running through his head as they hit a little too close to home, Stiles decided he wasn't going to open up to her.
He did his best in the subsequent sessions to give the impression of someone working through mental and physical trauma in a healthy way. He managed to get the all clear in a relatively short period of time by giving the answers that were needed. It helped his dad at least, some of the tension leaving his shoulders when he heard Stiles was coping as well as could be expected.
Stiles was lying to his dad. Again. Yeah, he was coping, but he had more important things he wanted to focus on than if he had any resentment or fear about what had occurred. Of course he did, but that was not important right now. He promised himself he would make it up to his dad as soon as he could.
***
Stiles was trying, he really was, but physiotherapy sucked. He ached and burned but he grit his teeth and kept going.
After a week his physiotherapist had remarked to his dad about Stiles' determination when his dad walked in on a session.
His dad had laughed and said, "Don't I know it. He's always been the most stubborn person I've ever met, apart from his mother."
Stiles had ducked down to hide his face as the physiotherapist and his dad shared a laugh, and focussed on talking the next step with his walking stand.
He also had a dietitian, now his throat had healed enough and he'd been taken off the IV drip. His dad acted like that was hilarious. Stiles had to eat a certain amount of food each day to help build up his body mass. It was a difficult balance, his dietician told him, because while he needed energy foods rich in protein, calcium and everything else, he also needed to reduce his iron intake. He couldn't eat certain foods because they helped him retain it. He had a list of foods and liquids to make it easier for him to understand what he could have.
His dad had been chortling away over the prescribed dinner one night, when Stiles had said with only a little throat pain, "Come on, old man. Don't even try to tell me you haven't been ignoring your diet for the past month. I know it, you know it, Scott knows it. Hell, even Melissa knows it. And she's the one who told on you, so don't deny it."
His dad's look of innocence and spluttered defense was funny.
Melissa chose that moment to walk into his room. "What?" she said defensively to the half-hearted glare leveled at her.
Stiles huffed out a little laugh.
If his laugh had caused both Melissa and his dad to get happy looks on their faces, he didn't need to acknowledge it. He just kept eating his dinner.
***
Being in hospital was starting to dip into Stiles' limited reserves of patience.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, determinedly trying not to dwell on the fact that even though everyone had visited him in the hospital a couple of times, there was one noticeable absentee. He couldn't even ask anyone why Derek hadn't visited, because, well, why would he?
To the outside world, Derek and Stiles had a volatile and hard to explain friendship. If they'd had a bit longer, it could have developed and gotten stronger. It had been going that way. Derek had been opening up, and Stiles had been liking what he saw.
Not for the first time, Stiles cursed the women in Derek's life for creating such insurmountable obstacles that he never stood a chance at achieving anything deeper with him. Not that Stiles had known he even wanted that. He was such an idiot.
And just because Derek had apparently dropped his life to save him, didn't mean anything when the last time they were with each other there hadn't actually been words. It had been more of a wordless goodbye, filled with a long stare and head nod on Derek's side, and Stiles left feeling like he'd been punched in the chest but confused as to why.
Stiles didn't even know if Derek was still in Beacon Hills. Perhaps he'd done his Superman impersonation for the year and had flown off to parts unknown now that Stiles was no longer in need of rescue.
He was getting steadily more depressed when Scott bounded into his room.
They sat on his bed and talked about what had been going on in school and the fact there a new kind of supernatural in the preserve, but as they could only catch a scent they didn't know what it was. While Stiles was interested, especially about the new creature, he obviously didn't hide his preoccupation very well because Scott eventually stopped talking and sat watching him.
"Stiles?"
Stiles turned his head towards him, but his eyes stayed on the sky outside his window. "Hmm?"
"I wanted to let you know Derek is still here."
Stiles tried to act only slightly interested. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"When's he leaving?"
"He's, ah. He's not."
"No?"
"No."
Stiles did his best nonchalant impression. "Did he happen to say why he's not going back to wherever he was?"
Scott tipped his head a little, first one way then the other. Stiles wanted to make a dog joke but didn't. "He was going to go, but I asked him to stay."
Stiles guessed that made sense. He had a low hollow feeling in his gut, but the fact was Derek could do as he wished. So if he chose to stay for Scott, Stiles would support that. He could be ... okay, with that.
"He's going to be pack, maybe," Scott added.
"Well, that's good then, that would help you both, you'll have another pack member, one that knows his stuff, and Derek won't be so alone, so it's a good idea. Good for you, Scott." Stiles carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.
"Stiles, that's not —"
"Did I tell you I get to go home this week?" Stiles asked, changing the subject. "I'm going to progress to a cane in the next few days and then I'm good to go!" There was a bit more to it than that, but he was grabbing at straws.
Scott frowned but dropped whatever he'd been going to say. Instead, he placed his hand on Stiles' shoulder. Warmth travelled into Stiles' skin from the contact. It felt good enough for him to take a moment just to soak it up. He assumed it must be another wolf power Scott had developed but when he didn't mention it, neither did Stiles. The moment ended when Scott removed his hand, the warmth ebbing away leaving Stiles slightly cold.
For the rest of the visit, they made plans to hang out when Stiles got home and have everyone over for a movie night. He was looking forward to that piece of normal but wasn't brave enough to ask if Derek would be there.