missing scenes - part 1
His blood is pounding in his ears. The wound on his chest still stings, and his fingers and toes continue to tingle and feel slightly numb from Tracy’s venom. But he’s okay. He is fine. Lydia isn’t. She was the one bleeding out on the floor of the police station. She could've died. She still might not make it. He takes a breath as Melissa approaches them.
“Stiles,” she says, but barely acknowledges him.
“How bad is it?”
She passes him. “Could’ve been worse.” It’s a short reply, but Stiles doesn’t blame her. She’s in work mode, focused, and ready to save Lydia’s life. That’s what counts. That’s what Stiles needs to focus on as well. “Theo, nice going on that tourniquet. Probably saved her life.”
Hearing these words, Stiles' world narrows. More than it should. His whole being forces him to turn his head. He can feel Theo’s eyes on him already and holds his gaze. His chest constricts as he sees the soft expression on the other boy’s face. Sorrowful. Helpless. Theo looks almost sad as if he’s worried Lydia might not make it. Maybe he is.
No.
Clinging to his belief that Theo is up to something is the only thing that keeps him sane. Stiles nods, acknowledging that, yes, Theo did save her life. But at what cost? He turns away, ignoring Scott’s eyes boring into the side of his head. Everything makes him feel sick. His stomach twists painfully, and Stiles takes a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on Melissa again.
“She’s about to go into surgery. So, it’s going to be a while. Are there any supernatural details I need to know about or do we just stitch her up and hope for the best?” That doesn't sound very professional. Why would she say that? Why—
Oh god.
Stiles forces himself to take another deep breath. They’re at the hospital. Lydia is in the best care possible. It's going to be fine. She's going to be okay.
Kira steps forward, her voice quiet but determined. “It was the tail.” By the sound of it, she’s holding it together as much as Stiles is — barely enough not to break down in the middle of the hospital hallway. Stiles wants to grab her hand, give her some form of reassurance, but he tightens his grip on his own hands instead and reminds himself to breathe. How could he do anything for her if his world is crumbling around him? His best friend has almost been killed. Theo saved her life because Stiles froze in the doorway. He still feels the way he was looking at him, still feels his body shifting underneath the palm of his hand as he pushed past, still sees Lydia’s reassuring smile.
It's going go be okay.
“Yeah,” Scott cuts in when Melissa doesn’t respond, and Kira struggles for words — or with her voice, “Tracy cut her with the tail. If that makes a difference.”
Melissa looks at Scott for a moment, not saying anything. It’s hard to tell if she understands the full extent of what it means. But nobody says it. Nobody says that she’s been poisoned by a kanima. They should. They should tell her, remind her, make her understand. “Okay.” Melissa nods and leaves. Maybe she knows. Maybe she does understand.
Stiles watches her leave.
“But it wasn’t just Tracy,” Malia urges, continuing the conversation she tried to push on Theo and Stiles on their way here. “There were others.” She’s looking at Stiles. He can feel her eyes, feel her gaze pricking like little needles on his skin. “The guys in the masks.” She doesn’t look away, waiting for someone, for Stiles, to reply. But Stiles can’t give her what she wants. He can’t give her an answer. He doesn’t want to give her an answer because he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about guys in masks, he doesn’t care about Tracy, he doesn’t care about anything but Lydia. Everything else can wait. Everything else has to wait.
Stiles takes a deep breath. His hands are shaking, and he curls them into tight fists. He needs to sit down. He needs to do something other than standing around. “I—” Stiles stops, shaking his head. He doesn’t know what exactly he needs other than being alone, other than wanting Malia to stop staring at him like he has all the answers, like he needs to be there for her instead of the other way around. It’s not her best friend that’s currently dying. Malia’s first instinct isn’t to save her or anybody. She still doesn’t care. Not really.
And Stiles can’t deal with that right now.
Without another word, Stiles turns on his heels and walks off.
------
Stiles doesn’t notice immediately that the person sitting down next to him isn’t just another patient or family member. Mostly because his friends would’ve immediately tried to cheer him up or distract him. Aside from Malia. She would’ve told him that he reeks of sadness, would’ve maybe even asked him what’s wrong. It’s a relief to know it’s not her, which probably makes him a terrible boyfriend. But he can’t bring himself to care.
Nurses rush past. A woman has succumbed to her tears. Somewhere, someone is yelling. It’s the usual madness, and Stiles wishes the noises would distract him, but in truth he is way too used to them. It’s one of the perks of having spent more than enough time in hospitals during his childhood. There’s nothing that freaks him out. Not the smell. Not the hysterics of people.
Just Lydia fighting for her life during surgery.
Eventually, Theo shifts next to him. “You should eat something. Or drink.” He pauses, crossing his arms loosely over his thighs. “It’ll take a while, and we can’t do anything.”
Stiles squeezes his hands together. “I’m not leaving.”
“I didn’t say you should leave. I said—”
“I want to be alone,” Stiles interrupts him, squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t do this right now. He can’t talk to Theo and keep his guard up. He can’t hold his shit together, pretending everything is fine. He doesn’t even have the energy to remind him that they’re not on the same side, and that he’s not going to trust him no matter how often he saves Lydia’s life.
Theo huffs out a breath. “No, you’re not,” he says, leaning back in the uncomfortable hospital chair. “You don’t wanna be alone. Being alone scares you because there’s nothing that keeps the thoughts away. You just don’t want to talk. That’s why you’re sitting in the lobby of a hospital.”
Stiles grinds his teeth. “Don’t psychoanalyse me.” Being known is scary. Being known means his secrets are out in the open. His fears. His worries. His true feelings about Malia. His thoughts about Scott, this pack, and how it’s slowly falling apart no matter how hard he tries to duct-tape it together. The end of senior year will be the end of them. Right now, Stiles hopes they’ll make it this far. Lydia could be dying. Scott isn’t taking him seriously any longer. Liam and Mason are doing their own thing. Something is up with Kira.
“I don’t have to,” Theo replies in a soft voice, “you told me.”
You told me. Three little words causing Stiles’ world to shift. Three little words shouldn’t have such an impact. But they have. And they hurt. Because that means this is Theo. The real Theo. His ‘friends forever’ Theo. This is the little boy he shared everything with. This is the little boy who vanished without saying goodbye. This is the little boy he wrote numerous letters to that he never sent but burnt one night when he was home alone. Stiles heard from his father that Tara died. Stiles heard from his father that the Raekens left.
That Theo left him.
Stiles curls his hands into fists, blunt nails digging into his palms. He takes a breath, forcing himself to relax. “Just go.”
But Theo doesn’t move. “I don’t think you should be alone right now,” he says it like he knows what Stiles needs. It’s bullshit. Just because this really is Theo doesn’t mean he’s going to trust him, or that he knows him, or that everything can go back the way it used to be. These are only a few things Stiles wants to tell Theo, but not now. He can’t deal with this right now.
Without another word, Stiles covers his face with his hands, trying to ignore Theo shifting into a more comfortable position next to him.
It’s going to be a long night.