Chapter 14
He’s confused. So fucking confused. And kinda terrified. Cause Derek is here, and Stiles isn’t sure if he’s real or not.
On top of everything he’s frustrated too, which he thinks is a little ridiculous, because he can barely even tell what he’s feeling through the drugs, and though he can’t feel the frustration, he knows it’s there. This is the kind of situation that he would find frustrating if he could feel…anything. Mostly he’s not even conscious, or maybe he is and he just can’t tell. Between the nightmares, and Void driving him to a whole new level of insanity, and Derek being here…he can’t tell what’s real and what’s actually nightmares.
He doesn’t even really have time to figure out Derek, because he spends most of the time he is awake either having panic attacks because of Void, or having panic attacks because of magic – which only makes it worse – or hyperventilating, or refusing to make the lichen medicine to keep Void out of his head because he’s terrified of the idea that he’ll take over someone else, someone he loves.
So really, most of the time there isn’t even room in his head for Derek, except he’s all Stiles can think about. If he’s real, Stiles is terrified, because they barely survived this the first time and to say that their luck is shitty is the understatement of the century. If Derek is real then that’s another person that he has to worry about whether or not he might kill, and Derek has had so much shit happen to him, and Stiles has this horrible feeling like his body is freezing from the inside out every time he thinks about that.
But if Derek isn’t real, then he’s even more terrified, because up until now Void hasn’t been able to make new things. He’s only been able to manipulate things that were already there. But if Derek isn’t real, then Stiles thinks that Void is really back. And if he is, then he can’t take the Lichen. If he’s real, he knows it’s only a matter of time until all the nasty things Void taunts him with become reality instead of just nightmares.
His father pleads with him, they all do, but watching his father sob into James or Steve or Pepper in the moments when he just wakes up before they know he’s awake kills Stiles faster than Void ever could. Void doesn’t mess with his head in those moments, probably because he knows that nothing he could say would hurt nearly as much as reality at that point. Stiles prefers nightmares and hallucinations to that.
Careful what you wish for though, right?
Stiles dreams are filled with death and horror, like usual, but what’s new is that he’s not all the way asleep. He’s just conscious enough to hear the people near him talking, to each other, looking for a plan, but mostly to him. Individually, when everyone else is asleep or getting food and showers, they all beg him to live.
His dad sobs some more. He can’t lose his wife and his son, he just can’t.
Pepper and Tony both tell him that they’ve come to think of him like a son and plead with him to beat this.
Natasha threatens him.
Clint tries to, but he ends up quietly crying a lot.
Bruce tells him that if he can beat this once, he can do it again. To please, do it again.
Steve holds his hand – something he can almost feel – and talks about losing James, and getting him back, and how hard he fought, and that he can see that Stiles is fighting just as hard and he’s going to win.
During one of the longer breaks, he’s stuck waiting in his nightmares for the next person to beg him to live. Who will it be? Derek? James? Fitz-Simmons?
He’s living in a loop of being forced to kill the people he loves. It starts off with Allison, goes through the Pack, then the Avengers, then randomly recycles, getting more and more gruesome each time. He can’t even feel it, but at the same time, he feels it all time a million. It’s hell, he wants to scream, cry, beg, do anything. Instead, he has to just lay there and accept that there’s nothing he can do about it.
After what must be the seventeenth time he’s killed Derek in his dreams a voice cuts through the nightmares.
“Stiles,” James whispers, sounding physically close to him, but it’s still so far away. “I know that you’re sleeping right now, but I need to you listen, okay?” There’s a long pause, during which he strangles Isaac to death and rips Bruce’s heart out of his chest. “I know what it’s like to not be in control of your own body, to not know what’s real. It’s torture. I’m sure that everyone is begging you to fight right now, and god, Stiles, I want to beg too. Watching you like this is…But I’m not going to do that, because I’ve been here, and I know how hard it is. So instead, I’m going to say what I needed someone to say to me: It’s okay. It's okay to lose the war. If you can’t do it anymore, if you don’t have anymore to give, then it’s okay to give up. We won’t hate you for dying. All I’m saying is that – at the very least – I understand and it’s okay.” In the pause where James has to do some breathing exercises to calm himself down, Allison, Pepper, Steve, Boyd, and Lydia all die again. “For the record, Stiles, I think you’ll make it. I know how hard this is, and I know without a doubt that you are the strongest person I know, so if anyone can do it, it’s you. Just, don’t give up just yet, okay, we still have a few tricks up our sleeve.”
It goes quiet again and he goes back to his nightmares.
Fitz-Simmons both offer words of encouragement on their turns.
Stiles wakes up shortly after Derek’s turn – which he very firmly, doesn’t want to talk about. James is the closest to him, and already up out of his seat with a glass of water.
Instead of grabbing the glass Stiles puts his hand on his arm, temporarily taking comfort in the warmth that radiates off of him and says, “Thank you.” In a quiet, scratchy voice that hurts his throat. He wishes he could see his face without the freaking parasite demon in his brain trying to torture him. Still, he hears him open his mouth to respond and stops him, “Don’t say anything. No one say anything, just, give me a minute.”
He manages to drink the glass of water – ignoring the painful cramps from his stomach at suddenly having something in it so suddenly (apparently, it’s gotten used to whatever they’re putting in the feeding tube that’s currently bothering the shit out of him, and the rate at which it’s set) – before taking a minute to pull himself together, and say, “No one talk, anymore, please. He can’t make it…if you aren’t talking then I won’t hear him talking through you.” The silence that follows lifts a weight off of his shoulders, he breathes a little easier. “I have a plan. You’ll hate it, but it’s the only way this goes down. I need a pen, and a piece of paper.”
*****
The worry in his gut solidifies to straight of fear and a hell of a lot of dread when Chris Argent gets to the room one of the nurses at the nurses' station points him to and sees Derek Hale and Sheriff Stilinski both waiting for him, looking like hell frozen over.
“John, Derek.” He greets them, a growing sense of unease filling his stomach and making him nauseous. There’s only one reason these two men would both be here looking like this, and he had thought that the boy had already won this battle. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”
“It’s easier to just show you.” John says tiredly. “When we go in, don’t talk. No matter what. And don’t expect him to look at you.”
He nods, thoroughly confused.
When the three of them walk into the room to see what Chris is pretty sure is a superhero holding a bin for a very sick looking Stiles Stilinski to vomit in, he doesn’t even register anything at first. For a while he’s stuck, fear and anger and grief running through him, because the shell of a boy in front of him doesn’t really look like Stiles anymore, he looks like Void.
It takes every ounce of control he has to keep his hands steady and not reach for his gun. Once Stiles stops vomiting he sits back in the bed and spots Chris. He waits for something to happen, but Stiles only looks him up and down, completely avoiding his face before going pale, and closing his eyes for a minute, muttering something under his breath and makes Derek look ill, before opening his eyes and addressing him.
“Chris.” He smiles without much humor, and it cracks one of his lips and makes it look like his cheekbones will cut through his skin at any moment. He tries not to grimace. “Thanks for coming. I know you have questions, but, please don’t say anything. I’ll explain it all. It’s simple, really, I think it’s coming back and I need you to shoot me.”