Medical
medical.
008
"You know when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out. It's called voluntary apnea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. But then when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's - it's actually kind of peaceful."
•
Ever since Stiles was diagnosed with ADHD- and later on, a panic disorder- he found that making lists was a way for him to feel some sort of calm, even if it was only for a little bit of time.
It comforted him, reminding him that despite the immense panic or the full on jitteriness he might be feeling, he's still grounded to reality.
And recently he came to the realization that there was only two topics that he could really focus on when it came to chalking things up into a list- what he missed about Beacon Hills and who he was.
As he gradually stopped thrashing in the frozen abyss that was the water he was trapped in, he opened his mouth and took his mind off of drowning and onto his beloved lists.
My name is Miezcysław Stilinski- Stiles for short.
The world was dark now but his mind was bright. In ninth grade, he read an article about how scientists found that the brain still works for seven minutes after dying- he never thought he'd find out if it was true so early.
I'm seventeen years old and I'm supposed to be a junior in high school.
Two months ago, if you would've asked Stiles if he would miss school, he'd laugh in your face.
My dad is the Sheriff. I miss him more than anyone.
He always thought he'd go into law enforcement, maybe work as a detective. He was pretty good with research and putting pieces together, so it would be easy. He's always wanted to be like his dad, and it kills him everyday that he never got to say goodbye.
My best friend is Scott McCall. I miss him.
The story of how they met was one that Stiles found embarrassing to tell because no matter how funny the memory is, there's nothing fun to remember about peeing on a sandcastle in pre-school.
My best friend is a badass True Alpha.
And dammit Scott was good at being a True Alpha. Scratch that, he was good at being a leader.
I've had a crush on Lydia Martin since third grade-
Now, that was a good memory to look back on, because the first time he spotted Lydia Martin was something he could never forget. Third grade was a good year, the year before his life started falling apart.
-and Lydia Martin didn't acknowledge my existence until sophomore year.
In a way, it wasn't entirely true, because after his mom died when he was eleven, Lydia gave him half of her lunch when his dad forgot to make him one for school.
I like to play lacrosse even though I'm awful at it.
At first, Stiles had been hesitant when it came to signing up for sports in middle school, but when Scott used his goddamn puppy dog eyes on him, he reluctantly signed up for lacrosse.
Most of my fr-
The next bullet on Stiles list was cut off with the startling realization that he was slowly able to breathe, and suddenly, the only thing he could think of was oh my god, this is the third time he's drowned and it hasn't even been a year, can't he just be done?
Stiles was becoming more aware, the darkness slipping away as he felt something thumping against his chest, barely missing the arc reactor that inhabited his torso.
He wanted nothing more but to escape into the realm of the unconscious, but as he felt his chest heave again, he was left with no other choice but to shoot up, his body twisting to the side as he fell into a coughing fit, every ounce of water he digested coming back up.
He gasped, clutching his chest, acutely aware of the hands touching his arms. Now that his eyes were open, Stiles found that he could not focus. He felt like he was still underwater- the voices around him were garbled and his vision was shot to hell. Why couldn't they just let him die?
A flinch rocked his body as he was moved- to where? He had no idea. For all he knew, he could still be in the grasps of HYDRA.
He desperately wanted to fight as something was placed over his mouth, but he was exhausted. He looked up, his vision still hazy, but he was barely able to make out a face above him- their mouth was moving, but Stiles heard nothing.
His eyelids fluttered, the world beginning to spin around him. His head lulled to the side, whatever was on his face moving with him. It was weird being this disoriented, something he hasn't really felt before, even with all the concussions he's dealt with in the past.
A faint snapping sounded in his ears, but he ignored it. Dark spots were beginning to replace his blurry vision, the darkness growing.
And right before the world disappeared around him, he could've sworn he saw his mom smiling at him.
•
"I'm fine. Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible's about to happen."
•
"I'm here to save my best friend."
Stiles was standing in front of a chain link fence with Scott, Kira, Allison, and Isaac standing in front of him.
"I came to save mine."
Confusion sprouted in him when Scott looked at him with a worried glance. How was he here? Wasn't he just submerged under water a second ago?
"I just didn't feel like doing any homework." His eyes darted towards Isaac, unsure if this was real or not. Only Isaac 'i-wear-scarves-in-the-summer' Lahey would make that kind of comment.
Stiles followed them through the opening of the fence, only for them to be stopped by Kira's mother- "Kira, go home. Take your friends with you."
Honestly, he had no idea what the hell was going on. He had gathered that they were saving Lydia, but from what? And why was Noshiko Yukimura here?
"I can't." Kira denied. "When I looked at the game, I realized who was playing. You."
Stiles found himself abandoning the others as he followed Scott into an old building, "She's here," The sound of his best friend's voice was so foreign to Stiles at the moment. "This way."
He followed him down a narrow hall, stumbling wildly in the footsteps of the True Alpha. His feet did not seem to be inheriting the signals his brain was sending them.
Stiles felt exhausted, but for some reason, he felt something burning inside his chest, something pushing him to follow Scott. He needed to find Lydia, the only question was:
Who took her?
"Lydia!" Stiles shouted, his voice hoarse. His heart burst as the sight of the strawberry blonde came into view.
He missed her so much.
"Are you alright?" Both he and Scott checkered her over, only for Lydia to push them away.
"No, no, no! Why are you here?" Her voice was hysterical.
"Lydia, we're here for you." It took him a second to realize the words were coming out of his mouth. It felt so scripted, he had no idea why he was saying it.
"You aren't supposed to be here! Didn't you get my message?"
What message?"
"Lydia, what's happening?" Scott asked worriedly.
"Who's here?" She panicked. "Who came with you? Who else is here?"
Scott's eyebrows furrowed, "Isaac, Kira, and Alli-"
Lydia paled, shaking her head wildly. "No, Scott, no. We need to go. Now."
And once again, they were running. Stiles was struggling to keep up, his energy levels diminishing faster and faster.
It seemed as if Scott was having the opposite issue, as the True Alpha seemed to be running faster by the second.
Never one to back down, Stiles pushed through the pain. He still no idea where he was or what the hell was happening, but the look on Lydia's face was strong enough to tell him that something awful was going to happen.
However, it was only a matter of time before it felt like Stiles' heart was going to jump out of his chest. The teen stumbled forward, practically running into the wall that was to the side of him. He gasped as he held his chest, his stride coming to a stop.
Lydia looked behind her, the girl pausing right when she noticed Stiles' staggered movements. "Scott!" She turned back, calling for the alpha for help, but it was too late.
He was gone.
"Lydia," Stiles whimpered. "I can't...I can't." He stumbled forward, Lydia practically diving towards so he wouldn't slam his face into the ground.
"Stiles, it's okay, come on. We can make it." But even she knew it wasn't true, as she lowered both of them to the ground.
Stiles' head fell back onto the concrete wall, his eyes heavily lidded. God, he felt awful.
The world was spinning around him as Lydia's smooth, bony fingers held his cheeks, lightly tapping his skin in attempts to bring him back.
Suddenly, it felt like the world had stopped as Lydia's hands fell from his face. Stiles was barely conscious, his body and his mind too exhausted to even keep up with whatever was going on at the moment.
But before he could drop off into the darkness, Lydia's cry of pure anguish and pain filled his ears,
"Allison!"
Stiles gasped, his eyes snapping open. His chest heaved upwards as a cry of pain left his lips. He was surprised to find an oxygen mask covering this mouth and his nose but he really couldn't bring himself to be able to focus on it.
Lydia's scream was still ringing in his ears and it didn't help that the pain in his body was mixing with the throbbing headache he had. At the moment, Stiles didn't see any other choice but to squeeze his eyes shut, trying to will the feeling away.
His jaw clenched, somewhat loosening the oxygen mask , causing it to slightly slide down his nose. He couldn't find the will to care enough to adjust it, all due to the face that he was currently trying to swallow his oncoming panic, but really? Who was he kidding? Waking up in a hospital bed in some unknown location was unsettling on its own, it didn't help that he felt so unbelievably disoriented.
After what seemed like forever, Stiles opened his eyes, blinking slowly up at the white ceiling. He made a move to brush a hand through his hair, only to hiss in discomfort when something pulled at his wrist.
At first, he thought that he was handcuffed to the sides of the bed, but upon further inspection, he was met with an IV inserted in the wrist of his left arm.
His eyebrows furrowed, glancing over the metal needle in confusion. How the hell did they manage to stick that in him without getting electrocuted?
It was a good explanation as to why he was feeling so...drugged. Whatever was in the IV bag was being pumped into him, and it was playing a big hand in his inability to form a coherent thought about where the hell he was.
With an indignant huff, Stiles ripped the oxygen mask off of his face, wincing as the movements flared up pain in his body. His fingers went towards the IV, fully prepared to yank it out, when he found himself pausing- was yanking a needle out of his skin really a good idea?
He had no idea how long he was practically glaring at the IV, mentally debating whether or it he should pull it out, but the next thing he knew, he was being startled by a new voice. His eyes snapped towards the perpetrator, pursing his lips when found himself staring at Bruce Banner.
"You were heavily sedated when they inserted the IV, so nothing happened." Stiles stayed silent, unsure of how to reply. And even if he did have something to say, he wasn't sure he'd even be able to get it out, not with the way his throat was burning.
Dr Banner drew closer to him, causing Stiles to scramble to sit up quickly. With a muddled mind, Stiles watched intently as Banner picked up the discarded oxygen mask.
"You know, you really shouldn't have taken this off." He stated.
Stiles snorted, "Yeah?" His voice was raspy and hoarse, causing him to cough slightly. It shouldn't hurt to speak. "And who're you to tell me what to do?"
He was fully aware that potentially angering the scientist-who-could-turn-into-the-notsojolly-green-giant wasn't a very good idea, but Stiles was known to be reckless.
And stupid.
"My name is Bruc-"
"I'm aware of who you are," Stiles wheezed, using all his will power to keep from coughing. "I'm not a big fan of people telling me what to do."
In a way, Stiles was caught off guard when Bruce chuckled, setting the oxygen mask on the side table beside the hospital bed the teen was currently residing on.
"You're not HYDRA are you?" He questioned bluntly.
Stiles watched him for a moment, looking for any signs that would show the man was joking before snorting indignantly, "Are you for real?" He questioned, his throat tickling as his voice rose.
"If I was apart of HYDRA, would I taken down their helicopter?" And killed everyone in it. So much for the whole 'not killing people' gig. "Jesus Christ, I thought you were supposed to be smart!" He squawked, his pitch rising.
Dr Banner opened his mouth to reply, but Stiles- always the one to rant under stress- continued to speak. "You guys really thought I was working with a bunch of...of...terrorists, didn't you?" He heaved in a huge breath of air, "I may be a pretty shitty person, but that's too far, man. Who the hell do you think I am? I-"
Stiles cut himself off, falling into a coughing fit that did nothing to help the pain in his chest. If anything, it only made the pain worse.
Bruce made a move towards him, but quickly stopped when Stiles glared at him, still hacking into his elbow.
"Take it easy, kiddo," The scientist held his hands up in surrender. "Your chest is pretty beat up, no need to aggravate it." After what seemed like forever, Stiles was no longer coughing. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, his fists clenched tightly in attempt to stop them.
"You almost died you know."
"Yeah," Stiles laughed bitterly, still a little out of breath. "Drowning can do that to a person."
He ignored the way his heart skipped a beat when his mind automatically recalled the last time he drowned.
Banner, on the other hand, was watching the hospitalized teenager, studying him with calculated eyes. "You're not bothered?" It was a testing question, in order to give some insight on what exactly was going through this kid's head.
After not being able to interrogate him- orders from Fury in attempt to keep him from hulking out as a result from Stiles' angering attitude- he was curious to understand and analyze the supposed criminal.
Stiles gave him a sharp look, "Should I be?" His tone was icy, but with the combination of his way-too-pale skin and the number hypothermia did on him physically, it wasn't threatening.
"You've sustained a fair amount of injuries, I'm actually quite surprised you're awake." He ignored the teen's question, opting to pick up the clipboard sitting at the edge of his hospital bed, flipping through the pages. To his surprise, Stiles was watching, a somewhat curious gleam in his eyes and an expectant look on his face.
Taking it as a cue to go on, Banner went on, "Severe concussion, stitches along the forehead and cheek. Major bruising along the chest. Stitches along the abdomen. Broken ankle-" He paused, watching as Stiles eyes widened, the teen obviously surprised by the news of a broken bone. "Various cuts and bruises along the body. And on top of that, you had a pretty bad case of hypothermia as well as acute bronchitis."
"Fanfuckingtastic." Stiles sneered under his breath, using his free arm to cover his face.
How the hell was he supposed to escape when he had a cast wrapped around his leg?
It was silent for a couple minutes, and with his trembling arm covering his face, Stiles' could've sworn that Bruce had left the room. It was a good explanation to use as to why he flinched when the scientist began to speak again.
"I have a couple of questions for you," Bruce almost added the words 'if you don't mind' but thought better of it.
Stiles uncovered his face, fixing the scientist with a fierce glare. He was getting sick and tired of all the questions, not to mention that he was actually sick and tired. "Ask all you want, I'm not answering anything."
"Why are you so apprehensive? They're simple questions." It wasn't technically a lie- they were simple, but they were also intrusive.
He could've laughed at the incredulous look he received from the seventeen year old, "You're kidding right?" Stiles questioned, clearing his throat before he continued. "There's literally no reason why I should answer your dumb questions." He rolled his eyes, thoroughly done with everything at this point.
"The sooner you answer, the sooner this will all be over." He suggested, raising an eyebrow.
"That's definitely a lie."
"How can you be so sure?"
Stiles face palmed, his right hand speaking against his nose- which was actually a really bad idea because it's shot pain throughout his face, but he ignored it. Sort of. "Because everything about this," He flailed his free arm, giving emphasis on the word. "-is a lie! Are you expecting me to believe that if I answer your stupid questions, I'll be free to leave or whatever?" He sneered, his frustration expelling from him. "I'm not an idiot, I know HYDRA infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D, who says it's not gonna happen again? And I sure as hell know I don't want to be in the middle of it!"
Bruce watched as the kid spoke, listening to his excessive - yet logical- rambling. He did have a point, and his worries were supported. But S.H.I.E.L.D was a new agency now, every single one of their staff members were thoroughly looked into, there was no way HYDRA was going to make a reappearance.
"You do have a reason to be nervous, but I can assure you that S.H.I.E.L.D is protected." He tried to reason.
Key word; tried.
"Yeah, I've heard that one before." Stiles rolled his eyes. "I'm really not in the mood to talk anymore, so if you could leave, that'd be fantastic." He did his best to turn on his side- away from Bruce- biting his tongue to hold back a hiss of pain as his movements jostled every injury his body held.
He stared at the wall across from him, waiting for the scientist to leave so he could figure out a new game plan so he could escape from S.H.I.E.L.D once again.
Bruce sighed, contemplating whether or not he should push for answers, but he knew all too well how it felt when he was forced to do something. He casted one last glance at the teenager before reluctantly leaving the room.
The team needed to come up with a game plan fast, or they were never going to get answers.
•
"But it's not just a feeling, though. It's - it's like it's a panic attack. You know, like I can't even breathe."
•
For what seemed like the millionth time, the Avengers were gathered around a large table, impatiently waiting for someone to come up with a big idea to get answers out of an incredibly stubborn teenager who had a knack for pushing their buttons.
He was incredibly infuriating to even some of the most patient of people.
"I've never met someone- other than Tony- who could sidestep so many questions." Rhodey said, eyeing his best friend. He hasn't exactly spoken to Stiles, but he did watch the interrogations.
"Well, we know for a fact that he has answers," Natasha said, sitting back in her chair with her feet up on the table. "I'm sure there are way we can get the information out o-"
"We're not gonna torture answers out of him," Steve stated. "He's just a kid."
"Yeah," Clint snorted. "A kid who's a murderer."
"We don't know if he actually is a murderer-" Bruce said defensively, still not entirely sure if anything S.H.I.E.L.D dug up on the teen was one hundred percent true.
"Okay, fine." Tony interrupted, "Let's say, in some crazy turn of events, that this kid didn't kill anyone. Maybe he was framed, I don't know, but he still knows something about them. If he didn't, he would answer the questions."
It was something to think about. Stiles did have a point when he brought up how people could recreate facial features in order to frame someone, but Stiles was so incredibly defensive and very allusive when questioned- and don't even get them started on what happened during Natasha's turn at the interrogation.
"You know what I don't understand," Sam spoke up. "Is the body they found in Beacon Hills." He looked down at the folder in front him, his eyes trained on the description and autopsy. "From blood type to dental records, it was identified as Stiles Stilinski."
"S.H.I.E.L.D has no problem with faking someone's death and planting bodies." Clint shrugged.
"Yeah, but no one at S.H.I.E.L.D is a teenager." Bruce stated.
"So, are you saying this kid is some kind of criminal genius?" Rhodey raised an eyebrow.
They sat in silence- which was odd- all pondering the loopholes and open points this case had. Their earlier conclusions were slowly melting away as they attempted to put the pieces together.
"Perhaps I should attempt to coax answers out of him." Thor suggested.
All heads turned towards him, the idea of Thor talking to Stiles running through their minds until they were all thinking the same thing.
Maybe Thor could scare the answers out of him.
•
"But what if it just gets worse? What if it's agony now...and hell later on?"
•
Stiles has never been a patient kid.
Not when he got diagnosed with ADHD or when his dad told him his mom was sick.
Not when he was a bench warmer for the lacrosse team or when he took the PSATs his freshmen year just to be near Lydia Martin.
And there was no way in hell he was going to be patient when he was sitting in a hospital bed against his will.
Broken ankle be damned, he was finding a way out of this place.
There were no windows in the hospital room he was confined to, and he was ninety-five percent sure that there were guards outside the door, so that took away the options of climbing out the window or making a run for it.
He thought about climbing through the air vents, but in every scenario he thought of, the cast on his ankle got away.
Freaking HYDRA and sunken helicopters.
After Bruce left, Stiles' was visited two other times by a nurse. He never caught her name, but all she did was check his vitals and bring him water and food.
The tray from the cafeteria was left untouched, because after coming into contact with the food he received in the interrogation room, there was no way in hell he was going to eat this food.
He'd rather starve.
Stiles closed his eyes, an annoyed sigh leaving his mouth. He needed to get out here, preferably before he died of boredom.
His moment of sorta-peace was quickly interrupted when the nurse made a reappearance. She walked into the room, causing Stiles' eyes to snap open. He sat up quickly, watching as she gave a disapproving look towards the uneaten food, but instead of grabbing it and leaving- like he assumed she would do- she crossed over towards him.
The nurse opened the basket on the heart monitor, pulling out different medical instruments and baggies. He watched in confusion only to flinch when she made a move towards him.
"How are you feeling?" She asked, a thick southern accent on her tongue.
Awful. "Fine." He said, his voice still hoarse. Unfortunately, his throat still hurt like a mother, but there was no way he was going to tell anyone that.
She offered him a smile as she opened the baggies, revealing IV needles. "I need to change out your IV. We're gonna put you on a different pain killer, one that's less strong." She explained. "It'll get rid of some grogginess I'm sure you've been feeling."
"But what about the whole...?" He trailed off slowly, hoping she would pick up what he was saying.
"Mr Stark created these needles so they won't be effected by your abilities." She explained, pulling on plastic gloves.
He nodded slowly, though he could feel his heart race pick up. It was one thing when they put the needle in his arm when he was unconscious, but it was another thing to have her put one in while he was awake.
Stiles fought back a flinch as the nurse gently pulled the IV out of his wrist, discarding in another baggies before hooking up a needle to a different drip.
He held his breath as she cleaned the skin where the needle would go, pulling another IV needle out of one of the baggies.
As if it were in slow motion, the nurse held the needle above his wrist, preparing to insert it. "This'll only hurt a little bit, try not to move." She instructed.
Stiles' eyes widened as he jolted back, his arm moving with him. "Wh-What?" He gasped.
This wasn't the first time he's heard someone say that.
"Mister Stilinski," She said, her voice taking on a scolding tone as he reached for his arm again. "If you move, it'll hurt more." She stated.
He shook his head, clutching his left arm to his chest. "D-Don't touch me." He stammered.
"This'll only hurt a little bit," Oliver giggled menacingly. "Try not to move."
He held the trephination drill to the side of Stiles' head, his finger on the trigger as Stiles pulled against his restraints.
"Mister Stilinski, I need to insert the IV." The nurse said calmly, but Stiles was barely paying attention. It wasn't until she reached for him again that he shrunk back even more, scrambling backwards to get away from her.
"St-stay away from me!" He shouted at the nurse.
Except, in his mind, he wasn't exactly shouting at the nurse, he was screaming at Oliver.
"Get away from me!" He screamed desperately, craning his head away from the maniac's drill.
His body was arched away from him, his whole body shaking with uncontrollable tremors. He didn't want to die this way.
The nurse watched him with worried eyes, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to let anyone do that to him again.
Oliver grabbed him by the mouth, pushing his head straight against the back of the chair. A sickening grin crossed across his face as the nogitsune blossomed within him.
"This is going to be so much fun." He giggled again, holding the drill against the side of Stiles head. He squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip, but morning could hold back to pain filled scream that left his mouth as Oliver pushed the drill in-
"Get away from me!" He screamed, twisting so far backwards the he somersaulted off of the hospital bed. A cry of pain left his mouth as he landed on the ground, but quickly picked himself up as the nurse frantically came towards him.
He shook his head as his breaths started to became quicker and more labored. The heart monitor was going crazy, making Stiles' head pound even more. He shakily yanked the finger clip on his hand and the strap wrapped around his arm off.
A loud scream left his mouth as the nurse grabbed his arm, his whole body ramming into the wall beside his bed as he frantically tried to shake her hands off of him.
"D-don't to-ouch me!" His voice was barely above a whisper, the screaming taking a toll on his already hurting throat.
Stiles shoved the nurse away from him as he stumbled into the bathroom connected to the room, slamming and locking the door behind him.
After that, however, he found that he couldn't bear to take another step. Every movement he put his ankle through was causing agonizing pain throughout his whole body, and that did nothing for his oncoming panic attack.
It was a good thing the lights in the bathroom were automatic, because if not, he would've been panicking in the dark.
"This is j-just a dream. Just a dr-dream." He mumbled to himself as he slid down the wall vertical to the door, practically wheezing as he gasped for breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring his instincts that told him to count his fingers because every time he opened his eyes, all he could see was Oliver's psychopathic smile and Malia's lifeless body.
His hands were clamped over his ears, trying to block out the sound of the drill or his own manic screams that were replaying in his.
His panic was growing, his chest tightening with each labored breath until he found that he could no longer bring in any air.
This is just a dream.
He kept trying to convince himself, but with every thought came the sound of Oliver's awful laugh.
This isn't real.
This is probably the worst panic attack he's ever had, and that's saying a lot.
Wake up, Stiles.
He shook his head, squeezing his eyes tighter and pushing harder against his ears. He could faintly recognize movement around him but he only shrunk into himself more.
Wake. Up. Stiles.
He flinched violently as someone grabbed at his arms, the hands moving away just as quickly as they came.
Wake up!