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There are five minutes of silence after that where Jackson can practically hear Stiles thinking.
“What I said before…” Stiles hesitates.
“What part exactly? You accused me of a lot things…” There’s sarcasm in Jackson’s voice but not real malice, and that’s something that Stiles can notice easily by now.
Stiles snorts weakly. “Not that part—The dying a virgin part…”
“Okay. What about that?” Jackson furrows his brow.
“That’s not what really sucks about dying here.”
Jackson looks at Stiles’s profile wondering what he means but he just waits for him to continue.
“I mean, not only that. Of course, I wish I knew what that’s like. But mostly, it sucks that I’ve never… you know…”
“You’ve never what?” Jackson asks when Stiles seems to have problems to continue.
“Fallen in love… I’ve never loved somebody who loved me back. Now I’ll never know if that’s a possibility.” Moisture pricks at the corners of his eyes before he can try to stop it. “If there was somebody out there, somewhere who thought I’m somewhat attractive and interesting…” There’s a hitch in his breath. “I’ll never graduate and go to college. Hell, I’ll never have kids…” Tears well up and spill over as he continues “and my dad won’t be a grandpa like he wanted. I’ll never travel to Europe…” His breath hitches again. “Shit, I won’t even get to see ‘The Winter Soldier’...”
Jackson is speechless for a moment. Doubts invade his mind for a moment and he can’t help but wonder the same. Because yes, he’s not a virgin but he also wants those things. He doesn’t care about ‘The Winter Soldier’ but he wants to really fall in love, go to college and make a lot of money. He wants to succeed in every way he can, and he may not have thought about kids but in the back of his mind, he sort of assumed he would be a father someday. And his parents definitely hope to be grandparents too, he knows that. Someday in the future.
And nobody is taking that future away from him. No fucking way… so Stiles better stop with that bullshit for good because those psychos are not going to ruin his plan. Their plans.
“Listen to me—Are you listening?”
Stiles sobs but doesn’t reply.
“Stiles! I said listen to me!” Jackson insists.
“What?” Stiles manages to whisper, tears still falling down his cheeks.
“We-are-getting-out-of-here,” Jackson stresses every word. “So, you’re gonna do all that shit, okay? I don’t know if you’ll find the love of your life or what, but if Scott got Allison to fall in love with him, then I bet there’s somebody out there for you too... and sure as hell, we’re graduating, because there’s no way I’m not leaving this town to study in the best college I can find. So, thinking about dying is not allowed! Not another word about ‘I wanted to do this’ or ‘I wanted to do that’… That’s over! Only positive thoughts from now on, do you hear me?” Jackson says as firmly as he can manage.
“Uh-huh. You know, if you actually make it out of here and you don’t get into college, I think you have a real future as a motivational speaker, okay?”
Jackson rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything.
“Fucking shit!” Stiles complains, closing his eyes, obviously in pain.
“What’s wrong?” Jackson asks even if he’s pretty sure that he knows the answer. He’s got his own wounds and pain to deal with, but complaining about it would be utterly useless.
“I don’t know. My chest…” There’s a hitch in Stiles’s breath, “it hurts like a motherfucker.”
“Yeah, the cuts are most probably infected.” Not surprising having in mind all the days they’ve been there and the terrible conditions of the dark and dusty basement. “And they could also have torn a muscle and it could be inflamed… but the good news is that muscles regenerate, you know?”
“Thank you, Dr. Whittemore… I feel so much better now that I know that they regenerate.”
“All I’m saying is that you’re not-dying… and I repeat, not-dying from that.”
“True, if they shoot at us or stab us… or any other equally effective method they can think of to get rid of us before they make us disappear, I won’t have to worry about the infections and the possible inflammation,” Stiles's tone drips with sarcasm.
“You’re frustrating… and you’ve seen too many horror movies… but no, I think if they wanted us dead, we’d already be dead.” Jackson sighs. “I know it probably doesn’t give you much comfort but that’s just what I think.”
“Shit, I’m so hungry I could eat at least twenty cheeseburgers one after the other and then, like a hundred curly fries. And after that, I’d have a chocolate milkshake… and a strawberry milkshake and—”
“And then you’d explode and that’s how you escaped from these bastards only to kill yourself of indigestion,” Jackson smirks.
“Please stop talking about food… I’ve been trying not to think about it,” Jackson adds.
“Sorry, but I’m too hungry not to think about it.”
“I know,” Jackson almost nods before he remembers once more that it hurts to move his neck in this position. “It’s okay.”
There’s a silence after that and Jackson wonders if Stiles is thinking about food, about getting killed or about dying too soon again. He’s thinking about the last conversation he had with his parents before going to school. It was nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing he hadn’t said many times before.
He thinks about how he never had the guts to tell them that he’s a werewolf now. If he really wanted to fix some of the things he did wrong before, he should have started by being honest with the two people who care about him the most but he never was. They should have found out from him and maybe he’s too late now. He’s sure that they must be looking for him and if they’ve talked to Derek, they must know and they are most probably furious and disappointed.
Hell, he feels ashamed and angry with himself. His parents have always trusted him and he’s lied to them again. He deserves it if they are angry with him—if they don’t forgive him. The uncertainty about their reaction and what’s going on with the pack consumes him every time he allows his mind to go there.
That’s why he doesn’t want to think about it. He wants it to stop.
Maybe that’s the reason why talking to Stiles helps so much… that is, when he’s not talking about the different ways they could be executed or about his total lack of optimism about their chances of survival.
“You know, not that this helps right now,” Stiles says out of nowhere. “But for the record… I do forgive you.”
“You do?” Jackson raises his eyebrows.
“Yes. Whatever happens… That’s in the past. My father was reinstated and I know you weren’t lying before.” He knows Jackson genuinely regrets it and that's what really matters to him. “I’m an advocate for new beginnings… so, if we get out of here, I’m not gonna be the one to deny you yours.”
“Thanks. The sheriff will be proud,” Jackson says with honesty.
Stiles doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t need to.
He knows Jackson is right.
His dad would most likely be proud.