Chapter Text
The Sheriff was working late when the call came in. The call would have to him anyway if it had been about another person, he was the sheriff after all and missing persons cases were a part of his scope of work. This one came in through his cellphone.
He rubbed the fatigue out of his eyes and read the caller ID that identified Melissa as the caller. She called every few days to check up on him.
“Hello?”
She jumped straight into conversation mode, “Noah, you need to come down to the hospital as soon as possible.”
He shifted in his seat, “What’s going on?”
“I don’t want to alarm you but, Stiles is in the ER right now.” She managed to keep her voice calm, hoping the Sheriff would mirror her tone and feigned emotional state.
He was out of the office in record time, “I’ll be right there!”
*
A year.
A full year since Stiles vanished from the lacrosse field. When asked, a lot of people would say there were a lot of weird things about that night. For starters, Stiles had scored not one but three goals, securing a victory for his team but the team players had all been acting strangely and Jackson full-on died on the field. Died and came back to life the very next day.
No one had an answer when the Sheriff asked where the hell his son was
Most people’s first thought was that the younger Stilinski was just off somewhere either freaked out by all the attention or just pulling a really elaborate prank that no one would find amusing.
It wasn’t until the next day that fear began to rise. He was really nowhere to be found.
Scott, Isaac and Derek had searched every inch of Beacon Hills and came up with nothing. Search parties volunteered to find the Sheriff’s son and the hospital was on alert in case he made it there as a John Doe.
Despite even Deaton’s best efforts to locate him, the boy was simply gone.
He parked the car and sprinted inside. Melissa was waiting for him by the entrance, she held up her hands in a placating gesture before he even stopped.
“Where is he? Is he okay? Where did he come from?”
Melissa decided to walk and talk, hoping to work off some of the stress and anxiety coming off the Sheriff in waves, “He was brought in by campers. Apparently he just wandered into their campsite.”
“Is he okay? Did he say where he’s been this whole time?” Noah wasn’t angry with his son, he was just relieved to have him back safe and alive.
Melissa stopped outside a private room and turned to face the Sheriff, “That’s the thing, Noah.” She shook her head and took a deep breath, “He hasn’t spoken a word. He looks like he’s been through... things and he’s barely let us examine him.”
The sheriff’s heart stopped as this information was processed, “I don’t think I follow. My son is here. He is alive but he’s hurt.”
Melissa nodded and touched his arm, “That’s correct. You can go in and see him while I find the doctor. He wants to speak with you.” Before he could reach for the door handle, Melissa spoke again, “Just... proceed with caution.”
Stilinski’s heart jumped to his throat as he turned the handle and stepped inside the room.
The first thing he noticed was the darkness; the lights were off and the window shades were closed. The second thing he noticed was the empty bed. That one made him scowl, surely Melissa wouldn’t call him for a false alarm or a hoax. He scanned the room and found him under a table.
His son was wedged into the corner, hugging his knees to his chest. The clothes he wore were threadbare, tattered and filthy. His face was buried in the cradle of his arms and his hair – which had grown quite a bit in the time he was gone – was dirty and covered in leaves and mud. His feet were bare and had cuts and bruises, probably from running barefoot in the woods. He looked so thin and frail a good gust of wind would knock him over. The worst was his hands, the nails were chipped, some were fully missing as if someone had pulled them off. The wrists had what were definite signs of prolonged restraining, from a pair of handcuffs or shackles. The skin was raw and chafed, probably from repeated struggles against the restraints.
“Stiles?” He whispered.
The sound made the boy flinch and hug his knees tighter.
“Hey buddy, it’s your dad. I’ve been worried sick about you.” He shook his head and muttered, “What the hell happened to you?”
Without warning, his dark head lifted and met his father’s eyes. His skin was sickly pale, on the verge of translucent. Eyes that were once described as honey gold had lost their lustre and had dark circles around them. Cuts and bruises marred the pallid face. As suddenly as he lifted his head, he retreated back into the cover of his arms. There was no recognition in the youth’s eyes, no flicker that he knew who knelt in front of him.
Anger heated the Sheriff’s chest and had him curling his hands into fists. Stiles hadn’t just vanished that day, someone had taken him and done God knows what to him. He would find out who was responsible and badge or no badge, he would make them pay dearly.
The door opened, making Stiles flinch and whimper. Noah wished he could reach out and comfort him but the soldier part of him told him that it would be counterproductive and cause more harm than good.
Melissa stood by the door with a man in purple scrubs. Noah gave his son one more worry-addled gaze and rose to speak to the doctor.
“Sheriff, good evening, I’m Dr. Knox.” The doctor held out a hand.
Noah accepted the handshake, “Can you tell me what is wrong with my son?”
The doctor glanced at the boy in the corner, “We haven’t been able to examine him but based on—”
“What? Why not?”
Knox paused and let the sheriff’s anger have its space in the sun, “As you may have seen, your son has the worst case of Conditioned Emotional Response, he is extremely sensory defensive. When the campers brought him in, he was still running on adrenaline. The hyper vigilance and sensory defensiveness began soon after he arrived in the ER. To calm him down, we kept him isolated and as quiet and dark as possible.”
The sheriff folded his arms, “He’s been missing for a year. His wrists are bruised as if he was bound. Can you tell what happened to him?”
The doctor grimaced, “Not without a proper exam.” He glanced at the boy again, “We could sedate him but I am wary of doing so against his will.”
Stilinski sighed, “Just… do whatever it is you need to do to get him well. Please.”
The doctor reluctantly nodded and took the file from Melissa’s hands, scribbling something on it, “I’ll get on it. I just need Dr Crawley’s go-ahead.” He nodded again and walked off.
“In the meantime, you should get deputies to talk to the campers who brought Stiles in.” Melissa suggested and started herding him down the hall. He nodded and absently pulled out his phone to do just that.
“Mum!” Scott’s voice cam and Melissa turned to find him, Lydia and Isaac.
“Sweetie, it’s almost ten, what are you doing here?”
Scott glances at Lydia, “Lydia had a… feeling.”
Melissa looked at Lydia, who looked like she had been petrified, “Oh that kind of feeling.”
“We were studying when she got this look on her face,” Isaac said, his eyes still on Lydia, “the next thing we knew, she was up and walking, as if she was sleepwalking.”
“You followed her?” Melissa frowned, she didn’t know much about Lydia’s abilities but she knew they involved people dying.
“Mum, we already lost one friend. I’d rather not lose Lydia because she accidentally walked into traffic.” Scott’s voice wobbled as he spoke. It was bad enough that he was distracted when his best friend went missing, but the fact that despite all these abilities, he couldn’t find a trace of him just made things worse.
“Uh, honey about that…”
“NO!!” Lydia shrieked and darted down the hall as if she was on fire. She stopped outside Stiles’ hospital room and pushed it open. A second. That’s how long she hesitated before rushing inside.
Scott, Isaac and Melissa chased after her. To their shock, they found her on the floor in front of Stiles, holding on to his wrists, which seemed to be bleeding profusely thanks to the three-inch long slashes on his wrists. The amount of blood on the floor around them said it hadn’t been long since it happened.
There were tears on Lydia’s eyes as she turned to address Melissa, “A little help would be nice.”
Melissa reached for a button bear the door and yelled, “Code red! I need 10mg of Diazepam!” then she moved to the cabinet and came back with handfuls of gauze. She knelt next to Lydia, “Okay Lydia, we’re going to have to move quickly or he could bleed out when we trade hands.”
“What do you need me to do?” she asked and looked at Stiles. His head was down and he looked like he was sleeping.
Without words, Melissa grabbed Stiles’ wrists from Lydia’s and squeezed. Another nurse came in with a loaded syringe. That seemed to set Stiles off. He tugged his hands against Melissa’s grip and started to shriek when he failed.
“Reece!” Melissa called and the nurse held Stiles around his shoulders, trying to get him to stop thrashing. The needle came down on his shoulder. He struggled harder, yelled louder before the fight gradually left him and he went slack in the nurses’ hold. “Call Dr Knox, I’ll keep pressure.”
“I’ll help you get him on the bed.” Reece said and pointed at the bed with her head.
Scott moved from his paralysis, “I’ll help.” He stepped into the room and lifted Stiles from the floor and onto the bed. Reece discarded the syringe and needle and hurried out of the room.
“Mum—” Scott called to ask a question but his mum cut him off.
“Sweetie, help Lydia up and get her cleaned up, we’ll talk later.” The look on her eyes discouraged him from pushing for further speaking.
Lydia was shaking like a leaf as they walked to the nearest bathroom. A woman in a green coat gave all three of them an odd look as they walked into the ladies’ room. Lydia’s hands were covered in blood and her face was blank. Scott and Isaac led her to the sink and opened the tap and watched the water turn red and swirl into the drain.
“He’s so scared,” Lydia’s voice was hoarse. “So scared.”
“Where has he been?” Isaac asked and guided her hand under the soap dispenser.
Scott shook his head, “I have no idea.”
“He looks like he’s been through something really rough, something he won’t want to tell us about.” Isaac said.
“Do you think his dad knows?” she asked and scrubbed her hands.
Scott lifted a shoulder in a shrug, “My mum will have called him the second she recognised Stiles.”
*
By the time they got back to Stiles’ room, his dad was back. The sheriff was pacing up and down the hall. Scott took pause as he saw him, they still talked sometimes and Scott checked up on him but there had been a distance created by Stiles’ disappearance.
The sheriff stopped pacing when he saw the trio approaching.
“Scott, what...”
Scott stopped as he reached him and said, “Lydia.” He said by way of explanation.
The sheriff nodded in comprehension, he had been introduced to this crazy supernatural world after Stiles vanished. Scott had realised that the sheriff would lose his mind if he didn’t understand what exactly the teenagers in town were up against. The sheriff knew little and understood even less about Lydia’s abilities but she had helped the sheriff’s department locate nearly a dozen dead bodies in a manner that was well within the realm of inexplicable.
“Is he okay?” Isaac asked.
Noah threw a hand and dropped it with a sigh, “He’s sedated and they’re working on him.”
“Do you know where he’s been?” Scott asked.
Noah shook his head, “I was hoping you guys would have a clue.” They all shook their heads, “He hasn’t said a word of what happened or where he’s been. There are... signs of captivity but... the doctor is with him now.”
As if she knew what he was going to suggest, Lydia spoke, “I’d like to stay.”
“No, you kids go home. You have school tomorrow and there’s not much we can do for him but wait.”
“I’d like to stay.” Lydia repeated and to prove her point, walked to a chair and gingerly sat down.
Stilinski turned his gaze to Scott the werewolf only have a tight smile, “I’d go with it if I were you. She’s here because she felt it when he was trying to hurt himself.”
Stilinski turned to face Lydia, “So if she wants to stay...”
“It could be because she feels Stiles might try to hurt himself again.” Isaac finished for him.
“And she’s very seldom wrong.” Scott muttered.
*
An hour passed, no news came. Stilinski tired of pacing and sat down next to Lydia. His deputies had taken the statements from the campers who had found his son and were going to go searching for a trail the next day.
He sighed and rubbed his temples. A slow headache was gnawing at him, as were the torturous assumptions his mind was making about what had happened to his son.
“Every time,” Lydia spoke all of a sudden, her voice low and shaky, the sheriff turned to her, “Every time I got this... feeling. The dreadful feeling of death... every time I found a dead body... I prayed it wasn’t him.” Her hands shook and she grasped them. “And now he’s back and he looks...” she shook her head and blinked tears away... “it’s like he’s not really there.”
“Your abilities, can they shed some light on what happened to him?”
She gave it a thought, “It’s possible. Scott might be able to get more.”
Lydia didn’t add that every night since the night Stiles vanished, she had been plagued by nightmares. They were not often vivid and she could never derive much from them