Work Text:
John ran a hand through his hair, one hand gripping is dollar coffee from the cafeteria and the other shoved deep into his coat pocket. It's late autumn, the trees outside rustling in the wind with colored leaves falling like snow. Moving his gaze from the window to in front of him he jerked out of the way from an incoming nurse who seemed to be scrambling to get from point A to point B. Taking a tentative sip of his coffee and ignoring the stale chemical air around him he kept following the worn path to room 329-C.
Passing the nurses station Melissa glanced up from the filing cabinet and sent him a soft smile and wave before returning to the manila folders. John nodded back before rounding the corner where the telltale fluorescent light flickered more often than not. His work boots sounded rough on the linoleum floors and his back was a bit too stiff for his liking. Shoving the thoughts away he took his hand from his pocket and grasped the chilled steel handle, turning it to open the door.
The familiar smell of Claudia's orange blossom and jasmine shampoo hit his nose along with her favorite candles she liked to burn to void out the hospital's smell. Stiles' stuffed llama he'd begged for from the zoo a few years back was thrown on the chair he usually sat in. However when the two weren't in sight his worry went from about forty eight percent to two hundred. Aggressively setting the coffee down he closed the door doing a full three sixty before taking a look in the bathroom knowing Claudia seemed to recently have the need to wash her hands every few hours.
"Shit," John growled rushing out of the room, managing to startle an elderly patient. Bolting down the hall he made it back to the nurse's station, Melissa and the other nurse named Carly snapped their heads around to look at him, both dropping their work. "Claudia...Stiles, they aren't in the room," he informed voice wavering.
This isn't the first time Claudia wandered off, but this is the first time Stiles followed.
"Carly page security, I'm going to check the wing...John go and look for them elsewhere," Melissa instructed diving into action, Carly doing as told.
Swallowing thickly he took off towards the elevators, taking a peek down every hall in search for shoulder length brown hair and/or a red hoodie. Going up to the next floor he barely waited for the doors to slide open before looking around. By the time he went all around the fourth floor he was frantic, worry turning into panic too quickly. The next step was asking anyone if they'd seen any signs of his family. When he reached the elevator again ready to search another floor a woman with an infant in her arms stopped him from going in. Her eyes were filled with worry, blonde hair disheveled, shoulders tense.
"Your son, is he wearing a red hoodie? Looks about eleven?" She asked.
John looked at her, confirming as this feeling hope boil in his chest.
"He was in the elevator with me five minutes ago with a woman in a hospital gown, the woman seemed frightened. I pressed the fourth floor button while their button was headed to the roof access," the woman said rocking the baby back and forth. Thanking her repeatedly as the door to the elevators shut, he made his way to the roof hoping for the best but expecting the worst. Running out of the elevator he scaled the metal steps to the roof door two at a time before finally shoving the door open and entering the chilled night.
There was his son, his Stiles standing in the middle of the roof unaware of his presence. The red hoodie was turned away from him, the ten year old boy fixated on his mother currently daunting a little too close to the edge for comfort. Claudia was shaking, hospital gown moving to the ebb and flow of the wind, hair being blown all around.
"Mom? Mom what are you doing?" Stiles asked, voice raised louder than usual and quivering.
John couldn't take it anymore, "Claudia!" He called rushing to where she was standing bypassing his son who looked at him with a look to old for his age. He rushed forward slowing down knowing to be extra cautious when she's startled like this. These days aggression in any form doesn't rub her the right way. Coming to a stop just by the ladder she must've climbed he hesitantly grabs the frigid metal and climbs up a step, "What are you doing up there?"
His wife turned around, skin paler than usual and hair messy. Her gown did no justice to her frame and the medical bracelet she had on was nearly slipping off her wrist. Her amber colored eyes were wide, nervous, terrified. "I couldn't stand to be in that room anymore." Claudia gasped moving to the left to get down from the elevated roofing before continuing. "Not with him looking at me like that."
John moved to follow her, his heart breaking from his wife's words which if not for the dementia would never come out of her mouth. Glancing back for the brief second he caught the devastated look on their child's face.
"Claudia..." he tried not knowing the right thing to say but in the end she cut him off.
"He's trying to hurt me," she warned flailing a bit, "I don't care if you believe me but he is!...He's trying to kill me!"
Stiles' sharp intake of breath was something he barely heard over the harsh panting of his wife who was wigging out more and more with each passing moment. Reaching his hand out slowly John brushed his against her's, attempting to grab it softly. The brush of their fingers made his chest tighten, the familiar soft touch replaced by rough over washed dryness. He didn't let it get to him as they made eye contact. "That's not true. Come on down," John said watching her move slowly towards him until she was to the level where he could lift her back to the ground softly. Once she was on her feet he pulled her into an embrace, letting his face bury itself into her locks of hair for a moment before telling her again.
"You have to remind yourself that it's a disease." John soothed.
Claudia nodded against his chest, "Mm-hmm."
Pulling her back by the shoulders he kept eye contact again, hands running up and down her gown clad arms, "Remember what the dementia does? It gives you delusions, it makes you think people are out to get you-"
"You don't see the way he looks at me!" Claudia hissed shaking her head, the fear crawling back into her mind again.
John's brow furrowed feeling frustration ping inside of him, "Claudia he's ten years old!"
"He's. Trying. To. Kill. Me." Claudia reiterated voice wavering with anger.
What happened next happened in slow motion, his wife yelling at their son to stop looking at her the way he was, shoving his arm away from her. John felt his eyes turn to saucers as Claudia tore away from his grip darting to the ten year old. Stiles was frozen jaw slack seeing his mother come towards him like that, himself a little disbelieving of it. She might be sick but she still remembered Stiles and him pretty well. Suddenly his heart sped up, the slow motion feeling dissipating as his son screamed upon a loud slap from his mother. John kicked into gear and rushed up behind his wife pulling her away from the kid sobbing on the ground with a welt on his cheek. She was hysterical while thrashing and babbling trying to get away.
The roof door slammed open security, doctors, and nurses came out including Melissa who went straight for Stiles thankfully. Security ripped him away from Claudia twisting her arms behind her back while nurses and doctors held her injecting her with what was a sedative. Her fight stopping when she went limp, collapsing into dead weight. John wiped his eyes before registering Melissa trying to calm Stiles. Before he even realized it he was kneeling before the two scooping his son into his arms. Stiles' sobs shook his whole body, snot covered John's jacket, and Melissa was teary eyed as well.
"'M sorry!," Stiles nearly screamed, kicking his legs, "I'm-m...sorry!"
John held his son closer chanting over and over that it'd be okay, that is wasn't his fault, that everything would be okay.
By the time Claudia was back in her bed with ankle and wrist restraints on Stiles had passed out from his panic attack. which was a new thing for the young boy. John though he wanted to stay was thrown out of the hospital by Melissa told to get Stiles home and kept calm. In the car he took a left on Main Street taking a peek in the rear view mirror to see the discolored hand print across Stiles' right cheek. A frown crossed his lips his line stained face filled with sorrow.
The Claudia they knew was gone. His son was living proof.