What's your Emergency 1/1
Title: What's your Emergency
Author: Lizard971
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Prompt: hc_bingo "bullet wound"/"caught in a robbery"
Medium: Fanfic
Wordcount: 4345
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Summary: It was the call the Sheriff never wanted to get.
Characters: Sheriff Stilinski, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski
Disclaimer: Playing in a sandbox that is not mine. (Although I'll keep convincing myself that Stiles totally is mine)
AN: All thanks go to Mish who took the time to beta this although I sent it to her pretty much at the last moment. All remaining mistakes and non-sense is all mine and I deserve them for procrastinating so much all the time.
- What's your Emergency -
It all started with a call.
A 911 call.
A call Sheriff Stilinski answered personally. A call he would remember for years to come.
It could have been one of those calls, like the hundreds he got every year. It could have been Ms Cunningham calling because Fonzie—her cat—had disappeared. Again. Abducted by some dangerous individual, possibly more than one, who would then decide to return it by leaving it high up in a nearby tree. Or it could have been Mr Carter reporting the neighbours' kids once again playing in his garden, which really, was hardly trespassing considering there was no fence. Since it was Friday, it actually should have been Ms Paddington reporting inappropriate behaviour in the park; teenagers just didn't have the same restrain nowadays.
Because really, up until now, Beacon Hills had been a small town with little to no major trouble. That is, if you left out everything regarding the Hale family; ignore the fire that killed most of them, the body of Laura found cut in half and how the brother, Derek Hale, seemed to be involved every time something suspicious was happening now.
Come to think of it, Beacon Hills hadn't been that trouble free for close to a year. Neither had his son. And now, it seemed like the youngest Stilinski had managed to get himself in trouble way over his head. Stiles would be grounded for the rest of his life. That was if there still was still a Stiles to ground.
There had been so much blood.
The call had come through two hours ago, and the Sheriff was still trying to understand what had happened and how he found himself waiting, powerless, to find out if he still had a family. He couldn't even begin to imagine life without his son. Granted, he hadn't been able to imagine life without his wife back then either, but Stiles had been around to give him reasons to hang on, get up every day and move on. He never would have made it without him. Stiles had been both his anchor and his motivation; he had kept him grounded while making sure he didn't get stuck in his dark place. The family roles had been reversed for a while, with Stiles taking care of his father when really it should have been the other way around. The Sheriff had forced his son to grow up way too fast when he hadn't been able to handle his wife's death properly. If he was being honest, his son was pretty much still the one running the house. Not for long any more though. Things would change from now on. When Stiles came home, he would be taken care of. It was about time the Sheriff acted like a father again, getting more involved in his son's life.
The Sheriff was brought out of his musing by a screaming teenager running loudly towards the surgery waiting room. So much for being quiet in a hospital. It took just that long for him to recognize that disrespectful kid as being Scott and the screaming as being his name and Stiles' and demands to know what was going on, all jumbled into something barely understandable. Their eyes met and suddenly Scott was still and silent. Strangely, the Sheriff liked loud Scott better; maybe because that's how teenagers were supposed to be, loud and moving and obnoxious. Not silent and unmoving. Never silent and unmoving. Not Scott and not Stiles. Especially not Stiles. Not like Stiles had been when they reached him. Especially not like that. Not silent, motionless and bleeding.
Scott's squeezing hand on his shoulder stopped the downward spiralling. It made him wonder if that was how it happened for Stiles. Dark thoughts spiralling down until there was no way to stop them from becoming a full blown panic attack? Another thing he was probably to blame for. He looked up at Scott's worried, expecting eyes, not exactly sure what to say. Again, it was the teen who helped him out. He really had to stop having kids step in for him.
“What happened?” It was a simple question. It was an easy question. Except, for the fact that is was exactly what the Sheriff had been wondering for the past two hours already. He found his head shaking slowly from side to side. Truth was, he had no fucking idea what happened. All he had were facts. Brutal facts that made no sense when put together. So he went with what he had. A fact.
“Stiles' been shot.” That was a fact. The main fact. The only fact that really mattered at the moment. The one that had him twisting his mind—and body—in this hospital chair for over two hours now.
“Stiles' been shot,” he repeated softly, like saying it out loud just made him realize, like it had just become real. “Stiles' been shot. My son's been shot...” Yes, his son had been shot, and the Sheriff had been the one to find him bleeding, barely conscious.
“How? What happened?” Again with that question. Didn't Scott understand that he didn't have the answer to that specific question.
“ I don't know! I just... Don't. Know.” There. It was out. He was the Sheriff. He was there to serve and protect and know things, and he had done none of it when it mattered most to him. He hadn't been able to protect his own son and he couldn't figure out how it had come to that.
“Hey. Hey, it's okay. It's okay. He's gonna be okay. He's Stiles, right?” Ha. The Sheriff let out a small laugh at that. Like Stiles being Stiles was enough to make everything alright. But maybe it was just as simple as that. What or who had ever been able to stop Stiles from doing something? Nothing. And no one, besides his mother. Not even him. No. Like Stiles was that unstoppable force, the energizer bunny that just kept going no matter what. It gave him hope. It gave him a light at the end of the tunnel to focus on. Maybe it really was just as simple as trusting his son again. He regretted telling Stiles he didn't trust him anymore, but it had been legitimate at the time. Stiles had been volatile and always finding himself in the middle of the latest police case. Come to think of it, he should have grounded him a few months ago when things started getting weird; not that it would have worked. It had also been unfair. No matter what, Stiles was his kid and really, he'd never let his father down, had always been there when needed. It was not that he ever stopped trusting him, more like he temporarily forgot who his son was. Now was definitely the right time to remember and have faith in him again.
“Yes. Yes, he will.” The Sheriff's words were spoken with a confidence that surprised him, but seeing some of the worry ease from Scott's face made those little words even more important. He had to be right and Stiles had to be okay. For his own sake and for that of his friends. Stiles' friends. He hadn't even thought about them until now. He hadn't thought about letting any of them know. Not that Stiles had that many friends besides Scott. Scott and maybe the Martin girl. Now he felt a pinch of guilty for not keeping Scott informed about Stiles. And still here he was.
“What are you doing here anyway?” At Scott's surprised and slightly hurt face, he realized. No. That was not the right question. Of course Scott would be here, at Stiles' side, when he was in trouble. “I mean, how did you know?”
“Oh...” Something like relief became visible on Scott's face, like he thought maybe he wasn't expected to be here. “My mum. She... she texted me. Saying that Stiles had been brought in, that he was going into surgery and that she would take care of him. I rushed here as soon as I found her message. I'm sorry it took me so long.” Now there was a hint of guilt showing. “I was with Allison and...” He looked up towards the door and sure enough, there was a girl, standing there, shyly, like she wasn't sure she belonged there. Oh. That made sense. She had to be the girl who'd been keeping Scott away from Stiles lately; he'd heard his son complain about it often enough.
“It's okay.” Apparently Scott needed the reassurance as his features immediately relaxed upon hearing the few words, like an absolution. “You're here now, and that's all that matters. It's not like you could've done more by getting here earlier. They just parked me here when they took him to surgery; I haven't heard anything from anyone and it's driving me crazy.”
“You know Mum will make sure to let you know the second there's news to tell, right? As much as Stiles drives her crazy most of the time, he's like a second son to her. She won't leave you in the dark if she can avoid it.”
“I know. I know, but it doesn't make the waiting and the fact that I can't do a fucking thing to help him any easier. I need to see him. I need to hear that he's okay. I need to see and hear him tell me he's okay. Most of all, I need to wipe the image of my son in pain, bleeding on the floor, from my memory. I need it to not be the last picture of Stiles I have.” As strong as the Sheriff appeared most of the time, the weight of the day's events had him falling apart, leaving only a desperate father in its wake.
“I know it's not... like, you probably don't want to talk about it, but... I mean, my mum really didn't give me any details, besides that Stiles was hurt... What... How was he when you saw him?” It was such a shy voice, filled with uncertainty, that it left the Sheriff unresponsive for a moment. The girl by the door, Allison, moved forward and came to give Scott an awkward hug from behind, resting her head on his arms, offering what comfort she could. The Sheriff really wished his wife could have been there to give him the same kind of support; it was in those emotionally stacked situation that he missed her most. It was also then that he realized that he really wasn't the only one suffering from Stiles ordeal, and that even though he felt like he knew nothing, he still knew more than Scott. He sighed, gathering his thoughts to share what information he had with his son's friends.
“I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I was just so wrapped up in what happened. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I just... needed to let some frustration out, I guess.”
“Don't worry about it,” Scott said with a small smile to appease some of the tension. “I'm glad I could help with that.” He didn't seem to want to sit and shifted position to bring Allison closer to him, hugging her in return.
“We got a call earlier this afternoon, about a robbery at the gas station. The person calling had just pulled in and stepped out of her car when she heard a gunshot. She hid and called us. I was just answering when the robber stormed out, jumped in a car and drove off. She gave me what details she could and we went out looking for the car and the guy. One of my deputies spotted him and gave chase. I was on the opposite side of town and by then, the teller at the station had called it in too, requesting an ambulance. I was updated about the situation en route and changed direction to check the scene.”
The Sheriff interrupted his rambling, rubbing his hands through his hair and down his face. If one looked close enough, they would notice the dried blood around his finger nails and on the sleeves of his jacket. He breathed deeply a few times and looked up to check the door, hoping and dreading at the same time that someone would come to talk to him. There was still no one in view. He looked back at Scott, noticing how the young couple were holding each other tighter than before. They also appeared paler. Not as pale as Stiles had been. The Sheriff caught himself, not wanting to dwell back in sorrow at that moment; he closed his eyes, refocused and continued.
“I made it there before the ambulance. No one had said anything else about the victim. Not about who it was or the gravity of the wound. I can't say exactly how things happened there. All I know is that when I got to the station, I saw Stiles' Jeep parked by one of the pump; one second I'm in my cruiser, staring at this damn car, and the next I'm in the store, kneeling next to Stiles who's lying on the floor, surrounded by potato chips, not moving...” The Sheriff had to stop another time, closing his eyes, the memory too vivid. “There was just so much blood. I know I should be used to that sort of sight, but I guess when it's your flesh and... blood, it's just not the same. Someone was pressing a towel on Stiles left shoulder and another on his head. Oh God...”
“Oh my God! He got shot in...” Scott whispered, unable to finish. He finally sat down, panic written all over his face, the thought too horrific to process. Tears gathered in both teenagers' eyes. It was the sob coming from Allison that brought the Sheriff's attention really back to them, and it took just a moment for him to realize what was going on.
“Oh no. No. No. He didn't. He didn't get shot in the head. Oh God, no. I'm sorry. I... I thought so too when I got there, but he was shot in the shoulder and apparently hit his head on the way down. I didn't believe it either at first, so the teller lifted the towel to show me the gash. They're not lying when they say that head wounds bleed a lot.” He scrubbed his hair again, right hand ghosting a little longer over a spot. “Stiles stirred a bit when she pressed the towel back in place. I tried to wake him, but he just wasn't responding. Stupid kid always talking and the one time he should, there's no way to get anything out of him.” A nervous laugh, a shake of the head and the Sheriff decided to just finish sharing what he could. “I took over pressing on the wounds after that. I just had to be doing something, you know? Anything. Hell, I was pressing as hard as I could, hoping that the pain would make him react and wake up. He never did. I'm not sure how long it took for the ambulance to arrive, but then they were there and they did their things. They told me to keep doing what I was doing, while they strapped him firmly on that board and got him ready to move. I think they had to tell me more than once to let go once they were done. I just couldn't. Someone pulled me away, they said I could ride with him—like there was ever another option. It took forever to get here. They didn't even tell me anything. When he started coughing and the mask they had on his face got splattered with blood, they just kept saying it would be okay, that Stiles was young, healthy and strong, and that it was a good thing. Fuck if that's what I wanted to hear. I mean, sure I did, but not with that professional reassuring tone. God,” the Sheriff turned back to look at Scott and Allison, “tell me I don't sound like that when I'm talking to victims.” The two kids just stared at each other and back at him, unsure of what was expected from them. They were saved from having to reply when the Sheriff continued. “So anyway, there, that's what happened, that's what I know. Stiles got shot low in the left shoulder, it probably hit his lung and he took a knock on the head. And believe me when I say that he'll take another one when I get my hands on him for making me worry like this.”
It took a moment for everyone to gather their minds after the Sheriff was done, none of them quite sure what to say next.
“He is, you know,” finally offered Scott, confusing both the Sheriff and Allison. “Strong I mean. We never give him enough credit, but he's always there when it matters and he never gives up. There's just no way he's gonna start now. If only so that he can...” A doctor entering the waiting room followed by Scott's mother cut the speech short, and had the little group stop breathing while they tried to decipher the expressions on the newcomers' faces.
*****
It was Scott who reacted first, ignoring the doctor to focus on his mother. Scanning her heartbeat and trying to use all his senses to get a clue about his best friend's whereabouts. He launched at her, almost knocking Allison to the ground in the process. “He's fine, right? Tell me he's gonna be okay. You feel like he's gonna be okay.”
The Sheriff, still stuck, was riveted on the McCalls. What Scott had just said made no sense to him, and apparently not to the doctor either, but Allison seemed to relax and a small smile appeared on Melissa McCall's face. That allowed the Sheriff to hope. He stood up too, taking tentative steps forwards, waiting for either medical personal to speak up.
Scott's mother's smile grew wider when she raised her arms to hug her son, eyes falling on the Sheriff.
“I'll let Doctor Ferguson share the details, but yes, barring any complications, Stiles should be fine.”
The Sheriff took another step forward, eyes now on the doctor, eagerly awaiting confirmation of what he's just been told.
“Sheriff Stilinski,” the doctor made his way to him, hand extended, “I'm Doctor Ferguson, and I took care of your son.”
“Doctor.” He had so many questions he wanted to ask, answers that he needed, so many things running through his head, but in the end, nothing else came out. His throat was still clenched, maybe more than before, because now that his hopes had been raised higher, the chance of them not being met was just too hard to bear. Reluctantly, he let go of the doctor's hand, a hand that had possibly saved his son, and crossed his arms over his chest. He hated not being fully in control of himself, feeling insecure wasn't like him, but right now, he had to hold on to something, and with Stiles not around, he was all he had. “Stiles?” was all he managed to choke out, but it conveyed everything he needed.
“Yes. As nurse McCall mentioned, all things considered, Stiles is doing well.” The doctor gave the people around him a moment to let it really sink in that their son and friend would be okay before he went on. “As well as can be expected with what he went through. It may not seem like it when you see him, but I assure you that things are looking good. Shall we sit to discuss the details?” He could see how shaken and unstable the Sheriff was. The kid was still safely wrapped in his mother's arms, but he'd been in this position often enough to know that not much was holding the father together at the moment. They said doctors had no heart, this was his way of proving it wrong and offering support. That's apparently not how it was perceived though; not all people reacted the same.
“No. You said he was fine. Just tell me. I need to know. I need to see him. You said I could see him.” The shaking in the Sheriff's voice as he was blurting the words out only served to prove how close he was to reaching his limits.
“No. Of course. Fine. You'll see him. I just want you to know what to expect.” The doctor was prompt to reassure him. “I just thought it would be more comfortable. You seem exhausted and I'd hate to have to admit you as well if you crash. But we'll do it your way.” He paused a second to gather his thoughts and find the best way to explain the situation to his worried audience. “So. First, keep in mind that Stiles is doing fine now and don't let what I tell you get to you.” He saw panic flash over the faces looking at him. “He's fine,” he insisted. The acknowledging nods he was awaiting finally made an appearance and he deemed it safe to proceed. “As I assume you know,” he looked at the Sheriff's blood-stained uniform, “Stiles came in with a gunshot wound to the left shoulder and a head laceration. We've cleaned and stitched that one without any complications, his short hair making it just that easier. The area we had to shave off will barely be visible in a couple weeks,” he offered, trying to lighten the mood before getting to the more serious business.
“I don't know how that head injury occurred, but there appears to have been some associated blunt force trauma. It's nothing we're too worried about, but we can definitely expect at minimum a fierce headache when your son wakes up. It's only once he's awake and responsive, though, that we'll be able to know the real extent of the concussion.” The doctor paused a moment to study the people around him, gauging their reactions. They looked like they were waiting for the other shoe to drop, so he decided to just indulge them. “Now the gunshot wound... It was located pretty low in the shoulder area. I'm not going to sugar-coat it for you, the bullet did a fair amount of damage, but nothing we couldn't fix. It entered about two inches above and to the left of the heart, fractured a rib, pierced the left lung, nicked the pulmonary artery and exited in the back, damaging the scapula. I know it sounds bad, but it could have been a lot worse. Considering, Stiles has been quite lucky. Like I said, all the damages have been repaired, now we just have to monitor him closely, watch for signs of infection and give his body time to heal.”
Time stood still in the waiting room, while Scott and the Sheriff processed the information they'd just received. It was hard – for the both of them – to believe Stiles really was going to be fine after the grim report Doctor Ferguson had given them. The news would definitely sink in better if they could just see Stiles for themselves.
Scott was the first to react, slowly pulling out of his mother's arms – always keeping the contact – and looking back at her, eyes full of hope. “Mum?”
“Yes,” Melissa whispered back. It was a simple answer to a much more complex question. Yes, everything they'd just been told was true. Yes, they had all come that close to losing Stiles. Yes, he would be fine. Yes, it would take time. Yes, they'd be able to see for themselves. Yes, she was there for Scott whenever he needed it and would always be.
“Can I just, please, see my son now?” asked the Sheriff. He had been sitting around moping for too long and he was getting antsy to move. Now that he knew Stiles was alive and on the mend, he needed to get his shit together and be there for him. And he couldn't be there for him sulking in the waiting room. “Where is he?”
“He's still in recovery,” offered the Doctor. “You won't be able to see him until he's settled in a room, which should not happen before another two hours or so, depending on how he shakes the anaesthesia off. I'm sorry, I know you want—need—to see him and be with him, but those are the rules and it's for Stiles own good. We really want to avoid any complications.”
Although disappointed, the Sheriff understood. He understood rules were there for reasons and he wouldn't be one to go against them, especially not when Stiles' life was in the balance.
“Someone will let you know as soon as you can see him. In the meantime, I suggest you go home and change. There's nothing more you can do here, and to be honest, I'm not really comfortable with people running around covered in dry blood in my hospital.”
“He's right, you know,” chipped in Melissa, “you should go shower and change. I'll stay with Stiles, and I'll personally call you when he's up for visits.” She turned to Scott, throwing a side glance at Allison who was sitting silently in the back, “that works for the two of you as well. Go home. It's starting to get late and, Allison, I'm sure your father must be wondering where you are. Scott, I'll keep you updated just as I will the Sheriff.”
There was a round of arguing from all parties involved, but in the end, everyone went their own way, resigned that it was for the best. After all, what really mattered was that Stiles was still alive and that he was going to be fine.
***
FIN (for here)
AN: I'll possibly extend this, if I ever get the courage and will to do so. I already have more written, but nothing complete.
Author: Lizard971
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Prompt: hc_bingo "bullet wound"/"caught in a robbery"
Medium: Fanfic
Wordcount: 4345
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Summary: It was the call the Sheriff never wanted to get.
Characters: Sheriff Stilinski, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski
Disclaimer: Playing in a sandbox that is not mine. (Although I'll keep convincing myself that Stiles totally is mine)
AN: All thanks go to Mish who took the time to beta this although I sent it to her pretty much at the last moment. All remaining mistakes and non-sense is all mine and I deserve them for procrastinating so much all the time.
- What's your Emergency -
It all started with a call.
A 911 call.
A call Sheriff Stilinski answered personally. A call he would remember for years to come.
It could have been one of those calls, like the hundreds he got every year. It could have been Ms Cunningham calling because Fonzie—her cat—had disappeared. Again. Abducted by some dangerous individual, possibly more than one, who would then decide to return it by leaving it high up in a nearby tree. Or it could have been Mr Carter reporting the neighbours' kids once again playing in his garden, which really, was hardly trespassing considering there was no fence. Since it was Friday, it actually should have been Ms Paddington reporting inappropriate behaviour in the park; teenagers just didn't have the same restrain nowadays.
Because really, up until now, Beacon Hills had been a small town with little to no major trouble. That is, if you left out everything regarding the Hale family; ignore the fire that killed most of them, the body of Laura found cut in half and how the brother, Derek Hale, seemed to be involved every time something suspicious was happening now.
Come to think of it, Beacon Hills hadn't been that trouble free for close to a year. Neither had his son. And now, it seemed like the youngest Stilinski had managed to get himself in trouble way over his head. Stiles would be grounded for the rest of his life. That was if there still was still a Stiles to ground.
There had been so much blood.
The call had come through two hours ago, and the Sheriff was still trying to understand what had happened and how he found himself waiting, powerless, to find out if he still had a family. He couldn't even begin to imagine life without his son. Granted, he hadn't been able to imagine life without his wife back then either, but Stiles had been around to give him reasons to hang on, get up every day and move on. He never would have made it without him. Stiles had been both his anchor and his motivation; he had kept him grounded while making sure he didn't get stuck in his dark place. The family roles had been reversed for a while, with Stiles taking care of his father when really it should have been the other way around. The Sheriff had forced his son to grow up way too fast when he hadn't been able to handle his wife's death properly. If he was being honest, his son was pretty much still the one running the house. Not for long any more though. Things would change from now on. When Stiles came home, he would be taken care of. It was about time the Sheriff acted like a father again, getting more involved in his son's life.
The Sheriff was brought out of his musing by a screaming teenager running loudly towards the surgery waiting room. So much for being quiet in a hospital. It took just that long for him to recognize that disrespectful kid as being Scott and the screaming as being his name and Stiles' and demands to know what was going on, all jumbled into something barely understandable. Their eyes met and suddenly Scott was still and silent. Strangely, the Sheriff liked loud Scott better; maybe because that's how teenagers were supposed to be, loud and moving and obnoxious. Not silent and unmoving. Never silent and unmoving. Not Scott and not Stiles. Especially not Stiles. Not like Stiles had been when they reached him. Especially not like that. Not silent, motionless and bleeding.
Scott's squeezing hand on his shoulder stopped the downward spiralling. It made him wonder if that was how it happened for Stiles. Dark thoughts spiralling down until there was no way to stop them from becoming a full blown panic attack? Another thing he was probably to blame for. He looked up at Scott's worried, expecting eyes, not exactly sure what to say. Again, it was the teen who helped him out. He really had to stop having kids step in for him.
“What happened?” It was a simple question. It was an easy question. Except, for the fact that is was exactly what the Sheriff had been wondering for the past two hours already. He found his head shaking slowly from side to side. Truth was, he had no fucking idea what happened. All he had were facts. Brutal facts that made no sense when put together. So he went with what he had. A fact.
“Stiles' been shot.” That was a fact. The main fact. The only fact that really mattered at the moment. The one that had him twisting his mind—and body—in this hospital chair for over two hours now.
“Stiles' been shot,” he repeated softly, like saying it out loud just made him realize, like it had just become real. “Stiles' been shot. My son's been shot...” Yes, his son had been shot, and the Sheriff had been the one to find him bleeding, barely conscious.
“How? What happened?” Again with that question. Didn't Scott understand that he didn't have the answer to that specific question.
“ I don't know! I just... Don't. Know.” There. It was out. He was the Sheriff. He was there to serve and protect and know things, and he had done none of it when it mattered most to him. He hadn't been able to protect his own son and he couldn't figure out how it had come to that.
“Hey. Hey, it's okay. It's okay. He's gonna be okay. He's Stiles, right?” Ha. The Sheriff let out a small laugh at that. Like Stiles being Stiles was enough to make everything alright. But maybe it was just as simple as that. What or who had ever been able to stop Stiles from doing something? Nothing. And no one, besides his mother. Not even him. No. Like Stiles was that unstoppable force, the energizer bunny that just kept going no matter what. It gave him hope. It gave him a light at the end of the tunnel to focus on. Maybe it really was just as simple as trusting his son again. He regretted telling Stiles he didn't trust him anymore, but it had been legitimate at the time. Stiles had been volatile and always finding himself in the middle of the latest police case. Come to think of it, he should have grounded him a few months ago when things started getting weird; not that it would have worked. It had also been unfair. No matter what, Stiles was his kid and really, he'd never let his father down, had always been there when needed. It was not that he ever stopped trusting him, more like he temporarily forgot who his son was. Now was definitely the right time to remember and have faith in him again.
“Yes. Yes, he will.” The Sheriff's words were spoken with a confidence that surprised him, but seeing some of the worry ease from Scott's face made those little words even more important. He had to be right and Stiles had to be okay. For his own sake and for that of his friends. Stiles' friends. He hadn't even thought about them until now. He hadn't thought about letting any of them know. Not that Stiles had that many friends besides Scott. Scott and maybe the Martin girl. Now he felt a pinch of guilty for not keeping Scott informed about Stiles. And still here he was.
“What are you doing here anyway?” At Scott's surprised and slightly hurt face, he realized. No. That was not the right question. Of course Scott would be here, at Stiles' side, when he was in trouble. “I mean, how did you know?”
“Oh...” Something like relief became visible on Scott's face, like he thought maybe he wasn't expected to be here. “My mum. She... she texted me. Saying that Stiles had been brought in, that he was going into surgery and that she would take care of him. I rushed here as soon as I found her message. I'm sorry it took me so long.” Now there was a hint of guilt showing. “I was with Allison and...” He looked up towards the door and sure enough, there was a girl, standing there, shyly, like she wasn't sure she belonged there. Oh. That made sense. She had to be the girl who'd been keeping Scott away from Stiles lately; he'd heard his son complain about it often enough.
“It's okay.” Apparently Scott needed the reassurance as his features immediately relaxed upon hearing the few words, like an absolution. “You're here now, and that's all that matters. It's not like you could've done more by getting here earlier. They just parked me here when they took him to surgery; I haven't heard anything from anyone and it's driving me crazy.”
“You know Mum will make sure to let you know the second there's news to tell, right? As much as Stiles drives her crazy most of the time, he's like a second son to her. She won't leave you in the dark if she can avoid it.”
“I know. I know, but it doesn't make the waiting and the fact that I can't do a fucking thing to help him any easier. I need to see him. I need to hear that he's okay. I need to see and hear him tell me he's okay. Most of all, I need to wipe the image of my son in pain, bleeding on the floor, from my memory. I need it to not be the last picture of Stiles I have.” As strong as the Sheriff appeared most of the time, the weight of the day's events had him falling apart, leaving only a desperate father in its wake.
“I know it's not... like, you probably don't want to talk about it, but... I mean, my mum really didn't give me any details, besides that Stiles was hurt... What... How was he when you saw him?” It was such a shy voice, filled with uncertainty, that it left the Sheriff unresponsive for a moment. The girl by the door, Allison, moved forward and came to give Scott an awkward hug from behind, resting her head on his arms, offering what comfort she could. The Sheriff really wished his wife could have been there to give him the same kind of support; it was in those emotionally stacked situation that he missed her most. It was also then that he realized that he really wasn't the only one suffering from Stiles ordeal, and that even though he felt like he knew nothing, he still knew more than Scott. He sighed, gathering his thoughts to share what information he had with his son's friends.
“I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I was just so wrapped up in what happened. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I just... needed to let some frustration out, I guess.”
“Don't worry about it,” Scott said with a small smile to appease some of the tension. “I'm glad I could help with that.” He didn't seem to want to sit and shifted position to bring Allison closer to him, hugging her in return.
“We got a call earlier this afternoon, about a robbery at the gas station. The person calling had just pulled in and stepped out of her car when she heard a gunshot. She hid and called us. I was just answering when the robber stormed out, jumped in a car and drove off. She gave me what details she could and we went out looking for the car and the guy. One of my deputies spotted him and gave chase. I was on the opposite side of town and by then, the teller at the station had called it in too, requesting an ambulance. I was updated about the situation en route and changed direction to check the scene.”
The Sheriff interrupted his rambling, rubbing his hands through his hair and down his face. If one looked close enough, they would notice the dried blood around his finger nails and on the sleeves of his jacket. He breathed deeply a few times and looked up to check the door, hoping and dreading at the same time that someone would come to talk to him. There was still no one in view. He looked back at Scott, noticing how the young couple were holding each other tighter than before. They also appeared paler. Not as pale as Stiles had been. The Sheriff caught himself, not wanting to dwell back in sorrow at that moment; he closed his eyes, refocused and continued.
“I made it there before the ambulance. No one had said anything else about the victim. Not about who it was or the gravity of the wound. I can't say exactly how things happened there. All I know is that when I got to the station, I saw Stiles' Jeep parked by one of the pump; one second I'm in my cruiser, staring at this damn car, and the next I'm in the store, kneeling next to Stiles who's lying on the floor, surrounded by potato chips, not moving...” The Sheriff had to stop another time, closing his eyes, the memory too vivid. “There was just so much blood. I know I should be used to that sort of sight, but I guess when it's your flesh and... blood, it's just not the same. Someone was pressing a towel on Stiles left shoulder and another on his head. Oh God...”
“Oh my God! He got shot in...” Scott whispered, unable to finish. He finally sat down, panic written all over his face, the thought too horrific to process. Tears gathered in both teenagers' eyes. It was the sob coming from Allison that brought the Sheriff's attention really back to them, and it took just a moment for him to realize what was going on.
“Oh no. No. No. He didn't. He didn't get shot in the head. Oh God, no. I'm sorry. I... I thought so too when I got there, but he was shot in the shoulder and apparently hit his head on the way down. I didn't believe it either at first, so the teller lifted the towel to show me the gash. They're not lying when they say that head wounds bleed a lot.” He scrubbed his hair again, right hand ghosting a little longer over a spot. “Stiles stirred a bit when she pressed the towel back in place. I tried to wake him, but he just wasn't responding. Stupid kid always talking and the one time he should, there's no way to get anything out of him.” A nervous laugh, a shake of the head and the Sheriff decided to just finish sharing what he could. “I took over pressing on the wounds after that. I just had to be doing something, you know? Anything. Hell, I was pressing as hard as I could, hoping that the pain would make him react and wake up. He never did. I'm not sure how long it took for the ambulance to arrive, but then they were there and they did their things. They told me to keep doing what I was doing, while they strapped him firmly on that board and got him ready to move. I think they had to tell me more than once to let go once they were done. I just couldn't. Someone pulled me away, they said I could ride with him—like there was ever another option. It took forever to get here. They didn't even tell me anything. When he started coughing and the mask they had on his face got splattered with blood, they just kept saying it would be okay, that Stiles was young, healthy and strong, and that it was a good thing. Fuck if that's what I wanted to hear. I mean, sure I did, but not with that professional reassuring tone. God,” the Sheriff turned back to look at Scott and Allison, “tell me I don't sound like that when I'm talking to victims.” The two kids just stared at each other and back at him, unsure of what was expected from them. They were saved from having to reply when the Sheriff continued. “So anyway, there, that's what happened, that's what I know. Stiles got shot low in the left shoulder, it probably hit his lung and he took a knock on the head. And believe me when I say that he'll take another one when I get my hands on him for making me worry like this.”
It took a moment for everyone to gather their minds after the Sheriff was done, none of them quite sure what to say next.
“He is, you know,” finally offered Scott, confusing both the Sheriff and Allison. “Strong I mean. We never give him enough credit, but he's always there when it matters and he never gives up. There's just no way he's gonna start now. If only so that he can...” A doctor entering the waiting room followed by Scott's mother cut the speech short, and had the little group stop breathing while they tried to decipher the expressions on the newcomers' faces.
*****
It was Scott who reacted first, ignoring the doctor to focus on his mother. Scanning her heartbeat and trying to use all his senses to get a clue about his best friend's whereabouts. He launched at her, almost knocking Allison to the ground in the process. “He's fine, right? Tell me he's gonna be okay. You feel like he's gonna be okay.”
The Sheriff, still stuck, was riveted on the McCalls. What Scott had just said made no sense to him, and apparently not to the doctor either, but Allison seemed to relax and a small smile appeared on Melissa McCall's face. That allowed the Sheriff to hope. He stood up too, taking tentative steps forwards, waiting for either medical personal to speak up.
Scott's mother's smile grew wider when she raised her arms to hug her son, eyes falling on the Sheriff.
“I'll let Doctor Ferguson share the details, but yes, barring any complications, Stiles should be fine.”
The Sheriff took another step forward, eyes now on the doctor, eagerly awaiting confirmation of what he's just been told.
“Sheriff Stilinski,” the doctor made his way to him, hand extended, “I'm Doctor Ferguson, and I took care of your son.”
“Doctor.” He had so many questions he wanted to ask, answers that he needed, so many things running through his head, but in the end, nothing else came out. His throat was still clenched, maybe more than before, because now that his hopes had been raised higher, the chance of them not being met was just too hard to bear. Reluctantly, he let go of the doctor's hand, a hand that had possibly saved his son, and crossed his arms over his chest. He hated not being fully in control of himself, feeling insecure wasn't like him, but right now, he had to hold on to something, and with Stiles not around, he was all he had. “Stiles?” was all he managed to choke out, but it conveyed everything he needed.
“Yes. As nurse McCall mentioned, all things considered, Stiles is doing well.” The doctor gave the people around him a moment to let it really sink in that their son and friend would be okay before he went on. “As well as can be expected with what he went through. It may not seem like it when you see him, but I assure you that things are looking good. Shall we sit to discuss the details?” He could see how shaken and unstable the Sheriff was. The kid was still safely wrapped in his mother's arms, but he'd been in this position often enough to know that not much was holding the father together at the moment. They said doctors had no heart, this was his way of proving it wrong and offering support. That's apparently not how it was perceived though; not all people reacted the same.
“No. You said he was fine. Just tell me. I need to know. I need to see him. You said I could see him.” The shaking in the Sheriff's voice as he was blurting the words out only served to prove how close he was to reaching his limits.
“No. Of course. Fine. You'll see him. I just want you to know what to expect.” The doctor was prompt to reassure him. “I just thought it would be more comfortable. You seem exhausted and I'd hate to have to admit you as well if you crash. But we'll do it your way.” He paused a second to gather his thoughts and find the best way to explain the situation to his worried audience. “So. First, keep in mind that Stiles is doing fine now and don't let what I tell you get to you.” He saw panic flash over the faces looking at him. “He's fine,” he insisted. The acknowledging nods he was awaiting finally made an appearance and he deemed it safe to proceed. “As I assume you know,” he looked at the Sheriff's blood-stained uniform, “Stiles came in with a gunshot wound to the left shoulder and a head laceration. We've cleaned and stitched that one without any complications, his short hair making it just that easier. The area we had to shave off will barely be visible in a couple weeks,” he offered, trying to lighten the mood before getting to the more serious business.
“I don't know how that head injury occurred, but there appears to have been some associated blunt force trauma. It's nothing we're too worried about, but we can definitely expect at minimum a fierce headache when your son wakes up. It's only once he's awake and responsive, though, that we'll be able to know the real extent of the concussion.” The doctor paused a moment to study the people around him, gauging their reactions. They looked like they were waiting for the other shoe to drop, so he decided to just indulge them. “Now the gunshot wound... It was located pretty low in the shoulder area. I'm not going to sugar-coat it for you, the bullet did a fair amount of damage, but nothing we couldn't fix. It entered about two inches above and to the left of the heart, fractured a rib, pierced the left lung, nicked the pulmonary artery and exited in the back, damaging the scapula. I know it sounds bad, but it could have been a lot worse. Considering, Stiles has been quite lucky. Like I said, all the damages have been repaired, now we just have to monitor him closely, watch for signs of infection and give his body time to heal.”
Time stood still in the waiting room, while Scott and the Sheriff processed the information they'd just received. It was hard – for the both of them – to believe Stiles really was going to be fine after the grim report Doctor Ferguson had given them. The news would definitely sink in better if they could just see Stiles for themselves.
Scott was the first to react, slowly pulling out of his mother's arms – always keeping the contact – and looking back at her, eyes full of hope. “Mum?”
“Yes,” Melissa whispered back. It was a simple answer to a much more complex question. Yes, everything they'd just been told was true. Yes, they had all come that close to losing Stiles. Yes, he would be fine. Yes, it would take time. Yes, they'd be able to see for themselves. Yes, she was there for Scott whenever he needed it and would always be.
“Can I just, please, see my son now?” asked the Sheriff. He had been sitting around moping for too long and he was getting antsy to move. Now that he knew Stiles was alive and on the mend, he needed to get his shit together and be there for him. And he couldn't be there for him sulking in the waiting room. “Where is he?”
“He's still in recovery,” offered the Doctor. “You won't be able to see him until he's settled in a room, which should not happen before another two hours or so, depending on how he shakes the anaesthesia off. I'm sorry, I know you want—need—to see him and be with him, but those are the rules and it's for Stiles own good. We really want to avoid any complications.”
Although disappointed, the Sheriff understood. He understood rules were there for reasons and he wouldn't be one to go against them, especially not when Stiles' life was in the balance.
“Someone will let you know as soon as you can see him. In the meantime, I suggest you go home and change. There's nothing more you can do here, and to be honest, I'm not really comfortable with people running around covered in dry blood in my hospital.”
“He's right, you know,” chipped in Melissa, “you should go shower and change. I'll stay with Stiles, and I'll personally call you when he's up for visits.” She turned to Scott, throwing a side glance at Allison who was sitting silently in the back, “that works for the two of you as well. Go home. It's starting to get late and, Allison, I'm sure your father must be wondering where you are. Scott, I'll keep you updated just as I will the Sheriff.”
There was a round of arguing from all parties involved, but in the end, everyone went their own way, resigned that it was for the best. After all, what really mattered was that Stiles was still alive and that he was going to be fine.
***
FIN (for here)
AN: I'll possibly extend this, if I ever get the courage and will to do so. I already have more written, but nothing complete.