skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

She holds on to his hand lightly, until the nurse brings Mrs. McCall in, who quickly takes over. She gets the story, such as it is, out of Stiles easily, and looks over the clipboard with the girl’s handwriting on it.

“Thank you, Stiles,” she says at last, and Sumer uncurls her fingers from Stiles’, letting him go. “You say he said you might be contaminated? I can run some tests, if you’re worried, but it looks like all we have here is a bad case of malnourishment. Nothing we can’t handle easily.” Mrs. McCall smiles at them both, and sends Stiles out the door to meet his father.

Then she puts the clipboard back in Summer’s hands and asks her to write out as much as she can about herself. Mrs. McCall busies herself setting up an IV line to help with nourishment.

Stiles just quietly tries to bear with the fact that she’s grown very clingy to him so fast. He was mainly trying not to bite his own nails so that he didn’t look ridiculous in her presence, but it was likely that she didn’t care all that much. Ms. McCall takes over soon though, taking the strain slightly off of Stiles.

He nods, knowing that she’ll understand in that moment. Stiles just listens to the words of the familiar nurse for a moment, knowing that he’s a large part of this as well. Regardless, it’s besides the point because then he’s ushered into the hallway to meet with his father who’s finally arrived. It’s granted that he’ll want to know exactly what’s going on, anyway.

The teen doesn’t know what happens to the mystery girl when he leaves, but he hopes another episode doesn’t occur. He can’t stay here all night, especially because he’s got a life to live. Not to mention there’s the pack and all of its excessive problems.

They give her drugs to force her to sleep, and don’t let her wake up until the next morning.

It’s awful.

She’s mostly just on a sugar drip, and they insist she eat, but she’s alone, in a strange place, and the one person she feels any sort of safety around isn’t there. She huddles up tight in the bed, shying away from the nurses who tend to her.

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

She looks at him, expression pleading, and lays the clipboard down. Most of the folk in the room have left, leaving Stiles, a doctor (black and competent), and a nurse. The nurse picks up the clipboard and glances over it, before glancing at Stiles.

“Why don’t you stay in here with our Jane Doe?” the nurse says. “She’s a lot calmer with you here, and you can tell Dr Dunbar what you know about her. I’ll see if Mrs. McCall is available to take over.”

Stiles sees her expression and bites his bottom lip nervously. He can’t help the wave of anxiousness overwhelming him. There are many people counting on him in that moment, something he didn’t particularly need in that given moment. There was already enough pressure within the pack and, as much as he was interested in being a hero for someone, now was not the time to do so.

However, when he gets requested by multiple people, he can’t possibly ignore it. He hardly has a choice in the matter. The teen glances his eyes in the direction of the door for a moment before licking his bottom lip and nodding. “Ah yeah, that’s fine. I can totally do that.”

She holds on to his hand lightly, until the nurse brings Mrs. McCall in, who quickly takes over. She gets the story, such as it is, out of Stiles easily, and looks over the clipboard with the girl’s handwriting on it.

“Thank you, Stiles,” she says at last, and Sumer uncurls her fingers from Stiles’, letting him go. “You say he said you might be contaminated? I can run some tests, if you’re worried, but it looks like all we have here is a bad case of malnourishment. Nothing we can’t handle easily.” Mrs. McCall smiles at them both, and sends Stiles out the door to meet his father.

Then she puts the clipboard back in Summer’s hands and asks her to write out as much as she can about herself. Mrs. McCall busies herself setting up an IV line to help with nourishment.

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

She taps the pen on the board for a moment, before writing, ‘I sensed it before someone here you trust you look up to. who is it? I will trust them here. no one else”.

It’s strange that she’s putting so much faith in him, mainly because the two of them have just met. She can’t even speak and yet she feels..attached to him. Stiles doesn’t grasp it. “You mean Ms. McCall? I can…get her now,” he says, stumbling over his words.

She looks at him, expression pleading, and lays the clipboard down. Most of the folk in the room have left, leaving Stiles, a doctor (black and competent), and a nurse. The nurse picks up the clipboard and glances over it, before glancing at Stiles.

“Why don’t you stay in here with our Jane Doe?” the nurse says. “She’s a lot calmer with you here, and you can tell Dr Dunbar what you know about her. I’ll see if Mrs. McCall is available to take over.”

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

She frowns, and shakes his arm, tapping insistently on the clipboard. He’s not even paying attention — he hadn’t struck her before as one of those people who is only willing to help until they can dump the needy person off on someone else. It hurts.

Stiles doesn’t even know what she’s trying to do until he hears the sound of hard wood being tapped on. He looks up from what he’s looking at before, squinting at her handwriting. The person he trusts? Did she somehow know that he knew about Scott’s mom? It was possible.

“The person I trust? What’s that supposed to mean?”

She taps the pen on the board for a moment, before writing, ‘I sensed it before someone here you trust you look up to. who is it? I will trust them here. no one else”.

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

One of the nurses is quicker on the uptake than Stiles, and provides a clipboard and a pen. She lets Stiles go to write, ‘I want to be checked by the person you trust,’ and shows it to him. 

Stiles just nods, doing as he’s told. He feels more adult than he’s ever felt in his entire life, mainly because he’s never had to do something like this. Honestly he’d just prefer to be with his dad for the moment. Regardless, Stiles knows that he can’t do that and he quietly signs the document.

For once, he’s much more silent.

She frowns, and shakes his arm, tapping insistently on the clipboard. He’s not even paying attention — he hadn’t struck her before as one of those people who is only willing to help until they can dump the needy person off on someone else. It hurts.

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

As soon as Stiles appears in the doorway, she relaxes a little. She still won’t let anyone else touch her, but she reaches out for him, taking his hand as soon as he’s close enough. After a moment where she just breathes, rocking back and forth ever so slightly, she pretends to write on the back of his hand, looking up hopefully.

Getting your hand taken by a stranger was a little strange, the emotion of being incredibly uncomfortable creeping up on his shoulder. He quietly endured it, just hoping for the given moment that things would pass quickly. Besides, he had saved her. He did expect to leave her at the hospital after everything was handled…but apparently that wasn’t going to occur.

One of the nurses is quicker on the uptake than Stiles, and provides a clipboard and a pen. She lets Stiles go to write, ‘I want to be checked by the person you trust,’ and shows it to him. 

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

All the nurses can do is try to prevent her from hurting herself while the seizure runs its course. It confuses them when she exhibits immediate awareness of her surroundings, as soon as her muscles stop convulsing — that’s not a typical response to strong seizures. She won’t let anyone touch her after, either, but fights to the limit of her exhausted body.

Finally, someone a little wiser in the ways of recalcitrant patients suggests they get Stiles in there, since she seemed to trust him before. Almost as soon as the words are out of the doctor’s mouth, Summer nods, frantically.

Stiles can’t hear or see anything from where he’s standing, still stuck in the waiting room. He assumed that they wouldn’t allow him in because he wasn’t family, something he thought was a little stupid in this situation. For once though, Stiles managed to keep his mouth shut about that opinion. He didn’t get a single bit of information for the longest time, sitting there in the dark about the mystery girl he’d brought in to the hospital.

After what seemed like a century, a doctor is trotting out of where he had disappeared previously, appearing over to Stiles’ side immediately. He requests him to come with him, informing that they could use him. Stiles gives Scott and his mother one last look before following the doctor, having no clue what he’s getting himself into.

As soon as Stiles appears in the doorway, she relaxes a little. She still won’t let anyone else touch her, but she reaches out for him, taking his hand as soon as he’s close enough. After a moment where she just breathes, rocking back and forth ever so slightly, she pretends to write on the back of his hand, looking up hopefully.

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

She’s among strangers again — real strangers, whom she isn’t sure she can trust. She’s so tired, and she’s afraid if she opens up to find out if she can trust them, she won’t be able to close back down. But she /needs/ to know — there is entirely too much that seems on the verge of familiarity, and she cannot talk to the people around her.

So she lets down her shields, and the whole hospital pours through her: all the pain, anger, anguish, stress, terror — it shocks into her, crushing her sense of self.

Then she seizes.

The room they have her in explodes into a frenzy of activity.

Stiles quietly chews on his fingernails, listening to Scott and his mother babble on about various possibilities of what could be the situation with the girl. He debated on whether he wanted to call his father or not, let him know just what exactly his son was doing at the current moment. Especially if he had been calling his cell phone in attempt to get is attention. Regardless, calling his dad was beginning to come close to a necessity.

This being said, he did. His father sounded a bit worried at first, as per usual, but then frustrated as he claimed that he was heading in the direction of the hospital for him. That wasn’t originally what he wanted in the end, but it technically worked.

So he waits.

All the nurses can do is try to prevent her from hurting herself while the seizure runs its course. It confuses them when she exhibits immediate awareness of her surroundings, as soon as her muscles stop convulsing — that’s not a typical response to strong seizures. She won’t let anyone touch her after, either, but fights to the limit of her exhausted body.

Finally, someone a little wiser in the ways of recalcitrant patients suggests they get Stiles in there, since she seemed to trust him before. Almost as soon as the words are out of the doctor’s mouth, Summer nods, frantically.

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

She finds her way back to the surface of consciousness just a few moments later. She looks up at the stranger, surprised but grateful, and shares that feeling with him. They aren’t going in the same direction as they were, but she still can’t sense the hunter. So that’s good. Wincing at the pain of the scrapes, she gets her arms around the stranger’s neck, to help him carry her. She’s pretty sure if he puts her down she’s just going to fall over again.

Time passes on before she finally regains consciousness. Scott had arrived soon after he’d gotten to the hospital, bringing her in and handing her over to the doctors to take her away. He wants to follow those doctors, mainly because they could use all the information in the world, but Stiles knew he couldn’t do that. He just had to stay patient with Scott and Ms. McCall, attempting to explain just what happened.

She’s among strangers again — real strangers, whom she isn’t sure she can trust. She’s so tired, and she’s afraid if she opens up to find out if she can trust them, she won’t be able to close back down. But she /needs/ to know — there is entirely too much that seems on the verge of familiarity, and she cannot talk to the people around her.

So she lets down her shields, and the whole hospital pours through her: all the pain, anger, anguish, stress, terror — it shocks into her, crushing her sense of self.

Then she seizes.

The room they have her in explodes into a frenzy of activity.

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

If everything hurt before, it all hurts even more now. There’s a new hole in her already ragged jeans, and her palms are skinned now. Just finding the energy to move is hard; she’s so tired. She manages to force her eyes open, tears seeping from under the lashes, and look at the stranger teen, but darkness is wavering at the edges of her vision.

She starts to shake her head, starts to lift her palms and show him, and the blackness overwhelms her.

She’s all scratched up now, worse than her already poor attire that she had before. The unfamiliar girl slowly scrambles to an upright position, blood slightly pouring from her wounds. Stiles groans, unable to even response or help her, stress pouring into his veins. The teen picks her up, carrying her in the direction of the hospital, planning on getting something there.

It’s the only place he thinks he can go, hoping strongly that Ms. McCall will be there in some form of way.

She finds her way back to the surface of consciousness just a few moments later. She looks up at the stranger, surprised but grateful, and shares that feeling with him. They aren’t going in the same direction as they were, but she still can’t sense the hunter. So that’s good. Wincing at the pain of the scrapes, she gets her arms around the stranger’s neck, to help him carry her. She’s pretty sure if he puts her down she’s just going to fall over again.