Hey guys I wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who reviewed this story. Each one meant the world to me! Thanks to Seira chin, wideeyedwanderer, Hi14, Drew, coley, jadedquartz, lolsmileyface6, Little Bucky, and the one anonymous guest who have reviewed the story up until this point!

And now here is the the last chapter with assorted POVs finding out/seeing Stiles in the hospital featuring Parrish's procrastination...

Scott POV

He gets the call on Saturday.

Allison's dad invited him over for lunch to talk about the details of the Pack situation now that Boyd and Erica left. By noon, Scott's hanging out in Allison's room while she reads a book on her bed. Things between them have been strained, but they're working on becoming friends. Being in the same room, not really doing anything, is a great start.

His phone rings, breaking the silence (that was admittedly awkward in the first place) in the room. The number is the Sheriff, so Scott answers. "Hey, Sheriff."

"Scott." Scott already knows something's going on by the tone of his voice. He sounds tired. Scott hears people shouting and alarms beeping in the background.

"What's going on?" Scott asks. Allison puts down her book and joins Scott. "Sheriff?"

"It's Stiles."

Scott's blood runs cold, and he and Allison are already heading down the stairs and out to her car. "Stiles? What happened?"

The Sheriff sighs. "He was in a car accident."

The thought of running straight to the hospital is very appealing right now. Before he can end the call, Allison places her hand on Scott's arm, and shakes her head.

"Let's go," she says, grabbing the keys to her car.

Scott doesn't follow, and runs as fast as he can to the hospital.

It takes him far longer than he would have liked, and he manages to find the Sheriff with relative ease. "What happened?"

The Sheriff shrugs. "The EMT's said he hit a deer and flew through the windshield."

"Where is he?"

"ICU. Even though it happened last night, Stiles hit his head on the concrete and might have some... problems."

Scott nods, but he doesn't feel like he fully understands yet. Stiles was in a car accident. Stiles got hurt. But he is okay for now, nothing immediately serious. "When can we see him?"

"Uh, they said they wanted to perform another X-Ray, and they'll be keeping him in the ICU until tomorrow. So in about an hour."

Scott sits with the Sheriff, not saying anything at all, and is joined by Allison and Lydia shortly after. Together, they hold hands and wait for the doctor to tell the Sheriff the news.

When the doctor does come over, the Sheriff is on his feet before the doctor even asks for those with Stiles Stilinski.

"He had very minimal damage to his skull despite being thrown through the windshield and landing on pavement. He has minor scraping on the front and back of his head, no chips or fractures, and no sign of inflammation, but he does have a slight concussion. On the other side of things, he has a broken femur bone in his left leg, three cracked ribs and two bruised ones, a fractured left arm from protecting himself going through the windshield, dislocated shoulder, he had some internal bleeding when they initially operated on him last night but it was solved fairly quickly, and just minor scrapes and bruising all over his body. He actually very impressive scarring over his ribs. What happened?"

The Sheriff is clearly confused, and Scott realizes it must have been Parrish who got hurt. Scott wonders if Stiles is ever going to tell his dad.

"I'm not sure. Can we see him?"

The doctor smiles. "Of course. He's on some medication that makes him very drowsy, but he'll be off that by tomorrow. He'll most likely be asleep "

"Thank you."

The doctor leads them to a door, promises to stop by later tonight, and leaves down the hall. The Sheriff and Scott walk in, Scott momentarily stunned at seeing his best friend lying motionless on the hospital bed, surrounded by machines and needles sticking out of his arms.

The Sheriff drags the chair from the wall to sit next to the bed, holding Stiles' hand gently. Scott can see the tears welling up in his eyes, and Scott can feel his own begin to water.

"He'll get through this. He'll be fine," Scott says, standing next to the Sheriff and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Clearing his throat, the Sheriff nods. "Yeah, of course he will." They wait in silence, hoping their voices will be enough to wake Stiles, but he continues to sleep. "Do you know anything about what the doctor said? Something about scars on his ribs?"

Scott shakes his head. "I don't. Sorry."

He nods, glancing at his watch. "You should go home, get some sleep. He'll be in general care soon, and everyone can see him then."

"Yeah." He wants to do something more, but there really isn't much to say. Stiles isn't in a coma, he'll wake up soon, and he'll be okay.

Scott reminds himself of that as he walks out of the hospital, telling his friends what the doctor said, and somehow finding himself in the middle of a pile of people hugging him.

"Scott?" His mom calls out, rushing towards them. "Scott! I heard what happened. Is Stiles alright?"

Though he nods his head, he feels like breaking down. His throat is thick, he can't speak, and his mom knows. She grabs him tight, resting her head on his, and not saying a word as he lets himself go in her arms.

"Let's get you home. You can see Stiles tomorrow, I promise."

Scott doesn't complain as she shepherds him away, saying goodbye to his friends, or when she tucks him into bed. He manages to fall asleep almost instantly.

Lydia POV

Her hand was cramping from writing so much, but her parents confiscated her computer a week ago and don't look like they're going to give it back anytime soon.

(It wasn't her fault the guy used her mom's bathroom. He was an idiot. Lydia's actually kind of glad her mom basically banned her from outside life. No idiots trying to hit on her and her "falling" for the bait.)

Lydia is starting her third essay when she gets a knock on her door. "Come in," she yells. She doesn't bother looking up, knowing it was one of her parents. To her surprise, a different voice speaks.

"Lydia," Allison says. Lydia looks up.

"Wow, you look terrible," she comments, frowning at Allison's clearly forced calm demeanor.

Allison rolls her eyes and runs a hand through her hair. Lydia stares at her, beginning to look at Allison in a new light. Her hands are shaking, face pulled tight with... grief. Something happened.

"Who?" Lydia says, getting up and off the bed. "Who got hurt?"

Lydia's next to Allison by the time she says anything. "Stiles." Allison's voice cracks a little, and she has to clear her throat. "Lydia, we have to go. Scott's probably there by now."

Lydia follows Allison out of the room. "What happened? Why didn't I feel anything?"

"What do you mean?" Allison says as they walk out the front door.

"I mean," Lydia says. Allison should already know this. "Before everything and anything bad happens, I get a feeling. I usually know when it happens."

Allison pauses, hand on the car door. "Maybe you didn't feel it because it wasn't supposed to happen."

Lydia cocks her head. "How so?" She says as she enters the car, pulling on her seatbelt.

Allison thinks about it, then shakes her head. "Nothing. It's just-" She starts the car. "You feel something about to happen because it was either meant to happen, or whatever powers you have know it's going to happen."

"And..."

"Maybe Stiles was never supposed to get hurt. Maybe the universe got messed up and he got caught in the crossfire."

Something in Lydia's head clicks. "Like there was a plan..."

"And Stiles screwed it up."

Danny POV

"I'm sorry... What?"

So, apparently, Stiles was in a car accident. No one decided to tell him because no one ever tells him anything. Like the fact that werewolves are real, or kanimas, or hunters. Danny would be offended if he didn't understand why he was kept in the dark.

He gets it.

But... it's Stiles. No, they weren't the best of friends. But he has to know at least this much. He doesn't even hear about it until he's being released from the hospital with a dislocated shoulder on Wednesday morning.

"Stiles, get back in bed."

"But-"

"No buts. Now, bed." Danny hears a little shuffling, then, "There. Was that so hard?"

"Yes. Actually it was. I was thrown out of my car, remember?" Stiles bites back. (Danny can hear the fondness in there. Somewhere.)

The other person (who's voice sounds deep and identifiable) sighs. "How can I forget?"

Danny walks into the room, and is faced with Stiles smiling, and Derek Hale sitting in a chair, glaring at the boy. Danny waves at Stiles.

"Hey! Danny! What's going on?" Stiles says.

"Uh, dislocated shoulder. Last night's practice." Danny rotates the injured shoulder.

Stiles' face falls. "Oh, man. Sorry 'bout that. Hope you feel better."

"Yeah. Thanks. You too." To pretend he wasn't just outside, eavesdropping, Danny says, "So what happened?" He moves closer to the bed. Stiles' face and arms are scratches up (even a split lip), his leg's in a cast, his arm's in a splint, and his head is wrapped in gauze.

Stiles grins again. "I got into a car accident."

"I'm sorry... What?"

"Yeah. Accident. In a car."

Danny rolls his eyes. "Then why are you smiling?"

Stiles shrugs. "I don't know. I actually feel kind of tired." On cue, Stiles yawns. Derek rolls his eyes, and stands up. Danny (totally does not) gape at him. The shirt he's wearing now reminds him of a last year when Stiles said he was Miguel. (Danny figured out it was Derek Hale less than two hours later on the news, but mindfully kept the information to himself.)

"I think you should leave," Derek says, sounding more like a warning than a friendly invitation.

"Hey, no threatening Danny," Stiles reprimands, even going so far as to wag his finger at Derek. Derek just rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, no need to wolf out on me," Danny says, watching closely for their reactions.

Priceless, by the way.

Stiles chokes, Derek's face turns to stone, and Danny has to bite his cheek from smiling too hard. He leans over, pats Derek on the arm, and says, "Chill dude. Just an expression."

The relief that fills their faces? Again, priceless.

Danny leaves with a wide smile, sore arm, the promise to return later with everyone and sign his cast, and the knowledge that he is way better at keeping secrets than every other person in this town.

Parrish POV

He starts to think it's a bad idea as soon as he walks up to the Stilinski household. It's Thursday evening, Stiles was in the accident last Friday night, and Parrish was supposed to tell Stiles what Deaton told him on Sunday and ended up panicking and not doing it until now.

Still, he needs to just check in anyways. Make sure Stiles is okay. (He doesn't know why, but he has to.)

Parrish is about to knock on the door when Sheriff Stilinski opens the door.

"Deputy Parrish. How can I help you?"

Parrish gulps. "I came to visit Stiles. If that's all right with you, of course."

Sheriff laughs, and slaps a hand on Parrish's shoulder. "He has a visitor right now, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind the company."

Parrish heads up the stairs per Sheriff's directions, and down the hall to the right. Stiles is propped up, grinning like an idiot. Someone else is in the room, but Parrish doesn't know who yet.

Whoever it is, they have a very deep voice. "No, I told you-"

"You did not! You're such a liar."

"You know what..."

Parrish holds his breath, thinking he's been caught. When there's no movement, he thinks he's in the clear. That's when someone grabs his collar and drags him inside the room.

"What the hell?" He yells.

"Derek! Stop! Derek!" The hand releases him, and Parrish, luckily, lands on his feet. The man towering over him is glaring, baring his teeth, and hands in tight fists. When the man, Derek, looks at his face, all the tense lines evaporate.

"I know you," Derek says. He whips his head back to Stiles, and sighs. "Sorry about that. I'll leave."

"Derek," Stiles says. "Wait-"

Derek closes the door on Stiles' words. Parrish stands there, rubbing the back of his neck, and blushing.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have-"

Stiles laughs, and waves Parrish over. "Dude. Don't even worry about it. Derek'll be back." He leans in close, and stage-whispers, "Derek's actually a big baby. He doesn't know when to stay and when to leave." He grins.

Parrish nods, smiles, and sits down in the chair next to Stiles' bed. "I heard about the accident from the other cops in the station. Are you okay?"

He waves Parrish off. "Perfect. I'm in bed rest for another week or so while my leg heals." Stiles gently taps the cast, which has writing all over it already. Stiles pats down his covers, searching for something.

When he finds it, Stiles hands Parrish a black marker. Parrish stares at it, unsure whether Stiles is really coherent enough to ask.

"Yes," Stiles finally says. "Just write on my damn cast. There's enough room."

The others wrote things like, "Get better dipshit ~Lydia" and "Click it or ticket ~Danny" or "Feel better. I can't play with two controllers ~Scott." There's also a rendering of a bow and arrow with the name Allison next to it, and paw prints that follow Stiles' leg, clearly drawn by him, that lead to Derek Hale.

Woah. Wait.

"Derek Hale?" Parrish asks, trying to find space to write his name. That's when the name connects with the face he just saw leave the room. "Wasn't he-"

"Nope. False charges." Stiles tries to help by turning his leg, wincing when he does it.

Parrish stops him. "Don't." He finally finds a small spot near the back and writes, "J Parrish."

"There we go," Stiles says. "I knew you were going to come down here. Did you feel anything?"

Parrish shakes his head. "No. I told you. Our bond is completely gone. I can't feel anything." He pauses for a moment, then he realizes everything Deaton has told him. "Stiles, I spoke to Alan Deaton... about us. He said he was the one who helped you when you found out about soul mates. Me, specifically. I- uh, Deaton told me about you not wanting one."

Stiles rubs the back of his neck. "Uh."

"Don't worry. I'm not upset. He told me everything about soul mates and why our connection broke, so I can't be angry with you. And I'm not, by the way."

"You should be. I'm pretty sure I'm the one who messed everything up in the first place."

Parrish laughs. "Actually, you're right about that."

Stiles gapes. "I was joking."

"I'm not. Deaton said that because you hated the idea combined with the fact that you started to like someone else are what broke our soul mate bond."

He blushes, but Parrish doesn't do anything but smile. "Wow. Somehow this doesn't surprise me."

Parrish nods and stands up. "Feel better, Stiles. And I'm sorry for all you had to put up with. I was really clumsy my early years as a cop. Especially with that bear..."

"Yeah what was that about?"

Parrish laughs again. "Nothing really special. I would tell you, but you look so tired I'm pretty sure you're going to fall asleep as soon as I close the door behind me."

"I'll see you around, Parrish."

"I'm sure I will."

Parrish leaves the house, and feels refreshed. But then something else happens. It isn't Stiles. It's something new. A small cut appears on his hand. He smiles.

The universe isn't done with him yet.