Drowning

(Takes place pre 2x11. Stiles stays up all night after the death of Matt to research drowning. He finds comfort where he wouldn't expect it. Prompted by Lola Feist on tumblr! )

Stiles laid on his side staring absentmindedly at the blue of his walls. At 3AM he's never found anything more intriguing in his life. He's come to terms with it already; he's not going to sleep tonight.

And for all he knows, he won't be alive to even fathom sleeping in his bed tomorrow night. The championship game was tomorrow, and he did not like the sinking feeling he had in his stomach. He thinks of Matt. Even though he was a delusional freak that went around using Jackson as his killing slave, it was still a pretty fucked up way for him to die by drowning.

Stiles sat up in his bed and brought his knees to his chest. He sighed heavily. Or maybe, he thought. Matt said those people killed him. Maybe he was already dead.

Cicadas chirped away in the stark night outside his window. Stiles sighed and swung his covers off of him. He sat at his desk and opened his laptop. The glare from the LCD screen burned his retinas as he booted up his computer. He needed something to distract him from the prospect of getting no sleep tonight, and the anxiety of tomorrow nights game.

He decided to play Minecraft. It was a fun game to him, getting to build whatever you want, doing what you have to do to survive. After playing for a while, his mind wandered, and so did his character, right into an ocean.

Instead of pressing spacebar, which would float his character right to the top, he stared at the screen, watching as he floated to the bottom and took damage from not breathing. Suddenly the screen turned red, saying in a large font, "YOU DIED".

To be more specific, he drowned.

Stiles closed the game and opened up his internet browser. He simply typed in Drowning into the search bar and clicked on the Wikipedia entry for it.

Drowning is the process of experiencing respiratory impairment from submersion/immersion in liquid.

Wow. It seems like the online encyclopedia wasn't going to tell him anything he didn't already know. He continued to read…

A conscious victim will hold his or her breath (see Apnea) and will try to access air, often resulting in panic, including rapid body movement.

Stiles found himself intrigued by the article. He continued reading until he got to the citations. People who were close to drowning would hold out until the very last minute, in pain, suppressing the natural reflex to breathe caused by rising carbon dioxide levels in the blood. But in the end, when the reflex can be suppressed no longer, instead of oxygen filling the lungs, you get a rush of water that fills the lungs and spells death for the victim. When that happens, you ultimately wind up unconscious.

He wondered if this was what Matt felt when he got thrown into the pool. Thrashing, wanting nothing more but not to inhale a mouthful of water. Luckily he survived, but this time, when Gerard shoved his head under the water…

Stiles found himself hyperventilating. He quickly shut the screen of his computer and stood up. He felt lightheaded. Maybe water, water would help.

"Please, not now." He whispered to himself. He opened his door quietly; he didn't want to wake up his dad…he's done enough to his father already.

To his surprise, he saw the glare and buzzing from the TV downstairs. His dad was already up. Stiles didn't want his dad to see him like this, he needed to calm down, calm down.

He spent a few minutes leaning against the banister, steadying his breath. He would be fine. He would go downstairs, get his water, drink it, and go back upstairs. He walked down the stairs and into the living room.

Stiles plan failed when he saw what was on the TV.

"Dad…What are you watching?"

The Sheriff didn't take his eyes off of the TV.

"Our vacation to Florida…Me, you, your mother. You were about eight…If you remember."

Stiles just stood there, watching his mother build a sandcastle with him. They used buckets to construct towers and Stiles was trying to make it as tall as possible.

"Mommy, I want to live in a big castle like this! And Scott can come and play and Lydia can come too. And you and Daddy can come too!"

He watched as his mother picked him up and kissed him on the forehead. He heard his dad laugh behind the camera. He held his mother's hand as they walked into the ocean, and the tape cut out.

Stiles hand reached up to wipe the tears rolling down his face. He kept wiping, but they kept coming. But these tears weren't for his mother, or for Scott, or for Lydia, or for his Dad.

These tears were for everything.

He found himself sobbing. His dad stood up and walked over to him. "Stiles?" Stiles didn't respond, so the sheriff hugged him. Stiles hated this feeling. He was always being protected. But the tears wouldn't stop.

Sheriff Stilinski hugged his only son tighter. He knew something was wrong with him. He hasn't seen Stiles break down like this in years. The only other time he was like this…

When his mother died.

"Sit on the couch, Stiles."

Stiles complied. He sniffed and wiped his face, red hot from embarrassment.

"I'm fine Dad, can I just go back to sl-,"

"No, you can't. You've got a restraining order placed against you, you've been sneaking around at night, you basically have detention every other day, I've caught you at so many crime scenes that I've lost count…There is something going on. I want you to tell me. Please tell me, Stiles."

Stiles grabbed a tissue from the coffee table next to him. He turned his head to blow his nose. He didn't turn back to look at his father. He couldn't. He was so ridden with guilt, there was no getting around it, it was his fault.

"Dad, it's nothing. I swear, it's nothing." Stiles choked the words out as best as he could. The lies again.

"No, it's not nothing, Stiles. I'm not stupid for crying out loud. You do know what I do for a living, I have a pretty good sense when people are lying, especially my son. Look at me, please Stiles." Stiles shook his head. He couldn't, he just couldn't.

"Please," his dad pleaded. "Please, Stiles."

Stiles turned his head to look at his father, blue glare from the TV illuminating his face.

"If I told you, that when the time is right, I promise I'll tell you everything. But I can't now. So can you please trust me on that?" Stiles pleaded. He looked at his father and remembered when Matt pistol whipped him. Stiles was so helpless, weak. There was nothing he could do. He couldn't get his father involved any more than he already was. The less he knew the better.

The sheriff nodded. "Whatever this is…You'll get through it. Trust me."

For a few moments they sat there, staring at the blue of the television screen.

"Dad?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah?"

"Can…Can we watch the video again?" Stiles asked weakly

The Sheriff grabbed the remote and pressed play, and there it was again, Stiles mother. Stiles put his head in his father's lap, like he used to do when he was a kid, as they sat and remembered all the things that were, and feared that of which was yet to come.