I know it has been ages since my last upload... forgive me! How is everyone finding season 4? IMO it has been reallllly good so far! I'm excited to see what happens. Let me know what your favourite bits of Season 4 have been in the comments below. Also, let me know what you think of the chapter and any advice/criticism you have for me.

****TW***** I also want to say there is a trigger warning about suicide in this chapter. it isn't anything major, but it does mention suicide in passing and I worry that this may affect some people reading. Please, if you ever feel like you can't continue with life... speak to someone. Speak to a friend/family member/teacher/blogger/author/person on the internet. Anyone. If you ever need to speak about anything and no one else is willing to listen, then I will listen to you.

"I can't believe you would do something that stupid. It's as if you don't even want to get better! You have to be more careful, Stiles!"

Stiles could take being shouted at by a doctor, but not by his dad. His dad's voice cracked as he tried not to show how upset he was. Stiles looked from his dad to Dr Hale to Scott, all of them giving him the same stern glare. He was hoping for a sign of weakness from one of them, perhaps a small smile or nod to show that they didn't think he had a death wish. He didn't take the tablets to die, he took the tablets to prove he wouldn't die.

And he didn't.

Stiles woke up with a sore head, empty stomach and a group of angry people surrounding him. Scott was probably the most angry. He felt that it was his duty as Stiles' best friend to watch out for him; Scott wanted to make sure that Stiles was happy and normal, but Stiles was far from that in his opinion. Best friends look out for their friends - that's why they're called your 'best' friend. Not just a regular, mundane friend. Scott genuinely cared about Stiles, he considered Stiles as his brother.

But Stiles was alive. He was miraculously alive, because he had definitely taken enough tablets to die. Yet, here he was, alive and kicking. No tablets or machines could have detected the tablets in his system and nothing could have been done.

Stiles knew that the only person who would enter the room after he took the tablets was Dr Hale. It was confirmed when his dad muttered in a low voice that he was "ever so grateful for finding him before anything serious happened", and Stiles smirked to himself. However, the smirk wasn't missed by either of his three interrogators.

"I don't know what you're smirking about. Do you know how lucky you are to be alive? I thought I told you to never ever refuse to let the doctors give you medicine, or give you an IV when you need it. Do you know what happens when you pull out an IV?" his dad said furiously.

Stiles looked at the IV in his hand and back to his dad. Dr Hale was staring at him, his eyes focusing on Stiles'.

"I- What?"

"Your IV. You pulled it out. You do know that they are connected to a vein, right?" said the Sheriff.

"Of course I do. That's why I'm not going to pull it out…" Stiles said.

His dad gave an exasperated sigh. "Well, that's not going to do you any good now. Couldn't you have decided that before?"

"I have no idea-" Stiles was cut short by Dr Hale, who suddenly needed to cough. Scott patted the doctor on the back heavily before both of them turned their attention back to Stiles. Dr Hale refocused his gaze on Stiles, his eyes almost commanding him to comply.

"I mean, I have no idea why I would do that…" Stiles amended, "Dad, you know you don't have to worry about me doing that ever again. I'm an idiot. I'm sorry,"

It was Dr Hale's turn to smirk, and Stiles couldn't help feeling that there was more to this than he initially thought. Stiles turned to look at Scott, whose expression was mellowing by the second.

"Oh, Stiles, you are an idiot. I thought you were trying to die. I thought it was my fault. I thought it was because of Lydia, too. I just… didn't know why you would do that. You seemed fine," said Scott.

"You're lucky that Dr Hale was just coming into your room to check on you, otherwise something really serious could have happened. You were only unconscious for a few minutes, but it could have been worse."

"Hmm, yes. I do know that, Dad."

The Sheriff looked at his son and sighed softly. To him, this was another unnecessary thing on the list of unnecessary things. Stiles liked to be complicated. He blamed it on the ADHD, the fact that his brain was incapable of processing the hundreds of thoughts that swirled through it everyday.

Dr Hale coughed again, this time more pointedly, and addressed the Sheriff. "I think that it would be a good idea for me to have a small chat with Stiles. If you don't mind, Sheriff. I also need to conduct some blood tests. If you and Scott want to wait outside…?"

Scott smiled and left, along with the Sheriff who gave Stiles a look that said 'be good' and squeezed his leg. When they left, Stiles let out a sigh of relief and immediately focused his attention on the doctor, who had positioned himself in the visitor's chair.

"Ripped out my IV, really?" his tone was almost sarcastic.

"Would you rather I told them the truth: that you tried to kill yourself?" Dr Hale quipped back immediately.

Stiles raised his eyebrows and said nothing.

"That's what I thought. Except you didn't try to kill yourself, did you?"

Stiles didn't know what to say. He could tell him the truth, that he wanted to prove that something was going on, but maybe it wouldn't be a smart decision to tell the person you are trying to figure out that you are trying to figure them out.

"I-" Stiles began, "I, er, no. Well, maybe," he finished.

Dr Hale looked down as his hands as he spoke. "I'm a doctor. I know when someone shows signs of suicide or depression. You didn't show any of those signs. The only signs you showed were stupidity, and also curiosity."

"But the way you told my dad, you still made it look like I had tried to kill myself," Stiles persisted.

"No it didn't. It looked like you were being a stubborn teenager… and you must admit that you were acting like one. There's no point getting your dad upset because you decided to take a few tablets. Which, by the way, weren't tablets."

Stiles looked at the doctor and then to the empty strip on the table. "You mean… you-you."

Dr Hale lifted the empty strip and turned it over. To Stiles' shock they were blank. No package name, no brand. Just plain white.

"You see, Stiles, when I first came here I wasn't sure what to expect. You know what I mean, don't you? People were dying pretty regularly, and I had enough on my plate without worrying about all those extra deaths from humans who had attempted suicide, but not succeeded. The relapsers. There's only so much that therapy and counselling can do before someone relapses again. It's human instinct. Humans are such addictive creatures."

Stiles couldn't help noticing how Dr Hale referred to his patients as 'humans', rather than 'people', but he didn't get a chance to question him about it as the doctor was continuing.

"So I thought that if I gave them the chance to relapse, that they would see their mistake and change. Do you know that of the people who had attempted suicide by jumping off a bridge and survived, every single one of them had said that all of their problems seemed fixable? Obviously I couldn't throw people off a bridge," he laughed and continued, "I don't think that many would survive. But that isn't my point, Stiles. My point is that I knew that people would relapse… or try to look for a way out. So Dr Reyes and I thought that we could give every patient being treated for attempted suicide a package of these tablets in their room. And then we could work from there."

Stiles was impressed. Dr Hale really did care about his patients, despite the reservations he may have about the doctor and his involvement with Chris Argent. Maybe he did mean what he said about trying to save lives.

"But that doesn't explain the fact the tablets did actually knock me out? Or was that some sort of trick?" Stiles asked.

"Sort of. Erica and I came up with a concoction of herbs and spices that would act as a sedative if given in large doses. Something perfectly safe for human consumption if the inevitable did occur."

"Impressive. So you thought I was going to kill myself?" Stiles enquired.

"No. Not really. We, uh, decided to put them in all rooms after there were a few incidents. We don't always know everything about our patients. Especially ones who aren't exactly helpful. It's hard to maintain control in a job like this. I have to do what I can," said Dr Hale.

"So you like to know everything; you like to be in control?" asked Stiles.

"I don't mind it. It certainly helps," Dr Hale replied impassively. His tone implying that he didn't like where the conversation was headed.

Luckily for him - and rather unluckily for Stiles - their conversation was interrupted by Erica, who had a patient vomiting blood rather violently.

"I am sorry, Derek, but I really need your help. It's very busy out there and everyone else has been contracted a patient," she said sweetly.

"Can't you tell I'm busy here, Erica?" Dr Hale replied rather coldly, "I'll be with you in a minute."

Erica pouted and closed the door behind her swiftly. Dr Hale switched his attention to Stiles instantaneously and addressed the younger man.

"I told your dad when you were out that you would be fit for discharge, despite your current state of unconsciousness at the time,"

"But I-" Stiles interjected.

"You and I both know that nothing is wrong with you. Now, I know that you heard me talk to Chris Argent the night you arrived. I know that you have been walking around the hospital. I know about your little visit to the morgue. I know that you've been asking Erica all sorts of questions. I'm not stupid. If I wanted to, I could have stopped you doing all those things: I could have locked you in here, I could have made another nurse look after you. Perhaps Melissa McCall, Scott's mother? I could have done all sorts of things to you. But I didn't." Dr Hale's voice immediately became threatening.

Stiles' eyes widened as he took in everything the doctor was telling him: Dr Hale would always be one step ahead, and Stiles had to know that.

"Do you understand what I'm telling you? This is my hospital… and I don't appreciate seventeen year old boys trying to act like they're on some forensic crime television show. Leave the investigations for your father, Stiles, because you are too obvious in your intentions."

Dr Hale gave Stiles one final glance before getting out of the chair and leaving the room. Stiles took a few gulps and grabbed his head with his hands in frustration. Dr Hale was serious in his speech: Stiles had been caught interfering. Stiles was certain of that. No one would get annoyed about what he'd done. No one would even know about it - that was the weird thing.

He'd been rumbled. Crap.