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- When Stiles met Scott
Melissa was finishing up her shift at the front desk, when she noticed Scott was missing. The babysitter had dropped him off half an hour ago, when the hours the McCall’s could afford ran out. Rafe was still in Sacramento, and Melissa’s boss didn’t mind Scott too much as long as the boy stayed out of trouble and didn’t disturb the patients or visitors.
Normally, Scott was a very well-behaved boy, if a bit shy and awkward. His asthma kept him from connecting with the boys in his class, and he liked books about animals more than playing race car in the mud. Usually, he just sat in the waiting area next to the front desk with one of his animal books, waiting for Melissa to finish up, so they could go home.
Today, he was missing.
Damn it.
She shot a short apology in Nancy’s direction, her friend and colleague nodding in understanding, before leaving the front desk behind in search of her son. Nancy had two kids of her own; she could definitely relate to Melissa’s panic. Melissa did her best to appear focused, but not frightened – it was important not to accidentally cause a commotion in the middle of a busy hospital.
She found Scott rather quickly, her boy somehow ending up in the long-term care unit. Well, she heard him before she saw him.
“Oh, and why are you here?”
“Uh… because- because of my mom.”
It was another kid’s voice that answered Scott’s curious inquiry. Melissa was still a few steps away from the door of the waiting area, but the long-term care unit was silent, where the reception was loud and busy.
“Does she work here too? My mom works here. She’s a nurse. She’s like… really cool.”
“Um, no… um… my mom’s here to see the doctor. But- But she is really cool too! She can dance really well! And… and she once built a paper plane that stayed in the air for twenty seconds!”
Melissa recognized the voice just as she rounded the corner. It was the Stilinski boy. Mischief, his mom called him. Melissa couldn’t pronounce his real name to save her life. Claudia Stilinski and she had been in the same year in High School, Rafael and Noah developing a weird rivalry over the years, as the both of them went into law enforcement. They weren’t friends, exactly, but it was hard not to care for Claudia’s fate, considering how tragic it was.
“Wow, that’s like… really long! So cool! You have to show me sometime!” Scott hadn’t seen her yet, and his obvious joy over Mischief’s mom being able to fold paper planes made it impossible for the typical sadness, that was a natural reaction to any acknowledgement of Claudia’s sickness, to creep into the room.
Melissa watched as Mischief, the boy small for his age and covered in moles, scrutinized her son, only to stick out one of his small hands as if he was waiting for a handshake to seal an unspoken deal. Instinctively, Scott took Mischief’s offered hand.
“I will show you. I also have a collection of stuffed animals. And a laser sword. Do you like Star Wars?”
“I love it.”
Melissa was careful to stifle her laughter, she didn’t want to disturb the boys – Scott was obviously lying, his face beet-red as he nodded along with whatever Mischief said. The two times Rafe had tried to show Scott the movies, their boy had been asleep before the end of the introduction.
“Good. We can rewatch them at my house then. I’m sure mom and dad will be happy to meet you.”
Melissa would call the Stilinskis once she got home, just to make sure their son didn’t make any promises he couldn’t keep. And yet… Scott was smiling, and so was Mischief, the waiting room a lot less gray than usual.
Silently, Melissa turned around to walk back to the front desk. She had another twenty minutes left of her shift, and now she knew that Scott was in good hands. And so was Mischief. Some part of her was sure that she had just witnessed the beginning of something great.
- Roxy & Me
Jonathan had heard the entire bloody story in the changing room, while he was getting ready for his night shift. Melissa McCall’s son had been attacked by a feral dog downtown. The family pet – Roxy was her name, if Jonathan remembered Scott’s excited rambling correctly – had defended the boy, suffering fatal injuries in the process. And as if that was not enough – Jonathan liked Scott and he knew the boy absolutely adored the pet – the attack triggered an asthma attack so severe the doctors hadn’t been sure if Scott would recover fully not even three hours ago.
Jonathan didn’t have that much contact with Melissa, the woman usually working in the ER and OT. They only ever met because of Scott’s severe asthma – Jonathan was a pediatric nurse and he had spent many evenings and nights watching over Scott while his mom worked three units away in the same hospital.
Judging by all the things he had heard, Scott would be in his care tonight. Nancy had apparently taken Melissa down to the cafeteria, the mother so distraught, she simply needed a break. Jonathan had been dating his boyfriend for fourteen years now, so he couldn’t imagine what it had to be like for the other nurse. She’d gotten divorced only last year, the dog her attempt to make her son feel less alone. If Scott’s excited stories were anything to go by, it had worked.
And now Roxy was dead, and Scott was in the hospital.
Jonathan was just finishing up his first check-in on all the young patients he’d care for tonight, when he heard an excited voice carry out of the last room and into the hallway.
“And then- and then, the death star exploded! It freaking exploded, Scotty! It was sooo cool! You really have to watch the movie with me – it’s a masterpiece, my dad said so. And- and there are spaceships! That’s ships that fly, but through SPACE! Do you understand how amazing that is? When I grow up, I’m gonna be a spaceship pilot.”
It was Scott McCall’s room, but it wasn’t Scott McCall’s voice. Slowly, Jonathan walked closer, until he could peek into the room. Scott was laying in the hospital bed, the oxygen mask still firmly on his face. The headboard was raised, to make it easier for the boy to breathe – he looked so small, and yet, he wasn’t crying as Jonathan had feared. No, Scott was smiling, be it tired and small and frail.
That was probably due to the kid Jonathan had heard talking earlier. A young boy sat next to Scott’s bed, his left leg bouncing, his hands moving faster than Jonathan could follow. He was still talking, now about some research he had found on aliens being real, unaware that Jonathan stood in the doorway behind him.
“And I checked this website, and I promise you, it’s super real and serious. A UFO crash landed in Roswell. Do you know where Roswell is, Scotty? New Mexico. That’s not that far away from here. We could totally go and check it out.”
“I know where Roswell is, Stiles.”
Scott’s voice was so faint, Jonathan almost didn’t hear it, but this Stiles-kid definitely did.
“Oh, sorry for helping you out! It’s just last week, you didn’t know the Nile was a river in Egypt and I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page, you know.”
Jonathan couldn’t see Stiles’ face, but he could see the echo of a grin on Scott’s. They were good for each other, Jonathan could see that much. He knocked on the open door to get their attention. He didn’t want to accidentally startle them. Both boys turned to look at him, Scott recognizing him, Stiles scowling at the interruption.
“Evening, Scott, Scott’s friend. I’m just here to tell you that I’m the one taking care of you tonight. Oh, and as much as it sucks… but visiting hours are over.”
Surprisingly enough, Stiles didn’t oppose Jonathan’s words. Instead, the boy shrugged, before standing up, his hand reaching for Scott’s one last time. It was rather sweet, really. Jonathan watched as Scott clung to Stiles, and he watched as Stiles turned around to leave.
“My dad’s probably already waiting for me, so… bye, Scott. And get better soon. School won’t be the same without you.”
“Bye, Stiles. And tell your dad thank you.”
“I will.”
With that, Stiles left. Jonathan turned back towards Scott. There were tears swimming in his big brown eyes, so Jonathan offered a smile and the comfort of his words:
“That’s a good friend you’ve got there, Scott.”
“He’s the very, very best.”
And Jonathan could see that.
- Sleepless in Beacon Hills
Susan tried not to grin as she sorted through the admission files of the ER. It was hard not to show her amusement, considering she was forced to listen to two fourteen-year-old boys rile each other up.
“No, Scott, I told you! If you’d kept holding onto my leg, I wouldn’t have fallen down. This is your fault, really.”
“I couldn’t have held onto your leg! I needed both of my arms to keep myself from falling! Why should this be my fault?”
“Because it was your idea?”
“It was your idea, Stiles. You literally broke into my room, waited for me to come home from detention, and said ‘Hey, Scott, we should climb onto the gym roof to watch the cheerleaders warm up’. It wasn’t even cheerleading practice today!”
Scott McCall sounded exasperated and a bit tired, but Susan wasn’t worried. Over the years, the two teenagers currently sitting in the waiting area of the ER had become a fixture of weekends and late nights. Sometimes it was simply because Melissa wanted to keep an eye on them, and other times it was like today – some teenage shenanigan that had ended with one – or both – of them needing medical attention.
Judging by their admission protocol, Stiles had most likely broken his left wrist, while Scott’s foot had turned a disconcerting shade of blue. Normally, a doctor would already be treating them, but there’d been a big car crash down the interstate, and most nurses and doctors were busy giving emergency care or operating in one of the three OTs Beacon Hills Hospital had. Melissa was in one of them, currently assisting Dr. Geyer. She didn’t even know the two troublemakers were here, yet.
Sheriff Stilinski had simply dropped them off, his tired eyes asking her if they’d be alright without him here to watch over them. Susan had promised him that she would make sure the boys wouldn’t get in any more trouble while he was busy cleaning up the interstate. So far, so good.
“That means nothing.”
“Stiles.”
“Okay, so maybe I heard a rumor that Lydia Martin would teach her followers some cheerleading tricks today. And maybe I wanted to see her specifically doing a flip while being utterly brilliant. And maybe I thought climbing up on the roof would be the easiest way to see that happening.”
“Didn’t Lydia quit cheerleading last semester?”
“Yeah, she said she wanted to focus on finishing middle school with some time on her hands. But- that doesn’t-“
Susan couldn’t see them, but she didn’t doubt the look of exasperated outrage on Stiles’ face. The boy had seriously calmed down, ever since he’d gotten his ADHD diagnosis (and it had only taken Nancy, Susan, Melissa, and George three years to convince the Sheriff to take his son to a psychiatrist to get a diagnosis), but he was still one of the liveliest people Susan had ever met. She found it endearing, though she was sure his teachers hated him.
“Stiles… I think someone was playing a prank on you.”
Scott said it in a voice that implied he hadn’t just also fallen off a roof to spy on some sporty girls. Susan really had to hide her laughter behind a cough – they were both such teenage boys, Susan was rather glad she decided not to have kids.
“Damn! Jackson! It has to be him, he’s such a f-“
“Stiles? Scott? What are you doing here?”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, Melissa.”
Susan dared to look up from the mountain of papers in front of her, only to see Melissa, tired and in dirty scrubs, stand in front of the boys, hands in her hips. The operation she helped with must have finished without Susan being notified. Both boys stared up at her, sheepish grins on their dirt-streaked faces. How they could still smile, with their arms and legs hurting… teenagers, walking natural disasters.
“And?” Melissa really had the expectant mother voice down.
“So, you see, mom–“
“It was all Scott’s fault, I promise–“
Scott and Stiles started talking at the same time, and Susan returned to her work. Melissa had this covered. They were her boys, after all.
- Irreplaceable You
When you started working at a hospital, you realized quickly that there would be good days and bad days. Days where you can save someone’s life, and you walk out of the ER or the patient’s room with a smile on your face. And days where you had to tell a family that sadly there was nothing you could do anymore to help their loved one.
It was always harder when it was someone you knew.
The entire hospital staff had watched as Scott and Stiles grew up. The nurses and doctors in the long-term care unit had sat next to Stiles as he cried himself to sleep in the waiting room, hoping to offer some silent comfort. The pediatric nurses had all come to love Scott as he visited them again and again over the years because of his asthma. The ER nurses had a betting pool on what the next injury would be Stiles and Scott would have to be admitted for.
Their stories, while sometimes sad or tragic or unfair, were always stories the staff liked to share with each other because they were full of hope. It was hard not to like the two energetic teenagers and their borderline idiotic ideas.
As Crystal readied the MRI for Stiles’ upcoming scan, she couldn’t help but think that this story wouldn’t be one of the happy ones. That this day wouldn’t be one of her good ones. Melissa and her full of shit ex-husband had brought Stiles in last night. Crystal didn’t work in the ER, but she’d talked to Susan, and the ER nurse told her about the scared and frightened look in Stiles’ eyes as they readied an examination room for him.
She didn’t have to see it for herself, to imagine just how scared Stiles must have been. They’d gotten a room for him, in one of the short-term wards, and judging by the rumor mill of Beacon Hills Memorial, Scott and some of their friends hadn’t left the waiting area for the entire night. Apparently, Melissa had been forced to blackmail them, so they’d go to school. Knowing Scott, Crystal couldn’t imagine that’d been easy.
Scott and Stiles were inseparable – it was one of the facts of the universe, just like the coffee machine in the second-story break room was always broken, and Dr. Ferguson was prone to farting during a surgery.
Stiles’ MRI was scheduled for the next ten minutes, and Crystal knew, if she dared to peek outside the room, she would see Scott and Stiles (and their parents), all of them pale in the face of what this could mean. Stiles’ medical family history was well-known – Beacon Hills wasn’t big enough for a story like Claudia’s not to be common knowledge.
Apparently, the boy had sleepwalked out into the woods during the coldest night of the year in nothing but his PJs. It was a wonder that they had found him at all, even though Melissa had told Susan, who told Jonathan, that Stiles had been caught up in a hallucination when they pulled him out of the coyote den.
Soon enough – almost too soon, if you’d asked Crystal – the door to the MRI room opened. Dr. Johnson led the group inside, his face just as grim as Crystal felt. She hated days like these, when every good thing couldn’t conquer the horror of the bad.
Crystal nodded at Melissa and the Sheriff, Noah a shell of the man he’d been just two days ago. The adults listened to Dr. Johnson as he explained something all of them knew. Melissa, because she was an experienced nurse, and the Sheriff, because this wasn’t the first time he was dealing with this.
The boys stood a bit farther back, and Crystal watched them, instead of focusing on the grief hidden in the slump of Noah’s shoulders. Stiles and Scott were whispering, Scott staring at his friend as if he’d hung the moon. It would be sweet, really, if Stiles didn’t have to fear the results of this MRI with his life.
“If you have it… we’ll do something,” Scott suddenly said, and then they were hugging.
Crystal looked at them, could feel the other adults do the same, and the only word she could describe the hug with, was desperate. Scott and Stiles clung to each other like two people afraid to drown. It was heartbreaking. These teenagers loved each other. No matter what the MRI showed today, Crystal knew Stiles wouldn’t just have his dad to count on – he would also have Scott.
It felt cruel to separate the two of them, and yet it had to be done. Some of the desperate hope bled from Scott’s eyes as he left the room, a defeated air of fear growing around the teenager now that his friend was no longer in his sight.
Crystal understood why. It was one thing to give Stiles strength – and it was another thing entirely to keep holding onto that strength once you no longer had to pretend.
Judging by the sad tilt of Dr. Johnson’s lips, and the tears running down the Sheriff’s face, the shocked horror in Melissa’s eyes… Scott had simply realized what the most likely result would be.
Crystal wanted to leave as well – but she couldn’t. She owed it to the people in this room to be there for them, once it was time to tell Stiles. Once it was time to speak the bad news into existence.
- Eternal Sunshine of the Monstrous Mind
Dr. Amanda Steinfeld hadn’t worked at Beacon Hills Memorial for long. The hospital had gone through a horrific staff shortage following a horrible massacre, and Amanda had looked for a new job far away from her jealous ex in Seattle.
She liked it here, if one ignored the high crime rates, and she enjoyed the atmosphere between the nurses and doctors at the hospital. Quickly into her new job, she’d realized that there were some Beacon Hills legends, when it came to this hospital and its patients. Melissa McCall, one of the ER nurses, for example, had a son the entire hospital adored. Because of his bad health and accident-prone nature, he’d apparently been a frequent visitor in his youth.
There was also the story of an old lady, who once robbed the morgue, but Amanda mostly focused on the cute stories, like how one boy had been misdiagnosed with some form of dementia, only for them to later realize that the MRI machine had been malfunctioning. The fewest stories ended as wholesome as this one.
Maybe that was why she was surprised when her elevator opened to the ICU only to be greeted not by the busy hustle of working nurses and doctors, but by two teenagers fighting in the middle of the hallway. No, her first assessment had been wrong – one of the teenagers was laying on the floor, as the other one hit him again and again.
It wasn’t a fight; this was a beating.
Why wasn’t anyone doing anything-? But before she could react, Melissa McCall and Dr. Geyer came running out of one of the patient’s rooms, pulling the teenagers apart. With some of the tension gone, Amanda got the chance to take another look at the involved parties. Was that Scott McCall, Melissa’s son? And that other kid… he looked vaguely familiar too.
“What the hell is happening?” she asked, even though everyone seemed happy enough to ignore her.
The boy Melissa and Dr. Geyer had pulled off Scott freed himself, muttering “okay, okay, okay” under his breath. Only now did Amanda notice just what room all of them had stormed out of: the room of Mr. Stilinski, the town sheriff.
Mr. Stilinski, who had a son.
“Can someone please explain to me what happened?” she asked again, just as Scott slowly stood up from where he’d lain. His movements were cautious and stiff, as if he was hurt, but his eyes told her that he wouldn’t appreciate her asking after his health.
“Nothing. A misunderstanding. It’s… It’s alright now.”
She would have understood, if it’d been the other boy who tried to deny the assault happening, but Scott was the one who shook his head in denial. Amanda glanced at Melissa McCall, expecting her to be in full Mama Bear mode, but instead the woman just looked incredibly sad. Her gaze wandered between Scott and the Stilinski boy, as if she couldn’t choose which to hug and which to yell at.
Amanda had no idea what the hell was happening anymore.
“Dr. Geyer, maybe you can shed some light on the situation?”
If the teenagers (and their moms) didn’t want to answer her, Amanda was not above talking to the only other adult in the room. Dr. Geyer looked at every involved individual in the hallway, before addressing her:
“Dr. Steinfeld, last night Mr. Stilinski’s condition worsened. We don’t know why, but the infection is spreading, and the antibiotics won’t work. If he continues deteriorating like this… his condition might be fatal.”
It didn’t explain the fighting teenagers, but it explained the pure panicked grief in the face of Stilinski’s boy. It explained why Scott hadn’t fought back. It explained why Melissa looked as if she wanted to hug them both.
Amanda sighed.
“Okay. I want all of you – except Dr. Geyer, of course – to get out of the ICU. I am sure the ER could use you, nurse McCall, and teenagers are not necessary for important medical procedures. I will inform you personally the moment something changes… but for now, leave and go get a coffee.”
Her words weren’t harsh, but they weren’t nice, either. In the space between life and death, there was no room for niceties. Everyone looked at her, and for a moment Amanda feared she might have to get loud, but then Melissa began to move.
She pushed the Stilinski kid in the direction of Scott, and Amanda could see something happen between the two of them. There was no “sorry”, no “it’s alright”, but there was something happening – they must be friends, Amanda realized. Best friends.
She knew people like them, partners in crime, friends for life. They might be fighting, but Amanda was sure the two of them would work it out. Not that she had that much time to focus on them – she had lives to save.
There were things more important than the ego of teenagers.
(but she still wished them the best)
+ 1. An American Werewolf in the Hospital
Mr. Stilinski was the last patient on her check-up route through the trauma patient surgery ward. It was late afternoon, visiting hours over in twenty minutes, and most of the patients were asleep or resting after their family and friends had finally left.
It was the favorite check-up of Nadja’s shift, the whole ward calm in a way it usually wasn’t. Mr. Stilinski had a separate room, the government paying for it, considering Mr. Stilinski was an FBI agent, who’d gotten hurt on the job. He’d only gotten the surgery to save his left shoulder joint two days ago, and until he started physical therapy tomorrow, there was no way to tell if he would regain full use of his arm.
Mr. Stilinski was always the last stop on her route before she returned to the nurses’ station to sort through new admissions and prepare the medications for every patient. He was usually quite charming, had been so before his surgery and the day after, when he’d still been a bit loopy. He was definitely not the worst patient Nadja had ever had, and she looked forward to hearing another fantastical story about his job with the FBI.
That was, until she stopped in front of his room, only to hear Mr. Stilinski’s voice exclaim, “I’d be a terrible werewolf!”.
A voice Nadja recognized as Scott McCall, the veterinarian working under Dr. Deaton, answered:
“You could have died. You got shot in the shoulder, you had to be reanimated twice… Stiles, if you got the bite, you wouldn’t be in danger anymore. You’d… your dad, Lydia, and I… we wouldn’t have to worry about you so much, when you’re out there doing your job.”
“Don’t use my humanity against me, Scott.”
Mr. Stilinski’s tone of voice was dangerously low, and even if Nadja had no idea what the hell was happening in there, or what the fuck they were talking about, she knew she wouldn’t want to cross Mr. Stilinski when he sounded like that.
“I’m not- that’s not-“
“It is. That’s exactly what you’re doing. Yes, I am human, Scott. Yes, that means if I get hurt, it sucks a lot more than when you get shot… but don’t question my judgement or my autonomy because of that. I can take care of myself.”
“If I turned you, your shoulder would heal. You would never get your mom’s illness. I would never have to see you lie in a hospital bed again.”
“Or I could die.”
The two men fell silent, and Nadja toyed with the idea of opening the door now, so she could pretend she had heard nothing. Maybe they were talking about a fantasy MMORPG? Did people still play these? Or maybe they were really into larping?
Before she could decide on her next step of action, Mr. Stilinski continued to speak:
“Come on, Scott. You know- We know the bite doesn’t cure psychological or neurological differences. It doesn’t cure trauma and it doesn’t ‘cure’ ADHD. Do you really want to give me claws and immeasurable anger, but no way to medicate myself? It took Liam almost three years to learn how to cope with IED and lycanthropy at the same time. Admit it, Scott… I’d be a terrible werewolf.”
Another beat of silence, and then…
“I’m just so sick of seeing you hurt, Stiles. I love you so much, and I need you… whenever I get a phone call, I’m afraid it’s gonna be Lydia or your dad, telling me that you died. I’m just… I’m so scared of losing you.”
“I love you, too, man. But let me tell you something… do you know who taught me not to let fear control me? That was you, Scott. I learned that from you. It’s gonna be alright.”
They were both crying now, Nadja could hear that much. Werewolves might not be real, but whatever those two shared, definitely was. Maybe she didn’t have to personally check in with Mr. Stilinski today. She would do that once she brought him his medicine.
She knew he wasn’t alone after all. She knew he had someone with him.
Nadja continued on.