Chapter 1: Reunion
Summary:
Mitch goes to sleep, once again, with a heavy heart. Only this time, he wakes up in a strange room filled with all the people he thought he’d lost, and they are being forced to watch… him?
Notes:
i don't have a beta reader, so if this has multiple plot holes please let me know and i'll try to fix it! the plot will make more sense as the characters watch the show, but until then, please bare with me <3
the main thing you need to know is that stiles, joel, caleb, thomas and mitch are the same person and he has been sent to these universes via wckd
feel free to ask any questions you may have and also tell me your opinions on whether or not i should go through with adding deepwater horizon to this story! more info at end notes <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The faded faces of those from his past still show up in his dreams. They haunt him like ghosts, never allowing him to live a torment-free day. At night, when they inevitably show up, he must face them again. Sometimes they’ll be thanking him - with kind, soft voices - for releasing them from the torture that their life was. Other times, they’ll be screaming at him until their throats don’t allow it anymore, demanding why? Why did he let them die?
But no matter what they show up doing, the darkness around his heart grows thicker, defending itself before his guilt swallows it whole. Everyday the remorse fights to get in, and everyday the shadows around his soul harden in an attempt to keep it out. The sinfulness that surrounds him encourages the negative emotions that dominate him, like anger and his taste for vengeance. He can’t let any more undeserving people die because he couldn’t save them.
He has grown tired of fighting for a peaceful mind, so he welcomes the mindset that he has pushed away for so long. He no longer feels regret when taking the life of someone guilty because that is exactly what they are; guilty. Of murder of the innocent, or those who think only for what they want and stop at nothing to get it, or those who have done much worse than even himself. He has made it his job to stop them, because if he doesn’t then they’ll continue their journey with no consequences. And he can’t let what happened to him happen to anyone else.
Still, he is human, and the more justice he serves, the more ghosts show up at night, taunting him with their evil grins. But if he suffers, then there is less pain for those who do not deserve it, so he deals with it. Sure, he wakes up in a cold sweat, heart beating at a mile a minute as he struggles to provide the oxygen his lungs crave, but he will take it if it protects the innocent.
So as Mitch rests on the bed in the room he has rented, he prepares himself for the horrors that will find him when he sleeps.
He is prone to thinking too much before bed, when he is by himself, alone with his mind. He thinks of the things he has been warned not to; things that ‘make it personal’. He relishes in the few moments of peace as his mind wanders to his past, of all those he left behind. It is a nice reminder that there are people who love him out there, albeit worlds away.
He thinks of his first universe, the one he was born and raised in. Mieczyslaw Stilinski was his name there, although he went by ‘Stiles’ because nobody could pronounce his name properly – not even himself until his early teenage years. He has kept a piece of himself from that time, as the name he chose for himself, Mitch, comes from the start of Mieczyslaw. He thinks of his father, Noah Stilinski, who he left all alone with no family, who he misses dearly. He thinks of his first best friend, Scott McCall, who acted like the loyalist of dogs, who kept his morals straight when they were challenged.
He doesn’t think about the not-so-nice memories from that time in his life, though. They’ll come to him soon enough when he falls asleep.
He thinks of the second universe he woke up in, where the name given to him was ‘Joel Dawson’, and all cold-blooded animals were mutated and massive, as crazy as that sounded. He thinks of the people in his bunker who became his family when he couldn’t remember his own. He thinks of his dog, Boy, who was smarter than any animal should be. He thinks of the old man and little girl, Clyde and Minnow, who helped him stay alive while he hunted for something – he didn’t know what, he had just felt an extreme urge to get to it.
He thinks of the world he had woken up in, where his name was ‘Caleb Holloway’, the universe he was placed in solely for the sake of a few trials for more data on him and his brain activity. The universe where he had to push through fire in order to escape death Herself. He hadn’t gotten close to anyone while working at Deepwater Horizon, but every night, the shadows of his co-workers’ faces taunt him. He thinks of the people who died, the people he couldn’t save. Again.
But he tears his mind from those times, only lingering there to pay respect to those lost, and focuses on the next life he was forced to live.
The fourth universe he was taken to, the universe where WCKD was situated.
The company that ruined his life.
WCKD was an organisation originally created to study the multiverse and how to travel through it. They had the capabilities to travel to other universes, but needed a test subject, one strong enough to tolerate the troubles in said universes. He had just happened to catch their interest with his endurance when the nogitsune had taken control of him. They had blocked his memories from every universe he went to because even the strongest people have a breaking point. Like what they were doing wasn’t sick enough already.
WCKD had brought him back to their universe because of an outbreak of a virus and they were pulling at their straws to find a cure. They chose to use him after 2 years – when they were getting desperate. And since he had progressed so much when travelling universes, they thought he would have the most promising results. A stupid mistake on their part, because he and his friends escaped, and he wasn’t forced into another universe again.
Until he came back to save his friend and was able to access his memories again due to the girl who got his friend taken in the first place, then killed the man who did this to him and sent himself to the last universe he’d ever visit, this time with all his memories, the one he currently resides in.
He still isn’t sure if that was a mistake or not.
But more importantly, he thinks of said friends. He thinks of Newt who was always there to snap him out of his thoughts when he was spiralling, who risked it all for his friend. He thinks of Minho who could always cheer him up with a snarky remark, who was put through months of torture but still pulled through. He thinks of Frypan, who made amazing dishes and saved them countless times throughout their journey. He thinks of Brenda and Jorge, who slowly joined their make-shift family, who were a different level of badass that he didn’t even know existed.
It lightens the darkness around his heart to a dull grey before he sleeps, and when he finally drifts off, and when the haunted memories come back, it will darken again, getting impossibly harder to ignore by the next day.
But it’s not the next day yet, so as he drifts off to sleep, he sighs through his aching heart, longing to go home to everyone he has ever cared for, loved. After a long day of carrying the weight of those he could not save on his back, he relishes in the good memories he made with them, and lets it lift a bit.
He sleeps.
He usually has no issues waking up. He’s sometimes being startled awake by the sounds surrounding him, forcing him to grab the knife he keeps under his bed and to jump into a defensive stance, assessing the situation (it’s usually a false alarm). Most of the time, it’s by his own gasps as his body snaps his mind out of whatever nightmare it created, heart pounding so intensely he thinks it might beat out his ribcage, chest heaving as he struggles to get a proper breath.
Today, however, it seems he can’t pry his eyes open, even through he knows his life could be on the line. For real this time.
His back is aching, telling him that he’s on a hard surface – probably the floor – which instantly makes him suspicious because he is certain he fell asleep on his bed, and he can hear people yelling over him. A hand is roughly shaking his shoulder, making his neck strain as his head lolls uselessly like a doll. He recognises the voice closest to him as Stans’, but everything he can hear sounds blurred together, making it impossible for him to string a sentence together.
It is getting clearer though, which is good.
He thinks he can hear some growling, actually. But instead of it sounding like an animal scared out of its mind and defensive, it’s more like whoever the noise belongs to is trying to keep it low and threatening. As far as he knows, animals aren’t supposed have concealed emotion behind their growls.
But that means the only other thing it could be, is something of his past, the first universe he was snatched away from.
A werewolf.
So, he’s either delusional, or there’s a werewolf that Stan is yelling at in the room right now. He doesn’t know which option he dreads more.
He can make out words now, at least.
“Back off, growly,” Stan threatens, sounding wary.
“No!” A voice defies, a voice that sounds far too similar to another voice Mitch hasn’t heard in a long time. “Not until you back away from Stiles!”
And that name sparks something in him.
That’s a name he has missed being called, but only by the people who knew him by that name, because otherwise, it was a painful reminder of who he was and who he could not get back.
But instead of filling him with grief and heartbreak, it lightens him up, because it’s being said by someone he knew back then, not some stranger who has no insight of the baggage that name carries. It’s being said by someone he trusts, someone he cares about, someone he loves, and someone he thought he’d never see again.
His first best friend.
Scott McCall.
And if Scott is here, then maybe, just maybe, his dad is too. Maybe the two people he has been separated from the longest are here, and maybe he could see them, talk to them, hug them. Maybe he could do all these things.
And now the urge to get up is even stronger than before, but he only just became aware enough to make sense of words, so he can only dream about opening his eyes. He’s desperate though, so he will try his damned hardest.
Mitch wiggles his toes.
“What the hell, what even is a ‘Stiles’?” Stan challenges, still shaking Mitch’s arm which is getting on his nerves now.
“What do you mean, ‘what is a Stiles’,” Scott scorns, “you’re right next to him!”
“Her?” Stan queries, sounding almost appalled. “Hate to break it to you, kid, but she’s no ‘Stiles’. Does she look like a guy to you?”
“That’s not who he’s talking about, and you know it.” A third voice, one that might’ve brought him to tears if his eyes were open, says. “Stop trying to keep him from us.”
Mitch tries all the harder to move, now that he has heard that voice, because that voice belongs to the person he loves the most in all the lives he’s lived. This voice is one that surrounds him with love like none other has before. This voice reminds him of all the kind memories he made before he was taken. This voice touches his heart, pushing through all the darkness built up, and squeezes it.
This voice is his dads.
Mitch rolls his shoulders.
“I can tell you this, I have never heard of a man named ‘Stiles’ in my entire life.” Stan assures, certainty clear in his tone.
There’s a pause, a deafening silence that seems to last forever, before Scott confirms, sounding confused and a little heartbroken, “he’s telling the truth,”
Mitch tenses his eyelids.
“That— that can’t be true, because he’s right there. He’s right there! I can see him, and you can too! It’s him, Scott.” His dad yells, a little hysterical.
Mitch’s heart kind of shatters at that.
His father must be pointing at him or something because Stan stops shaking him (finally) and says, “are you talking about Rapp?”
Mitch can almost hear the confused frown Stan is no doubt wearing.
But before anyone can respond, Mitch takes his opportunity and blinks his eyes open, taking only a few moments to adjust to the light, before attempting to sit up.
Immediately, a hand is on his back, helping him as he moves. He groans as the movement jostles his protesting back. Mitch can see Stan beside him, proving him right that it was him who was shaking him far too aggressively. Next to Stan is Irene, Mitch assumes that she is the girl Stan was talking about.
He turns his head away from them, wanting – no, needing – to know if he was right, if the people he lost are really there and his mind wasn’t making up something in an attempt to comfort him.
He’s a little terrified of that being the case.
He squints, trying his hardest to get his eyes to focus on the blurred figures in front of him, and when they finally do, his heart skips a beat.
Because he was right.
It’s them.
They are here.
“Dad,” he croaks, not caring in the slightest that he sounds incredibly pathetic.
The hand on his back tenses and Mitch can see a million emotions flash across his fathers’ face all at once, before he settles on one.
“Stiles,” his dad breathes, relief evident in his voice.
And that is all it takes for Mitch to push past the achiness he feels, standing up. The hand is removed from his back as he stumbles once he’s on his feet, but he doesn’t let it deter him. He drags his shoes across the floor as he speeds towards his dad, and once he’s near enough, he lets himself fall into his arms.
His dad is here.
He buries his face in his dads’ neck as he feels strong arms wrap around him, enclosing him in an embrace full of love. He can feel tears prickling in his eyes, but refuses to let them fall, knowing distantly that his supervisors are still present, most likely watching him.
“Oh, son,” his father mutters, “where have you been?”
All over the universe, he thinks.
“Too far,” is what he says instead.
His dad pulls him away, keeping his hands resting firmly on his shoulders as he gives him a once over, almost as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, Mitch will disappear again.
He looks the same, a few more wrinkles added to his face and his hair is beginning to grey, but it’s so familiar that Mitch’s eyes burn with the need to release his tears. Tears of joy, hope and love. All the things he hasn’t felt in a long while.
Mitch doesn’t know what his dad is looking for when he stares into his eyes, searching for something. He seems to find it, or at least a part of it, because he breaks into a watery smile, a tear leaking down his face. Mitch is seconds away from doing the same.
He glances to his right and, guiltily, realises that he forgot all about Scott. He looks the same too, only he has gained more muscle and any remaining unnecessary fat on his face has been completely drained. The guy who is now looking at him like no time has passed, like Mitch is the same person he once knew, like he is still his best friend. Maybe they still are. Best friends last forever, after all.
“Hey, Scotty,” Mitch whispers, letting a small smile take hold of his face.
Scott visibly brightens, rushing over and dragging Mitch into his arms, squeezing him tight. Mitch nearly laughs at how similarly Scott acts since he last saw him. Scott has his face shoved in his neck and Mitch duly notes that he is probably scenting him. As weird as it is, he has missed Scott’s crazy werewolf tendencies.
“We missed you so much, dude,” Scott mumbles, words slurred as he talks into Mitch’s neck. “We never stopped looking. I promise, we never gave up looking for you. We tried our hardest, but you were just gone. You left no scent trail or anything. What happened, man? Where did you go?”
“You won’t believe me,” Mitch answers, pushing himself away from Scott’s suffocating grasp. He steps back, looking at his dad and his best friend at the same time, giving his supervisors a nice view of his back.
It’s only now that he looks around the room they are in.
There are a few black couches next to him, quite close together, facing forwards. The room has grey walls, and a few dull lights at the very back, but nothing other than that; making the room quite dark. The floor is a black carpet, not new but not too worn down either. What the strangest thing is though, is the massive screen the sofas are pointed towards. It’s off, but a flashing green light at the bottom right tells him that it’s still active. There is one door at the far end of the room, and no windows.
Weird.
“Your best friend is a werewolf, kid. I’ll believe anything at this rate.” His dad deadpans.
Mitch winces, going to respond, before catching sight of movement behind his dad. A person – no, people – are behind him and they all seem to be staring. He can’t quite make out their faces, still slightly disoriented from having just arisen. Mitch can’t remember hearing any other voices before, so he schools his emotions and instinctively reaches for his gun, before realising its not there.
“What?” Scott asks, turning his head to check behind him, his dad following suite.
“Rapp, what do you see?” Irene speaks, voice steady and commanding.
But Mitch ignores her like he usually does as he steps in between his dad and Scott, towards the figures.
He frowns, trying to get a better look as their faces become clearer the more he steps forward, before he hears a voice calling, “Thomas!?”
Mitch freezes, eyes widening because there’s no way. No way.
“Tommy, is that you!?”
Holy fuck, it is.
But how?
He can understand if Minho was here (sort of – he’s still wrapping his head around his dad being here, never mind Minho), but Newt? Newt is dead. Or he was the last time Mitch saw him. Dead with black ooze dripping out his mouth, veins discoloured, pupils so dilated it made his entire eyes look black, and a knife in his chest.
How could he have survived the Flare and a knife in his heart? It shouldn’t have been possible.
But Minho looks perfectly okay with Newt standing next to him, like he’s used to the blonde’s presence. Like he hadn’t died, after all. And the fact that they are both standing a few steps ahead of him, alive and well, means that they were able to get to the Safe Haven. That they had escaped. For real.
Mitch doesn’t know how, but they had done it.
He feels himself swell with pride, and his heart begins to beat stronger and faster than it has in a while because his best friends and his dad are here! With him!
They both look like how he remembers, only Newt seems to have filled up a bit, no longer the skinny teenager Mitch had been introduced to when they first met, and Minho has somehow gained even more muscle, despite not being required to run the Maze anymore.
They’ve both made a life for themselves, and Mitch couldn’t be happier for them. They deserve everything after all they’ve been through. After what WCKD put them through.
“Minho? Newt?” He responds, walking faster towards them.
“Holy shit, Thomas!” Minho yells, picking up his pace and dragging Newt with him. “Newt, it’s him!”
“Tommy,” Newt breathes, allowing himself to be dragged forward until they meet.
They all collide into each other, knocking the breath out of Mitch’s lungs. He’s, once again, wrapped in arms hugging him so tight he can tell how much he has been missed. He makes sure to match their strength, pouring his feelings into the touch.
Mitch can feel his heartbeat quicken at the proximity of the blonde in his grasp. He had realised his feelings towards the boy far too late last time, only fully coming into terms with them after he’d lost Newt.
Or, thought he’d lost him.
But now that they are back together, Mitch can sense his love for Newt return — or maybe it never left. It’s a miracle that Newt alone can make him feel so much lighter than before, and with Minho there, it only adds to the freedom of heartbreak he feels.
He knows better than to act on his feelings though. Newt and Minho haven’t seen him in years, and even for himself, the reunion is overwhelming enough. Plus, he doesn’t know if Newt would reciprocate.
But the fact that they are here, together and healthy, is enough for Mitch; so he pushes his romantic feelings down for now, basking in the relief that his two best friends are okay.
All too soon though, he’s being jerked away from their embraces and is held securely against a strong chest, a growl escaping the person behind him.
The rough treatment and the separation seem to set him off, because the hands feel too predatory for his liking. Mitch leans further back onto the body behind him, then throws his head back, hitting the man’s nose. He takes advantage of the guy’s surprise and secures his grip on the arm around him before throwing the man over him, the body landing on its back.
Mitch huffs in a breath, coming to his senses when he takes in who grabbed him. He sees the man on the floor is Scott, clutching his bleeding nose and looking up and him with a confused and hurt stare.
He just attacked his brother in all but blood.
“Sorry,” he apologises, panicked. His throat feels like it’s contracting. “I thought…”
He looks over at his dad, for what he doesn’t know (comfort, maybe?), and is met with concerned eyes. His father looks between him and Scott, silently asking something that Mitch can’t decipher right now because he just hurt Scott. Sure, he looks like he’s already healing, but it’s the fact he did it in the first place.
“Joel?”
He spins around to meet the voice behind him, and there stands the old man and little girl who basically saved his life – Clyde and Minnow.
Clyde – still looking exactly the same, and Minnow – the eight-year-old who has now grown into an eleven-year-old.
His breathing speeds up.
How are they here? How is everyone he has ever loved here? He lost them all when he changed universes for the last time. He knows he did because he has been living all this time without them, missing them so much because it felt like multiple pieces of himself were missing.
But now they are all here.
All at once.
Different people, from different universes, are here together.
How?
WCKD is gone; he knows it is.
So how have all these people managed to meet in one universe, if the only organisation that had the capabilities to do that is downed?
“Thomas?” He hears a voice call, worry etched in their tone.
“What’s wrong with him?” A young girl asks.
“Rapp, snap out of it.”
“Stiles, you need to breathe.”
He knows he needs to breathe, but his head is clouded with panic, and he can’t seem to inhale deep enough. A terror settles in his chest as he realises, he’s having a panic attack. He hasn’t had one of them since the nogitsune. Since he was in the universe where he belongs.
“I— can’t,” he stutters, breath coming in short gasps.
A hand takes his wrist, holding it in a way that should be comforting. It would – if he hadn’t had three years’ worth of trauma.
“Get off!” He yells, snatching his hand back from the grasp.
His eyes are getting blurry, and his body feels like its floating, not in the good way. He can feel his body struggling to get in a proper breath and he can’t tell if he’s getting too much or too little oxygen.
Before he can deteriorate any further, a sharp voice cuts through the fog in his head, bringing him back to awareness. “Rapp, get up! Now!”
He inhales deeply, back snapping straight but he stays on the floor, unable to bring himself to stand just yet.
When did he get on the floor?
“Are you deaf? Up, right now!”
And he does. He blinks to clear his vision, then stands. He slows his breathing and grabs the steering wheel of his mind, taking control again. The fog in his head is clearing, and he can see the worried faces of those around him.
Except for Stan – he must’ve been the one to take initiative.
“What do you call that then?” Said man demands. “You see a couple of old buddies and what? You can’t breathe? What if they were fakers out to kill you, huh? You’d be dead. What do I always tell you, Rapp? Huh? What is the number one rule I have?”
“Don’t make it personal.” Mitch answers, voice low.
He’s grateful Stan was able to snap him out of his thoughts, and he knows that his harsh reprimanding is just out of worry (probably), but Mitch can see Scott’s eyes glow a familiar red and the rest of the room’s participants – bar Irene – look at them both in confusion and anger.
“That’s right.” Stan agrees. “And what did you do as soon as you woke up? You ran over to strangers – without knowing if were out to get you or not – just because they looked like your long-lost family.”
Before Mitch can respond, Minnow steps in, seemingly had enough of the yelling. “Stop shouting at him!”
Stan stops and looks at the little girl, frowning. “And who are you? His sister? You sure don’t look related.”
“Don’t you start shouting at her, now,” Clyde glares, guiding Minnow behind him.
“He had a panic attack; he couldn’t help it.” Scott adds, frowning deeply. He has dried blood under his nose, but otherwise looks fine. Mitch still feels guilt pool in his chest. “He gets them sometimes.”
“No, he doesn’t?” Minho denies, staring at Scott like he’s a complete idiot. “The only time I’ve seen Thomas close to panicking was when he was a greenie first coming up in the Box.”
“What are you talking about?” Scott asks, eyeing up Minho. “Who even are you?”
Minho crosses his arms over his chest. “Why would I tell you?”
“Because—”
“Everyone, be quiet.” Irene commands, looking at everyone in the room with a glare that says, ‘try me’.
The room quietens.
Mitch has always found her authority rather impressive.
“Now, would anyone care to explain why we all seem to know this man,” she says, gesturing towards Mitch, “but by different names and, by the looks of it, different personalities?”
She focuses her eyes on Mitch, but he’s used to her threatening faces after one and a bit years of dealing with them, so he ignores her in favour of taking in the fact that everyone he cares deeply about is in this room.
He can’t seem to wrap his head around that. He’s half expecting to wake up in the hotel he rented any time soon.
Nobody speaks, which is to be expected since nobody apart from Mitch knows why he has different names. Or why he acts so different.
“Mitch?” Irene prompts sternly.
Mitch sighs, noting that everyone is staring at him expectantly. “You won’t believe me,” he repeats.
“Yeah, we also didn’t believe giant mutant animals could exist, but they do.” Clyde rolls his eyes.
He gets a few weird looks at that, but Mitch knows what he means.
Newt looks back at Mitch, apparently ignoring the old man’s comment, “Tommy, I think we’re all open to any explanation right now. Just go for it.”
Scott nods eagerly at that, looking desperate to know where Mitch has been. To be fair, Mitch would be desperate too if it was Scott that had went missing.
He gives in. He’s never really been able to defy Newt, anyway.
Plus, having everyone he loves surrounding him is lightening in soul, making him feel again. Making him more than a shell, home to anger and sadness and revenge.
“It’s going to sound like I’m crazy, but bear with me.” He gives in, rubbing a hand down his face.
“Well, this guy is talking about mutant animals, and that guy’s eyes glow red and can grow fangs out of nowhere.” Stan scoffs, waving a hand roughly in the direction of Scott and Clyde.
“We’ll believe you, Stiles.” His dad assures, speaking softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t before, but I will now.”
“Okay,” he says, dropping his arms at his sides. He looks at Newt and Minho. “You know WCKD?”
Immediately, Newt and Minho’s expressions harden into frowns.
“You mean the company that wiped our memories and stuck us in a death trap for science? Yeah, I have a faint recollection.” Minho sasses.
“Hang on, what?” His dad interrupts, appalled. He turns his gaze to Mitch, frowning. “Is that where you’ve been all this time?”
Mitch makes a face. “Kind of, but not—”
“Wait, is that your dad?” Minho asks, looking back and forth between them both, excitement barely concealed. “Do you have your memories back?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Is that why you couldn’t remember anything about your family when you were with us?” Minnow asks, trying to piece things together. It must be very confusing for her.
“No, I—”
“So, that’s why there’s no background information on you.” Irene muses.
“Am I explaining this or are you all just going to make assumptions?” Mitch snaps, tired of being interrupted. Jesus, they want him to explain but don’t give him the opportunity to.
A few look at him in shock at his outburst, but Irene wears a small smirk as she responds, “go on, Rapp.”
Mitch nods, continuing, “so, WCKD took you all to find a cure,” he explains, looking between Newt and Minho, “but they took me for another reason entirely.”
“What does that mean? I thought the whole point of the Maze was to find a cure?” Newt says, tilting his head in confusion.
“I know, it was. I wasn’t taken to find a cure. I was taken to be a test subject for travelling the multiverse.” He says, bluntly.
He lets that sit while he takes in the reactions of the people around him.
Stan and Irene look disbelieving, but like they are willing to hear him out – Mitch knows they were curious about his lack of background on the CIA databases. His dad and Scott are staring at him, ready for him to continue his story, like it doesn’t sound completely absurd. Minnow looks at him with scepticism, but since her world has massive bugs, Mitch figures she’ll come around – same with Clyde. Newt and Minho look like they believe every word, and Mitch supposes he would too after all that WCKD has done.
“They were originally an organisation that researched the multiverse and had found a way to travel to the other universes. All they needed was a test subject, and since they weren’t willing to use one of their own, I was apparently the next best option.”
“But why you?” Scott wonders.
Mitch winces. “Remember the nogitsune?”
A look of horror dawns over Scott and Mitch’s father.
“What’s a ‘nogitsune’?” Minho asks, completely oblivious to the brutal realisation dawning on Scott and Mitch’s fathers face.
“I’ll tell you later,” Mitch sighs, knowing he will have to because if anyone is stubborn, it’s Minho.
“Then what?” Irene prompts, once again.
“So, they picked me because of my endurance or something, and sent me to another universe. No build up or warnings, they just did it.” Mitch goes on. “They erased my memories before I got to the other universe.”
“It was our universe then.” Minnow concludes, looking at him for approval. “Right?”
“Right.” Mitch agrees. “They controlled me, somehow. Made me feel an intense need to go to this one bunker, so I went. And when I came back, I apparently had passed a test or something. It was then that they brought me to the next universe.”
“And then you met us,” Newt adds, frowning.
Mitch purses his lips and shakes his head. “No. Then I was sent to another universe, but nobody I knew from then are here. I was an oil rig worker at a place called Deepwater Horizon. Worked there for a few weeks — I had one more week until I could be sent back to the mainland — but the place… malfunctioned.”
His mind drifts back to the sound of pipes exploding, people screaming, fire burning through the chemicals. He inhales sharply, squeezing his eyes shut tight, before opening them back up, returning to the present.
He looks around at the stares of confusion and concern, tries not to wince, and continues before anyone can question further. “WCKD was getting desperate; they had been trying for years and still hadn’t found a cure to the Flare. They stopped trialing me and sent me to the Maze. I think they thought I’d have promising results. Then I met you guys, Minho was taken and you…”
“I pretty much died.” Newt finishes for him.
Mitch grimaces. “When I went back inside, Janson attacked me. I fought back, but the building was going down. Teresa had somehow managed to get me my memories back and in a panic, she pressed the button to take me to another universe. Where I met Irene and Stan.”
He makes sure to avoid adding the fact he had been shot and the building was going down. He doesn’t need all the worrying just yet.
The people he expected to at least half believe him look like they do. Scott and his dad are looking at him with the most heartbroken faces Mitch thinks he has ever seen – he can’t help but feel sorry for them. Minho and Newt seem to think his story is plausible, but mostly they just look relieved he’s not dead. Minnow and Clyde look slightly suspicious but seem to think it’s a reasonable explanation. Stan and Irene look like they want proof.
“While it makes sense,” Irene begins, “how do we know you’re not just pulling our legs? We don’t know what WCKD is, or what a nogitsune is, or what the Flare is, or who Janson and Teresa are.”
“It’s a long—”
Mitch cuts himself off when the room lights up, making his eyes squint involuntarily. He spins around to see that the giant screen has switched on, and everyone in the room is looking at it intensely. The screen is white, with faded black words appearing near the middle. Mitch reads them and feels his eyes widen in shock.
‘Welcome.
You must all be wondering how and why you were brought here, and apologies to any distress caused in the process.
You are here to look more in depth of a specific individual’s life so far – including all the troubles said individual has had to face.
This has not been arranged with the intent to hurt, only for the sake of understanding and compassion.
A series of long videos will be shown to you, following the life of the man, Mitch Rapp.
You may also know him as; Mieczyslaw ‘Stiles’ Stilinski, Joel Dawson, or Thomas.
A name none of you will know him by, but he was still previously called, is ‘Caleb Holloway’.
The videos will be shown in chronological order, although some parts of his life may be missed out.
The videos will begin with the nogitsunes possession of Stiles.
Please do not attempt to find a way to leave, as the only way back is by our hand.
So, have a seat and take in the information.
Yours faithfully,
?’
And Mitch doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t think anybody does, if the silence is anything to go by. Some look shocked, most likely disbelieving of the situation – Mitch would be too if he hadn’t been picked for universe travelling. Others look more accepting of the situation, like they desperately want to know what Mitch has been through.
Well, Mitch knows what he has been through, and he doesn’t really want to relive it, thank you very much.
But the screen said there was no way out of this, and strangely, Mitch believes them. Whoever ‘they’ are. Not WCKD, he hopes.
Mitch isn’t okay, he knows this. After everything he has faced, everything he has done, he doesn’t think anyone would be okay. One round of trauma is enough, he doesn’t need to go through that again. He doesn’t want to go through that again – he can’t. It might break him for good if he has to lose his family again.
But, he supposes, this time his family is at his side and won’t leave, helping him through it. He doesn’t have to hide anything here, because all will surely be revealed anyway. He’s tired of lying, if he’s being honest.
Maybe, this time it won’t be so bad. Maybe, he might even be able to heal, now that his loved ones are at his side. Isn’t reflecting on yourself a good thing? He’s sure he’s heard that before. Exposure therapy, or something.
“Am I the only one who finds this completely insane?” Stan demands, looking around at the room’s occupants.
“You’re not alone,” Irene sighs, sorting through her thoughts, “but I don’t think we have any other choice than to believe it.”
“We could escape! I’m an assassin, Irene, I won’t be stumped by a room.” Stan hisses, voice dropping to a whisper. Mitch finds it funny that he doesn’t know Scott can hear him.
Scott frowns at what he hears, but doesn’t bring it up, only shooting Mitch a confused look, which he avoids.
“All your whispering is getting annoying.” Minnow frowns. “Tell us all what you’re thinking, old man.”
Minho snorts at that. Mitch thinks they’d get along great.
“It’s none of your business, little girl. Didn’t your daddy teach you any manners?” Stan counters.
Mitch winces.
“My daddy is dead.” Minnow counters, deadpan.
Stan seems a little taken aback by that, which is surprising. Nothing usually ever seems to shock Stan.
“Okay, this is getting ridiculous.” Mitch’s dad interrupts. “Let’s take a vote; should we attempt to leave or… watch Stiles’ life. Those for staying?”
Nearly all hands go up.
Well, all hands apart from Stan and Mitch, who is still having mixed feelings about his most traumatic experiences being shown to everyone here. Not that he doesn’t want them to know, but them actually seeing what he went through could be a bit much, for him and for them. Plus, he’s not really close enough with Stan and Irene that he wants them to know his entire life story.
“Shouldn’t my vote count for, like, four people? Since, y’know, it’s my life?” Mitch asks, a little of his old sarcasm slipping back into his vocabulary.
“Even if it did, we’d still win, Tommy,” Newt smirks, crossing his arms.
Mitch rolls his eyes, albeit fondly.
“Sorry, dude,” Scott winces. “I don’t want to relive the nogitsune any more than you do, but I need to know what happened to you. Properly.”
Mitch looks around the room at the looks of curiosity and slight hesitance. He’d never be able to say no to all these people on a good day, and it looks like they have no choice in the matter.
“Fine.” Mitch sighs. “But don’t expect anything shown to be pretty.”
His dad pulls him in for a side hug, squeezing his arm. Mitch is reluctant to admit his hardened posture practically melts away at his dads embrace. “We just want to know so we can help you, kiddo.”
“I know.” Mitch mumbles, stepping towards the seats.
The seats are arranged in a cross formation, with three two-person sofas next to each other in the middle, one two-person sofa behind them, and another in front of them. Stan and Irene take the seats behind while Minnow and Clyde take the seats in front. Mitch sits in the middle, with his dad and Scott on one side, and Newt and Minho on the other.
He likes this formation the best, he thinks.
A second goes by, and the screen lights up again, new words forming on the white background.
‘Thank you for your cooperation.
Now, for some background information on Stiles Stilinski’s first universe:
Supernatural creatures exist in this universe, with Stiles’ best friend (Scott McCall) being a werewolf. He acquired his powers after being bitten by an Alpha werewolf.
A lot of cruel creatures come to where the best friends stay – Beacon Hills.
They make it their job to deal with them.
Their most recent adventure: saving their parents from being sacrificed for a dark druid to gain more powers, all while being hunted by an Alpha werewolf pack.
They both – and their friend Allison – sacrificed themselves to find their parents and save them.
The price was a darkness forever surrounding their hearts.
They succeeded, and this is where the beginning of Stiles’ possession begins.’
It’s silent for a few moments, before—
“Werewolves? Really? You expect us to believe that?” Stan drones, looking bored.
Scott turns around to face him, shifting into his beta form – effectively shutting Stan up and removing any doubts he had. Mitch smirks to himself at Stan getting humbled. It doesn’t happen often.
“They keep saying you got ‘possessed’, kid.” Clyde observes. “What does that mean?”
“I literally got possessed.” Mitch answers. He gets a few concerned glances from Minho and Newt, but continues to stare at the screen, pretending not to notice them.
The screen lights up again, signalling a new message.
‘The videos from this universe will only be scenes relating to the nogitsune, so you may have to fill each other in on what is missing.
The videos will now begin,’
And they do.
Notes:
time frame:
- nogitsune's possession of stiles (two months)
- joel living in the bunker (a year)
- joels journey across the surface (fifteen days)
- caleb holloway at deepwater horizon previously (2 weeks)
- caleb surviving the explosion (1 day)
- gladers escaping the maze (3-4 days)
- gladers escaping the facility and travelling across the scorch (two weeks)
- time between the scorch trials and the death cure (six months)
- gladers sneaking into wckd and saving minho, newt dying, and thomas leaving (one week)
- mitch's life in his new universe (one year and seven months)extra info:
- altogether, it has been 3 years and a little over one week that stiles has been away from his original universe (teen wolf).
- he spends all his life up until after he got possessed in his original universe, a year and two weeks in love and monsters, six months and two weeks in the maze runner trilogy, and a year and seven months in american assassin.
- stiles is 16 in teen wolf, 17 in love and monsters, deepwater horizon, and the maze runner, and turns 18 in american assassin.i only recently added deepwater horizon into this fic, im still debating whether it’s a good idea or not, please let me know what you think! personally, i think it adds to stiles’ transition from a carefree teenager to a deeply troubled one as he has faced a horrible tragedy, and even without memories, his subconscious will know something he doesn’t.
if you think anything here is inaccurate, please say so and i'll try to fix it
Chapter 2: Teen Wolf – Season 3B, Episode 1
Summary:
Everyone is introduced to the symptoms of what dying and coming back to life means in the supernatural world, while also getting filled in on the events leading up to this point. Mitch is just glad that Scott seems happy to do all the explaining. Minho, Newt, Noah, Scott, Clyde and Minnow worry, while Stan and Irene try their best to wrap their heads around everything.
Notes:
i actually managed to finish this chapter earlier than expected, so i hope you like it!
please don't expect the same level of swiftness for the other chapters as i had a head start on this one...
i’m only including the scenes related to stiles’ possession so any extra plot will not be present :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The video begins with a nice view of a town, lighting up the dark night sky. The camera lowers, showing the shadows of trees beginning to cover the towns lights, and zooming into a house.
“That’s our house,” Mitch’s dad states, looking a little freaked out.
Newt and Minho – who haven’t seen a standing house since their memories were wiped – look at Mitch’s home with wonder. “Nice,” Minho mutters.
Mitch huffs through his nose, fondly.
We are brought inside a window, bringing a room into view. The room has a cluttered desk and posters plastered all over the walls. There is a bed in the far corner that we get closer to, a bed that holds a sleeping teenager on it.
Behind him, Mitch can sense Stan folding his arms and studying the screen. He’s no doubt taking in every ounce of information given to him. And according to the messages left for them, there will be a lot of information to uncover, some of which Mitch wishes would be left in his memories alone.
Not much he can do about it now, though.
“Your room still looks the same,” Scott informs him, leaning around Mitch’s dad to get a better look at him. “We didn’t change anything in case you came back.”
Mitch watches as his dad tenses at the reminder of his son being missing.
“Thanks, buddy,” Mitch nods, looking back to the screen.
Scott smiles at him and does the same.
The teen huffs, unable to sit still in their sleep. They turn around to reveal that the boy in the bed is Stiles, eyes closed, but face tight as his breathing speeds up.
Mitch frowns. He expected the personal shit to come later on, but no. First video and his nightmares are already being exposed.
The others on his row of seats look on at the screen with furrowed brows.
The camera pans and we see Stiles’ grip tighten on his bed covers, knuckles whitening. We get closer to his face and see him sheened with sweat; eyebrows drawn into a distressed frown as he sleeps.
His breath hitches and his face contracts more as he whimpers quietly, “No, no, no, no, no.” He begins to shudder, whispering brokenly, “don’t let them in.”
Mitch watches his father’s face morph into one of heartbreak at how scared his son sounds. Scott looks similar, and Mitch can see him tightening his grip on the sofa. He hopes he doesn’t break it with his werewolf superstrength.
Newt and Minho look distraught as well, having not seen Mitch show many signs of weakness or fragility in the time they knew him. They wanted to know Mitch better, he knows this, and learning his past and his trauma is a great way to do that, but they clearly hadn’t been completely prepared for how different Mitch acted. Or acts, since he has changed quite significantly in the past year and a bit he’s been in Stan and Irene’s universe.
Newt sneaks a glance at Mitch, subtly checking on him.
Mitch notices, so actually, he’s really not being subtle at all. He meets his gaze and tilts his head to one side, a small smile grazing his lips in a way to comfort Newt. It must work, because Newt’s lips quirk up and he turns to the screen again.
His eyes twitch as his breathing becomes slightly more frantic, “don’t let them in.”
We are further away from his face again, now able to see his full body twisting in his sleep as he continues to repeat, “no, don’t let them in.”
Something must seem to click in his dad’s memory, because he leans over and whispers to Mitch, “is that the first night you woke up screaming?”
Mitch nods, “yeah.”
Scott looks like he understands when this took place now, having heard the conversation. Sometimes, Mitch wonders if he deliberately listens in to conversations or if he can’t help it. Knowing Scott, it’s probably the former.
His breathing speeds up, breaths coming in short pants as his neck tenses while he continues to mutter under his breath.
The scene begins to change, his bedroom darkening and streams of light shining horizontally across his face as he shifts.
“What’s happening?” Minnow asks, confused.
Mitch thinks that she has just voiced the thoughts of everyone in the room. He assumes that this is some sort of visual transformation into his dream, and trust him, he can remember that dream pretty well. The terror stuck with him, and so did the memories.
“It’s probably changing to inside my dream,” he answers aloud.
A few nod in understanding.
His eyes snap open suddenly and he lifts his hands up, banging them against something metal. He stops, shocked.
All those on his row inhale sharply at the suddenness. Minnow turns around, looking at Mitch with innocent, worried eyes. Mitch smiles softly at her, which seems to console her enough since she turns back round towards the screen.
He’s kind of surprising himself at how much he seems to be smiling. Sure, most of it is to console others and convince them that he is okay, but usually he wouldn’t bother. He assumes it’s because he is with his family again — they always seemed to lighten him up in their own ways, and now that they are all here, the light is shining through his darkness.
The camera pans out and we see that he is trapped in a locker. He tries to look out of the openings, but gives up after he realises, they are too small. He pushes his hands against the door, hitting in repeatedly as he grows more desperate.
Minho and Newt’s frowns deepen at Mitch’s frightened state. They had obviously hoped that his life would’ve been better before the Maze, that it wouldn't have completely sucked. But they were wrong, and seeing their best friend in so much distress is clearly hurting their hearts.
Before he can back out, Mitch rests his hand on Newts wrist, fingers gently pressing down on his pulse. He can feel the strong, thump-thump, thump-thump, of Newt’s heartbeat and something inside him eases — like his body now has physical evidence that his best friend is alive and is able to sooth something horrible that was brewing. Newt loosens his tightened grip on the couch and glances over at him. Mitch meets his eyes – deep, dark chocolate ones filled with worry – with a small upwards tilt of his lips.
Newt smiles back, but his eyes stay swirling with concern – and Mitch inwardly cringes at the way his heart flutters because; he’s an assassin, he can’t afford to have feelings for anyone, but ultimately decides it’s okay because he thought he’d never see these people ever again less than a day ago. Mitch knows Newt is grateful for the comfort but the other can’t bring himself to be assured that Mitch is okay.
Mitch knows the feeling, so he just looks back at the screen.
He blatantly ignores Scott’s knowing smirk. The smug asshole probably heard his heart speed up.
With one final push, he falls out of the locker, stumbling slightly. He looks around as the camera zooms out, revealing the boy’s locker room at the school he goes to.
Stiles catches a view of himself in the mirror, looking at himself with fear.
“Finally see how much of an ugly shank you are?” Minho teases, trying to make light of the situation. Mitch can see his eyes are still upset as he meets his gaze.
Minho gets a snort from Minnow at his comment.
Mitch rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Yeah, yeah,”
He takes back his previous statement; Minho and Minnow should not become friends. They’d be unstoppable.
Others look confused at the foreign word.
He leaves the locker room, stepping out into the dark hallway of his school in nothing but his PJs. He walks through the familiar area, looking around in confusion, before he notices a door left open.
He looks at it with uncertainty, walking towards it.
The door leads to a classroom with chairs and desks shoved carelessly to the sides of the walls, mud trailing across the floor to reveal a massive tree stump in the middle of the room.
“What kind of a dream is that?” Clyde asks, voicing the confusion of everyone else in the room – minus Mitch, his dad and Scott.
“That tree is a special tree. It’s called the ‘Nemeton’ and it’s basically a beacon for supernatural creatures.” Scott explains. “This is what the message was talking about when it said me, Stiles and Allison sacrificed ourselves to that tree so we could figure out where our parents were.”
Mitch’s heart pangs with guilt when Scott’s voice breaks as he says his former girlfriends name.
Everyone looks at least slightly shocked at that information.
“And when you say sacrificed...?” Irene starts.
“We basically died and came back to life.” Mitch finishes, deadpan.
Stan and Irene simply nod, faces neutralising again.
Newt and Minho are looking at Mitch with matching looks of shock and even deeper concern than before, which Mitch finds understandable. He doesn’t want them constantly worried about him though, so he meets their gazes with a reassuring smile. Again. God, he’s going to get tired of doing that every second to everyone in the room.
Minnow looks back at him with wonder, Clyde looks sceptical but seems to find it reasonable enough since this is another universe, and his universe has literal giant animals.
Scott looks at Mitch’s dad, sheepish, while Noah just looks at him and Mitch with a thankful expression. It’s almost enough to hide the guilt in his eyes, but in the past years, Mitch has gotten good at reading people. And he has known his dad all his life (until he was taken but he doesn’t need to count that), so that makes it even easier.
Mitch just lifts the hand – the one that’s not still carefully wrapped around Newt’s wrist – up to his dads’ shoulder and squeezes, smiling softly at him. It seems to ease him well enough.
“Why were your parents even missing in the first place? Couldn’t you have just went to the police like normal people?” Minho asks, looking at Mitch.
“That’s also what the message was saying. This druid was sacrificing people for more power, so we couldn’t exactly explain that to the public. Plus, Stiles’ dad is the sheriff, so.” Scott chips in.
“Shit, man.” Minho responds, still looking at Mitch. He looks concerned, almost as concerned as Newt which breaks Mitch’s heart a bit, because Newt cares for everyone around him far too much.
He can feel his heart swell happily at the attention Newt is giving him but does his best to ignore it, instead choosing to squeeze the blonde’s wrist slightly.
“All my years in Beacon Hills after Scott got turned into a werewolf were crazy, you gotta get used to it, dude.” He dismisses, smirking at Minho.
Minho doesn’t look convinced that he’s okay, but drops it, looking back at the screen.
We see Stiles walking closer to the tree, reaching a hand out to touch it.
The stump wraps its branches around his arm, pulling his hand down.
Nearly everyone jumps at the suddenness.
Mitch frowns, feeling his dad’s shoulders tense up under one hand, and Newt tightening his grip on the sofa again with the other.
Suddenly, we are back in Stiles’ room, as he bolts upright, inhaling deeply as he catches his breath.
Mitch watches his dad’s eyebrows furrow, clearly confused as this is not how he remembered that night’s events.
He hears a few people exhale in relief that the dream is over. Mitch says nothing, knowing that this wasn’t even the worst of it.
A female voice speaks, worried. “You okay? Stiles?”
This time, everyone startles at the new voice, having not expected a girl to be in bed with a teenage boy.
Mitch feels Newt’s hand tense up further, confusing him.
A redhead sits up beside Stiles, looking at him through tired, yet worried eyes. She holds his arm with her hand, squeezing in comfort.
Minho huffs a laugh, once again finding humour in the situation. “Who knew you were so popular with the ladies?”
“Trust me, I wasn’t.” Mitch snorts.
“Is she your girlfriend?” Minnow asks, eyes never straying from the woman on screen.
Scott rolls his eyes, a smile pulling at his mouth. “He wishes.”
He sighs quietly, knowing he’s about to get humbled by a eleven-year-old. Minho, Newt, his dad and Scott all turn to him at the sound, looking at him with a mix of curiosity and concern.
Minnow nods to herself, “she’s too pretty for you anyway. I’d be surprised if a sand gobbler decided to date you.”
Mitch just takes his hands back from the two people next to him and places his face in them. He knew it was coming. Still, he can’t help but appreciate Minnow bringing some sense of normality back into the room. Well, as normal as people from different universes can get. He feels himself form a smile, still choosing to hide his face in his hands.
He hears Clyde chuckle and Minho snort at her comment, everyone else staying quiet. They’re probably wondering what a ‘sand gobbler’ is. Mitch supposes they’ll find out after his time in his first universe is up.
Stiles releases a sigh, “yeah, I was just dreaming.” He shuts his eyes before continuing, “it was weird, it was like a dream within a dream.”
He looks up again, dropping his hands, not really wanting to miss anything going on on-screen. He’d like to know which parts of his life are being exposed and which aren’t.
The girl looks at him with concern, “a nightmare?”
Stiles sighs again, reaching a hand out to clasp the woman’s’ hand that has come to rest on his knee, “yeah.”
Minho looks back to him, confused. “She sure looks like your girlfriend.”
Mitch shrugs, “you’ll see in a second.”
Stiles looks put off for a second, looking at the hand rubbing his back, then towards the girl beside him, confused.
This seems to make a few people uncertain, while at the same time curing his fathers and Scott’s confusion. They seem to know he was still dreaming now, although Mitch doesn’t know how Scott hadn’t figured that out right away, since there was no way he would’ve been able to get Lydia Martin in his bed.
The girl continues to look at him, worried.
“Wait a sec, Lydia?” Stiles says, eyebrows furrowing. “What are you doing here?”
The uncertainty turns to downright confusion.
A door creaks, catching Stiles’ and Lydia’s attention. The door seems to have opened by itself.
“Hang on,” Stiles mutters, beginning standing up.
“Stiles, where are you going?” Lydia whispers, slightly panicked.
“I should have closed the door.” Stiles answers, looking at said door with fear.
“So, did she… climb into your bed while you slept?” Minho wonders, eyebrows furrowing.
Mitch huffs a laugh, “no, Minho.”
“Then what?” Newt speaks for the first time in a while, seeming a bit frustrated.
Mitch doesn’t reply for a minute, taken aback by the tone of his best friend’s voice, before understanding that this must be very confusing for everyone who doesn’t know what is going on. He knows he was definitely confused when he was having the dream.
“You’ll understand in a second.” Mitch answers, repeating himself.
“Why can’t you just tell us now,” Minnow huffs, apparently fed up with the secrecy. She turns around to glare at him.
Mitch tilts his head, explaining, “why go through the effort of saying what is just about to be shown anyway?”
Minnow considers this for a moment, before turning back around.
“Just go back to sleep,” Lydia suggests, attempting to push him back down.
Stiles refuses, standing up fully this time. “No, no, I should close it.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Lydia mutters, almost urgently.
Stiles moves towards the door. “What if someone comes in?” He asks, getting more suspicious.
“What’s so important about a door?” Stan says, no doubt crossing his arms over his chest if the sound of clothes ruffling is anything to go by.
“You’ll see.” Mitch answers for what feels like the millionth time.
“Like who?”
Stiles ignores her, edging closer to the door.
“Just go back to sleep, Stiles.” Lydia tries again, more desperate than before.
Stiles shakes his head slightly, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. “No, but what if they get in?” He whispers, hoarsely.
Mitch pointedly ignores the concerned glances he’s being thrown from every direction.
Lydia looks scared now. “What if who gets in?” She sits up, more alert now that Stiles is at the door. “Stiles, just leave it. Please.”
Stiles stays at the door, looking at it intensely.
“Stiles! Stiles, come back to bed.”
Living through the dream was one thing – he was young and confused and had desperately needed to know what was behind the door at the time. Rewatching it, he wishes he never opened the door. Wishes he had listened to fake-Lydia’s warnings. She is a banshee, after all.
If he hadn’t opened it, he wouldn’t have given the nogitsune complete access to his mind, he wouldn’t have been possessed, wouldn’t have killed Allison, WCKD wouldn’t have taken an interest in him, and he would’ve been safe, with his dad.
But, if he hadn’t lived through all this, he never would’ve met Clyde or Minnow or the people in his bunker, never would’ve met his best friend, never would’ve met the love of his life (because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It has been years and Mitch still loves Newt as much as he always has, even when he’d thought the other was dead. He still feels the lingering heat of Newt’s touch, still feels the fluttering in his stomach when Newt is nearby, still falls into a trance whenever Newt speaks, his melodic voice momentarily releasing Mitch from every problem or trouble he is facing). He likes Stan and Irene, but honestly, he wouldn’t have minded if he had never met them.
Although, his mental state would’ve been much better, he never would’ve met the people who bring him back to the light. He supposes that makes it worth it, because he already feels lighter than he has in a while after just a few moments with these people.
Still, it doesn’t completely erase the regret of accidentally allowing his mind to be penetrated by a dark spirit who thrives in the name of chaos and how much pain it caused those around it.
He lifts his hand to the doorknob.
“Stiles? Please?”
He grabs it, opening the door as shadows flow across his face.
“Don’t! Stiles, don’t!” Lydia yells. “Don’t go in there, please, don’t!” She pleads. “Please, Stiles, don’t!”
The others watch the screen with wide eyes.
“She was warning you,” Scott murmurs after a second, voice barely audible to Mitch. He watches as his dad falls to the same conclusion.
“Yeah,” Mitch confirms, voice gravelly and low.
He’s glad Scott had spoken so quietly, knowing the others would’ve been set off on another round of question asking. Like they aren’t literally watching the answers to any questions they have.
Mitch can’t help but find it fascinating that Lydia’s banshee powers were warning him even when she was unaware of it. Or maybe she was aware of it – it would explain how she knew he was having trouble with sleeping.
Stiles walks through the door, fully emerged in the darkness.
He is in the woods now, wind blowing the fog near the floor around. The same tree stump as before is in front of him and we can hear the steady pounding of his heart speeding up as he walks closer.
Finally, everyone realises the nature of the situation.
“You were still dreaming.” Minho states, nodding to himself like everything makes sense now. Mitch notices that Newt’s grip on the seat has loosened but is still considerably tight.
Still, the fact that Mitch is still clearly trapped in his mind brings frowns back to everyone’s faces.
Suddenly, lights switch on, surrounding him with brightness as he stands the centre of attention.
A few jump at the suddenness, sending troubled glances Mitch’s way. He can even feel the eyes of his supervisors on the back of his head.
We zoom into Stiles’ face as he stumbles, disorientated.
“Okay,” he huffs, breathing speeding up again. “It’s a dream. This is just a dream. It’s just a dream, get it out of your head, Stiles.” He says to himself, becoming fearful.
Tears form in his eyes.
Mitch can almost hear the hearts of the four people beside him shattering.
“You’re dreaming, all right? So, wake up, Stiles.” He speaks, voice getting louder. He slaps his head with his hand, grabbing his hair and pulling. “Wake up, Stiles.” He repeats, getting louder.
Everyone tenses up, Mitch included. A partial amount of the extreme terror he felt making an appearance, compressing his chest as he fights to take an even breath.
He squeezes his eyes shut in fear, then brings both hands up to his hair, pulling as he screams, “WAKE UP!”
“Shuck, Tommy,” Newt breathes, eyebrows tilted upwards, lips parted. Even like this, Mitch can’t help but think he’s beautiful. He then berates himself for being so sappy.
“It’s alright,” he speaks, just loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m fine now.”
The tense scene cuts to a contrasting peaceful one. Stiles is laying in bed, sun streaming on his face as his face is relaxed with sleep. His eyes flutter open as he looks around, no hint of the familiar terror present in his posture.
The room collectively sighs – most glad that Mitch’s dream has ended and that he seems to be in no real distress outside of his mind, but his dad and Scott seem to relax at his reaction to his dream not being shown.
Mitch looks ahead, waiting until they both realise that he’s not free yet.
A knock comes from outside his door and a second later, his father walks in, dressed in a sheriff’s uniform.
“Hey, time to get up, kiddo,” he says as Stiles sits up, memories of his dream flooding back to him. “Get your butt to school.”
Minho and Newt form little smiles at his dads’ playful but demanding attitude. Honestly, Mitch is lucky to have him as a dad.
His dad, however, frowns. He seems to have recognised that this is not how their actual conversation went. Mitch watches as his face falls, looking over to his son with an expression so upset. It kills him a little inside for his dad to be so concerned when his life only continues to worsen.
He takes his dads’ hand in his. It’s not something they’d usually do, but Mitch figures both he, and his father deserve what comfort they can give each other.
His dad nods at him, then wanders out, sipping at his mug.
Stiles looks around, dazed. He sighs, thankful that his awful dream is over.
The scene switches to Scott and Stiles walking down stairs, towards their next class, back at the high school Stiles dreamt of last night, only this time while he is awake, and the sun is shining.
Minnow, Minho and Newt look at the school with wonder, never having been able to attend one. Mitch’s heart aches for them missing out on so much of their childhood.
“And you couldn’t wake up?” Scott asks, looking curious and slightly worried at the same time.
“Nope. And it was terrifying.” Stiles responds. “You ever heard of sleep paralysis?”
Scott looks taken aback by the question for a second, before responding, “uh, no, do I want to?”
“Even I know what sleep paralysis is, and I’m eleven.” Minnow says, rolling her eyes dramatically.
Scott looks considerably offended and Mitch can’t help the snort that makes its way out.
“Well, have you ever had a dream where you feel like you’re about to wake up, but you can’t move or talk?” Stiles asks, using his hands to explain further.
Scott nods, “yeah, yeah, I’ve had that.”
The two boys walk further towards the school, stepping into the shade caused by the building.
“It happens because during REM sleep your body is basically paralyzed. It’s called muscle atonia.” Stiles explains. “That way, if you start dreaming about running, you don’t actually start running in your bed.”
“No wonder you worked for WCKD with brains like that, greenie,” Minho smirks, turning to face him. His eyes aren’t fully in it though, which tells Mitch he’s still disorientated from the dream.
And that gets Mitch thinking, because he didn’t work for WCKD. He knows he didn’t, because he would’ve remembered when he got all his memories back. So, that means that not only had the company succeeded in removing his memories, but they also managed to implant fake ones, or at least alter his original ones. And while it makes sense, it sends a cold shiver through his body, one that he is not capable of supressing.
His dad must feel it through where their hands are still clasped, because he turns to look at Mitch suddenly, brows furrowed as he asks quietly, “you okay, kid?”
But not quiet enough, because it catches the attention of the remaining people in the room who turn to look at him curiously as well.
“Yeah, I just—” Mitch pauses, then looks at Newt and Minho. “I never worked for WCKD.”
“What?” Newt voices after a second. “But you were so sure? And the lady – Mary – said you were the one to send her the coordinates to all the WCKD bases?”
But Mary had worked for WCKD at some point, and she might’ve thought that it’d be easier to keep up the act, rather than explain the whole multiverse bullshit. He feels a little resentful for that; that she’d kept any information on his family away from him, but then he remembers her death, and immediately feels guilty.
She probably had the best intentions.
“She probably thought it’d be easier to say that rather than explain the multiverse to a group of teenagers,” Mitch answers. “I do remember giving them the coordinates, though. Before they removed my memories again—they said my body needed time to adjust before my mind was ‘altered’ again or something.”
“How did you know to give them to the Right Arm?” Minho asks, leaning forward more.
Mitch considers this. Although he got his memories back, he’s still human and can’t remember all of the little details. He’s not an AI.
“Maybe I overheard it?” He answers, shrugging.
His dad squeezes his hand. “It sounds like you did a good thing, Stiles. I’m proud of you,”
Mitch’s heart swells, more of the built-up, dark residue breaking away. “Thanks, dad,” he mutters.
Scott nods again, following along. “That makes sense.”
“But sometimes your mind can wake up before your body does.” Stiles continues. “So, for this split second, you’re actually aware that your body is paralyzed.” He finishes, jumping up some stairs.
“And that’s the terrifying part.” Scott concludes, holding the straps of his backpack.
“It turns your dream into a nightmare.” Stiles agrees, exasperated. “You can feel like you’re falling, like you’re being strangled, or, in my case, like you’re at the centre of a grove of magical trees where human sacrifices took place.”
They are both at the entrance doors to the school building now, pushing through them as Scott asks, “you think it means something?”
“Duh,” Minnow snarks.
Scott frowns again, and Mitch barely suppresses another snort.
They walk past other students, continuing their conversation. “What if what we did that night… what if it’s still affecting us?”
Scott frowns, looking confused as he tries to follow Stiles’ train of thought. “Like post-traumatic stress?”
“Even without the sacrifices, you two have definitely been affected mentally,” Irene nods, speaking up for the first time in ages. “Especially you, if what you say is true, Mitch.”
Mitch choses to ignore this statement. Scott stays dutifully silent too.
“Or something.” Stiles adds.
They both get to their class, setting their bags down at their seats and sitting. When Stiles starts talking, Scott turns around to look at him, curious.
“But you wanna know what scares me the most?” Stiles adds, not quite finished yet.
Immediately, this brings the frowns back to everyone’s faces – including Mitch’s own.
Scott looks at him, worried for his best friend. He looks at him seriously, ready to comfort Stiles if he needs it.
We get a view closer to Stiles’ face. He looks up at Scott, eyes communicating barely concealed terror in them. He whispers, “I’m not even sure this is real.”
Mitch braces himself.
The scene switches very suddenly, and we are back in Stiles’ bedroom. It’s still night and Stiles is in bed.
He bolts upright, screaming at the top of his lungs, finally free from his nightmare. He breathes in a quick breath before yelling out again, petrified.
Everyone jumps.
Minnow covers her ears with her hands while staring at the screen with terrified eyes, whimpering softly, Clyde switching between checking on the young girl and watching the screen, eyebrows furrowed into an intense frown.
Stan makes no noise, but his frown increases by a tenfold and his hands tighten around his arms where they are crossed. Irene looks away to the floor, most likely giving Mitch any amount of privacy he can get, biting her lip and frowning.
His dad looks just as distraught at hearing his son’s terror as he did the first time; maybe even more now that he knows what had actually occurred in the dream. He tightens the grip he has on Mitch’s hand to the point that he is cutting of blood circulation, but Mitch lets him continue, needing the comfort himself.
Scott winces at first at the loud sound, then stares on at the screen, expression tight at the sight of his best friend. His eyes are tainted red as he struggles not to crowd Mitch into the couch and hug him as tightly as he can, while smearing his scent all over him to keep him safe from anything like this happening again.
Minho and Newt, though? They are worse off.
Having never heard him like this before and being two of the four who care for him the most, seeing Mitch like this must be killing them.
Minho watches the screen with a hand covering his mouth, looking crestfallen, eyebrows creasing so much he might have permanent marks between them. He has let out a small gasp and is inhaling deeply, gripping the couch with so much force he might actually break it.
Newt looks heartbroken. His eyes are holding tears, refusing to let them slip down his face. He has tensed up, frozen at the sounds of his best friends screams of pure terror. His eyebrows are tilted heavily upwards, and his lips are parted and pulling into a frown, letting out small gasps and sharp inhales as he struggles to deal with the emotional scene.
Mitch forces himself not to react. Seeing how scared he was, how absolutely petrified he had been, sends a sharp pain through his soul and some of the familiar terror ceases his lungs as he attempts to inhale. He stares at the scene, face impasse, and hands gripping the couch edge and his father’s hand. He tries to push his fear down, but it grips him, refusing to be stored away.
His door bursts open, revealing Noah Stilinski sprinting in as Stiles continues to shout, barely stopping to inhale.
His dad jumps on his bed behind him, wrapping an arm around his son. Stiles grabs at the arm, unaware it’s his dads as Noah holds him tightly, keeping his thrashing son as still as possible, calming him down. Stiles’ screams get higher pitched with terror.
In real time, Mitch’s beathing speeds up despite his desperate attempts to control it.
“Hey, hey, hey.” Noah speaks softly into Stiles’ ear as Stiles keeps thrashing and yelling, albeit lessening the longer his dad is here. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
His dad seems to have snapped out of his state at the sound of his own voice and he notices the vice grip Mitch has on his hand, looking down at it then towards his face. He must release that Mitch is struggling to breathe properly, because he wordlessly brings their interlocked hands towards his chest, pressing Mitch’s hand under his own against his chest, and takes slow, deliberate breaths.
Mitch finds himself involuntarily copying the rhythm of his dad’s breathing, face still locked on the screen as his past-self continues to scream, his current-self’s face showing no emotion whatsoever.
He senses his dad’s worried stare but ignores it.
Stiles screams are still tearing out of his throat, turning slightly into sobs. We see Stiles holding onto his dad’s arm for comfort, looking horror-struck, but now aware he’s safe. He has tears streaming down his cheeks.
The room sits in a tense silence, the only sound being ragged breathing and the occasional whimper coming from Minnow. Clyde has her pulled into his arms now, rubbing a hand down her back comfortingly.
Finally, Newt breaks the quiet. “Tommy,” he breathes, voice cracking. “Are—that was—God.”
“It’s okay,” Mitch reassures, never breaking his stare at the TV.
“I—I never assumed it was anything like that,” Scott adds, strained.
“Thomas, that was—I mean, I never would’ve thought that was a dream… It looked so real.” Minho speaks, voice slightly muffled from the hand still clasped over his mouth.
“I know,” Mitch says. “That was the problem.”
“Mitch…” Irene starts.
“It’s okay,” he interrupts.
“It’s not—” Newt begins, before getting interrupted.
Minnow has turned around fully, resting her knees on the sofa and arms resting on the back of it to look at Mitch, tears leaking from her eyes. She hiccups, “J—Joel,”
Mitch finally looks away from the screen, taking note of the young girls’ appearance. The sound of her voice – how hurt it had been – hits Mitch somewhere deep in his core, the worry for the girl taking over his fear. He inhales sharply, taking note of everyone staring at him through troubled eyes, and settles his gaze on Minnow.
And all of a sudden, he can breathe again. He’s not a shell of a person anymore, because Minnow needs him, and he has to help her. He can feel his chest tighten, but not with panic, instead, it’s squeezing with worry for this little girl. This little girl who cares deeply for him, and just got him back. His mind recognised someone he loves’ distress and snapped itself out of the fear-stricken state it created to help them. And that’s what he’s going to do.
Of course, it’d be the ten-year-old to save him from his mind. “Minnow, it’s okay, I’m okay now,” he speaks, looking at her with concern, voice no longer void of emotion.
She tears up again, crawling over the couch to jump into Mitch’s arms. She wraps her little legs around his hips and her arms circle around his neck, pulling him in close. He lets go of his dad’s hand in favour of wrapping his arms around her, face mushed against her neck.
“Y—you sounded so scared,” she whispers, “I wanted to help you, but I couldn’t.”
“I know,” he mutters back. “But you’re helping me now. I’m all better after one of your hugs.”
Minnow pulls back and smirks at him, tears slowing. “Obviously! My hugs are the best.”
Mitch nods, a small smile taking hold of his face, the fondness ridding him of the fear completely. “Obviously,” he agrees.
Then, she gets serious again, furrowing her brows with a determined expression. “If you ever need a hug again, just say, okay?”
Mitch nods back, matching her seriousness. “Got it,”
She smiles a small smile at him, then runs past Newt and Minho’s chair, back to her and Clyde’s at the front.
When Mitch looks back, the screen has faded to black, and he is left with the stares of those around him. They are a mix of fond and worried, but he supposes there’s not much he can do about them worrying for him anymore. It’s kind of nice; knowing that he has people who care.
“When did you get good with kids, shank?” Minho asks, face pulled into a half-assed smirk.
Mitch shrugs. “Minnow is a special case,”
So was Chuck, he thinks.
When the screen begins to light up again, he takes a deep, steadying breath and the sound directs everyone’s attention back to the TV, albeit hesitantly. Everyone apart from Newt, who continues to look at him with the deepest, most caring expression. Mitch’s heart squeezes.
“Tommy, if you ever need anything, just ask. An ear to listen, a distraction, some company, a hug,” he adds with a teasing smile, “anything at all, just ask me, okay?” He finishes, before hurriedly adding, “or Minho! Or anyone, at all, really. I just mean—talk to someone, yeah?”
Mitch smiles at him, and it’s not a placating or reassuring one, this time it’s fond. “Okay. Thanks, Newt.”
It’s dark in the room, and there’s really no way to be sure, but Mitch could swear he saw a faint blush blossoming on the blonde’s cheeks before he looked back at the screen.
Must’ve been a trick of the light.
It’s day time. Stiles is hastily shoving books in his school bag, stopping once he notices something.
We are shown the book Stiles is looking at, noticing we cannot understand anything it says. Stiles eyes squint in an attempt to make sense of the words, but he realises he can’t.
The atmosphere in the room turns cold, and Mitch can hear multiple people take sharp inhales.
“Are you—still dreaming?” Minho asks, not looking away from the screen.
“No,” Mitch answers, and those who inhaled release deep, relieved breaths.
Then, they all get confused again.
“Then how—?" Clyde starts but cuts himself off, unsure on how to finish.
Mitch fights the urge to sigh. “You’ll find out,”
Noah walks into the room through the doorway behind Stiles, leaning against it. “Hey.” He calls, causing Stiles to twist around to look at him. He looks at his son, concerned. “You alright?”
Beside him, Mitch can faintly see his dad frown at the screen – it’s not troubled, more just off-put. He clearly doesn’t like seeing himself on screen. Mitch thinks he should get some perspective, since all his son’s traumas are about to be revealed.
Stiles looks back down at the book, and we can now make sense of the words as they have returned to English. Stiles looks around, confused.
His expression on-screen matches everyone’s off-screen.
“You ready for school?” Noah presses, wanting an answer out of his son.
Stiles drops the book into his bag, replying, “yeah, yeah, I’m good.”
Noah looks at his boy, eyebrows tilting upwards in worry. We can see he is clearly concerned for Stiles. He tilts his head, knowingly.
Newt and Minho smile sadly at the relationship between a father and son. Mitch’s heart aches for them as they were never rewarded with their memories and will never know about their families.
His mind drifts to Chuck and how the young boy had confided in him about his thoughts about his parents, and a sad, small, and fond smile gently takes hold of his face. The kid had been like his younger brother, the sibling he never knew he needed. He’d do anything to change how things went down when they did. He thinks if he were here, Scott would’ve loved him.
“Dad, seriously, I’m fine. It was just a nightmare.” Stiles assures, looking a little out of it. “What’s that?” He asks, deflecting.
Noah looks down at the large, black box he is carrying. “That’s just, uh, files from the office.”
“There’s no doubt that’s your father, kid,” Clyde muses, noticing the similarities between the two in personality.
Mitch snorts while his father sends a mildly offended glance Clyde’s way.
Stiles looks sceptical. “It says ‘Sheriff’s station, do not remove’.”
“Well, yeah, unless you’re the Sheriff.” Noah snarks.
“The sarcasm runs in the family then?” Irene comments, glancing between the father and son.
Mitch simply nods his head one, singular time.
“Oh.” Stiles nods, finding the statement fair enough.
“Now get your butt to school, alright?” Noah says, much like what he said in Stiles’ dream, before walking away.
Noah winces at how he had said the same thing as in his son’s nightmare. Mitch reaches up to squeeze his shoulder one time, before letting his hand drop back to the couch: his own way of confirming that it’s okay.
Stiles gestures with his arms, then turns back towards his bag, finishing packing.
The next scene we see starts with Scott walking across the high school’s campus. He frowns as if something is wrong, slowly turning around, only to reveal that his shadow has taken the shape of a big, hairy, alpha werewolf.
“It’s me!” Scott speaks, a bright smile on his face before it morphs into one of discomfort and scepticism, “it’s me…”
“Pretty weird, huh?” Mitch smirks.
“Yeah… I don’t think I’m gonna get used to that,” Scott admits, still scowling at his on-screen self.
Minnow pipes up, cheerfully, “I’m excited for when I come on!”
“I bet you are, kiddie,” Clyde teases fondly, ruffling the girls’ hair as she bats his hand away from her head, yelling indignantly.
He stares at it, shocked for a second, before we see him running down the stairs, panicking, trying to escape his own shadow.
“Did Growly get possessed too, then? Since he was hallucinating and all that jazz,” Stan queries, using his earlier nickname for Scott.
Scott frowns at the name used, before responding, “…No. Since me, Allison and Stiles, all sacrificed ourselves, we all had symptoms afterwards for a little while. The nogitsune took Stiles’ state as an opportunity to get inside his head without him noticing and blending in with us. When our symptoms stopped, and his got worse, as well as… other evidence, we knew something was wrong.”
Mitch raises his eyebrows, “wow, Scott. How did you figure all that out?”
Scott smiles sheepishly, “when you first went missing, I tried to understand everything that went on to see if we’d missed anything and if it’d lead us anywhere. It, uh, it didn’t. Obviously.”
Mitch huffs, fond and a little heartbroken at how much effort Scott had put in to find him. “Well, I’m here now, okay?”
Scott smiles back, “yeah,”
He bumps into someone’s hand – someone that happens to be Stiles – and stares at them with fear.
“Hey, hey! You alright?” Stiles asks, keeping his hands on Scott’s jacket, face twisted into concern.
Scott looks at Stiles with fear, huffing as he catches his breath. He seems to debate his answer, before hesitantly nodding.
“What is it with you two and hiding things from each other?” Noah sighs, exasperated.
Scott answers immediately, “in my defence, I didn’t usually. I think I just didn’t want to add any more stress on Stiles’ shoulders after he just got you back.”
Mitch scowls at him, light-heartedly. “Way to throw me under the bus,”
“Sorry, dude!” Scott smiles, unapologetic.
Stiles looks at him, concerned and sceptical all at once. His head tilts as he says, “well, you don’t look alright, Scott.”
“Why’d you get so oblivious after you came up the Box, greenie? Where were these observation skills when you needed them?” Minho smirks, tilting his head teasingly at him.
Defensively, Mitch responds, “I have known Scott basically all my life, man. When I met you guys, I was in a strange place, with strange people, who used strange words. Cut me some slack.”
Newt snorts and Minho raises his hands, surrendering.
Scott releases a breath, avoiding eye contact as he replies, “I’m okay,”
“No, you’re not.” Stiles denies almost immediately. Scott looks taken aback at his best friend as Stiles continues with a face of certainty. “It’s happening to you too. You’re seeing things, aren’t you?”
Scott looks bewildered at how Stiles figured that out. “How’d you know?”
“Gee, I wonder,” Minho mumbles.
Scott scowls, “I didn’t know about his dreams then, okay, dude? Get of my case,”
Mitch hasn’t really considered the fact his friends may not get along until now, but he feels like he should have. Minho is a very bold, sassy, self-assured asshole and Scott won’t take well to any remarks he’ll no doubt make towards him or his friends. Scott is an oblivious, easily angered, self-indulgent asshole, and Minho won’t be afraid to tell him so. Scott would usually accept any comments made from Mitch, but from Minho? A stranger? He won’t take well.
That could be a problem.
Newt will probably get along with everyone, as he usually does, but he might have some problems with Stan when he begins to make the unnecessary comments he usually does. And, if Scott and Minho are arguing, Newt will defend Minho like his life depends on it if he’s still the same as he was when Mitch left.
Clyde and Minnow will have no problems. In fact, Minnow will probably win the hearts of everyone in the room – bar Stan – by the end of this.
His dad will immediately pick a fight with anyone who so much as looks at Mitch the wrong way, so Mitch feels like he and Stan will have a few moments as they progress. He’ll take a liking to Newt and Minho as Mitch’s friends, and Mitch thinks that he and Clyde could be friends if they tried.
Irene will be neutral with everyone, as usual. Stan… well, Stan will have problems with everyone who gets protective of Mitch. Which happens to be the whole room. Mitch even thinks that Minho and Scott would form an alliance to go after Stan if it came to it. God, this could be disastrous. He really hopes it won’t come to that.
“How did you even hear that?” Minho asks, sighing.
“Werewolf, remember? Super hearing.” Scott informs in a deprecating manner.
“Actually,” Irene interrupts before the tension can increase anymore. Mitch almost lets out a relieved sigh but holds back. “What sort of abilities come with being a... werewolf?”
Scott glances at Mitch, looking for confirmation that this lady is trustworthy, and when he nods, Mitch’s best friend answers, “I can do my beta-shift—that’s what I did when I showed your… friend that werewolves are real—, I can hear things really far away, smell things way more intensely, I’m stronger—like way stronger—than any human, I can heal super fast, um, I think that’s it?”
Irene hums, absorbing the information. Mitch finds that a little intimidating.
“When he says he has advanced hearing and smelling, he’s underselling himself. He can literally hear everyone’s heartbeat right now, and he can smell emotions,” Mitch adds. He has never gotten over how cool it is that is best friend is a literal werewolf.
Newt looks unusually discomforted when Scott sends a knowing glance his way. Mitch wonders what that’s about. Maybe Scott can smell any remaining parts of the Flare in Newts blood?
“Not all emotions,” Scott corrects. “Just, like, the basic ones. Like fear—it’s a sour, pungent smell. Anger is kind of… hot? I don’t know how to describe it; the rhythm of the heartbeat usually helps out with that one. Love is—well, it’s sweet, honey-like, and rose-y—heartbeat adds to that as well. Arousal is the same but a little spicy too…” He takes in the looks Mitch and his dad are sending him. “And, you didn’t need to know that last part—okay! Um, can we just—” he gestures helplessly to the screen.
When Mitch looks back at it, he can see Newt and Minho stifling their laughs at Scott’s floundering.
“He can also tell if you’re lying,” Noah points out, taking over from Scott. “He can hear an uptick in your heartbeat.”
Mitch hears Stan murmur something to Irene, but he can’t quite make out the words. When he turns to Scott for help, the werewolf is already looking at him with a frown. Mitch decides to leave it and focuses his attention back on the screen.
Stiles looks away from Scott’s gaze, fidgeting as he recalls his hallucination and dream that morning. He looks back to Scott, about to answer, before he hears two sets of footsteps behind him, twisting around to reveal the girl in his dream – Lydia – and Allison.
Mitch watches as Newt frowns faintly at the screen when Lydia and Allison show up. He wonders what that’s about.
The redhead comes to a stop before answering Scott’s question, “because it’s happening to all three of you.”
Stiles and Scott look at each other – Scott’s gaze questioning and Stiles’ gaze slightly sheepish.
The scene switches and we see all four teenagers walking through double doors, Lydia leading the group.
“Well, well, look who’s no longer the crazy one,” she says, looking delighted.
“’No longer’?” Clyde repeats, confused. “Was she crazy before?”
“Lydia is a banshee; she is literally a harbinger of death. She gets these, kind of, signs? Whenever someone is about to die—like hearing things, or sometimes seeing things, that the victim is experiencing. She’ll scream really, really loudly to get better knowledge of whoever is about to die and will scream when they do die.” Scott explains, rendering Mitch very impressed, once again.
“She gave us all a spark of hope when Stiles vanished,” his dad adds, smiling sadly at him. Mitch returns the expression.
“We’re not crazy.” Allison argues.
Lydia turns around sharply, looking at the other three following behind her. “Hallucinating? Sleep paralysis? Yeah, you guys are fine.” She says, voice dripping in sarcasm.
Minho snorts.
Mitch takes a moment to wonder if he and Lydia would be friends. They’d either get along perfectly and be an unstoppable duo with a young Minnow in training, or their personalities would clash completely, and they’d be arguing non-stop.
Stiles just rocks backwards on his feet, accepting the allegation.
Scott begins to speak, “we did die and come back to life. It’s gotta have some side effects, right?”
The bell rings, signalling the beginning of their first class. The teenagers look around.
“We keep an eye on each other, okay?” Stiles says, clapping his hands, and rubbing them before pointing at the redhead. “And Lydia, stop enjoying this so much.” He adds, walking away.
Newt smirks, “there’s the Tommy we all know and l—” he cuts himself off. “Uh, we all know…”
Minho covers his face with his hands, groaning quietly. Mitch just looks at them, confused.
He completely misses the smirk that Scott sends to Newt, having picked up on his accelerated heartrate.
Lydia looks up at the ceiling, pretending to be innocent. “What?”
The next scene begins with Stiles and Scott standing at a row of lockers, Stiles busy working on unlocking his own while Scott suggests, “maybe we need a little more time to get back to normal?”
Stiles sighs, replying, “yeah, try not to forget we hit the reset button on a supernatural beacon for supernatural creatures. Think there’s a pretty good chance of things never going ‘back to normal’.”
“You’re acting very tough for someone who freezes up when he sees a boulder snail,” Minnow comments, turning to look at Mitch pointedly.
Mitch thinks that’s kind of unfair. “I thought it was going to eat me or something. Clyde didn’t exactly ease my fears,”
Everyone who doesn’t understand look at them all with concern, a little fear, and confusion. Minnow and Clyde look at each other and chuckle. Mitch sighs.
Scott looks away, rolling his eyes in agreement, “yeah,”
We see a close up of Stiles’ face as he continues to struggle with his padlock, shaking it. When the view switches to the actual lock, we see that where the numbers should be is now replaced with odd symbols. He trails his finger over it, clearly confused.
“What...?” He mumbles to himself, tilting his head as if to look closer at it.
The light atmosphere dampens when everyone notices the distressed boy on screen still having trouble with reading.
Newt and Minho cast quick, almost unnoticeable glances Mitch’s way, silently checking on him. Little do they know; Mitch is a trained assassin, and he notices them doing it anyway. He chooses to ignore it though, no point in engaging in a pointless conversation.
Scott looks away, catching a conversation between the new girl in his history, Kira, talking to his professor, her dad. They make eye contact, Kira letting a small smile slide onto her face, before Scott averts his eyes, leaning heavily on the lockers next to him.
We see his eyes begin to glow a familiar red as his breathing gets shallower, meanwhile, Stiles’ lock has reverted back to numbers and he heaves a relieved sigh, looking over to his best friend.
“Does that happen every time you see a chick, or…” Stan asks, obviously looking to get a reaction.
One thing about Stan that Mitch has picked up on is that he needs to have knowledge. He never rushes into anything without sufficient information on the mission, he never acts spontaneously if a plan goes haywire, and he never stands in a room with a potential enemy without all their details memorised.
Stan doesn’t seem to have ruled out Scott as a threat yet. He’s still wearied over his enhanced senses because that means that Stan has little to no information about him, doesn’t know what he is fully capable of, and is at a severe disadvantage. If Scott were an enemy, Stan would go down fairly quick, no matter how hard he fought.
Mitch thinks that Stan is attempting to anger Scott – or at least see how far he can bend before snapping – to understand how he thinks more.
If Scott is the same person Mitch was taken from, then Stan shouldn’t have that hard of a time getting him mad. He’ll have control over his shift, but Scott had a thin line of patience even before he was bitten.
So, Mitch turns around to glare at the man. He knows Stan won’t likely take any advice Mitch has into consideration, but it’s worth a shot. He sees Irene’s hand already tightly gripping Stan’s forearm and she is looking at him, sternly shaking her head. At least one of his superiors has common sense.
Mitch turns back around and mutters under his breath so nobody but Scott can hear, eyes trained on the screen, “no matter what he says, don’t react. He just wants more info on you—it’ll be a waste of everyone’s time, and it’ll start a completely irrelevant argument.”
In the corner of his eye, Mitch sees Scott’s head, past his dad’s, nodding.
Scott ignores Stan’s quip.
Once he catches sight of him, however, his face twists into one of shocked panic. “Woah, dude, your eyes.”
Scott looks back at him, confused and slightly panicked. “What about them?”
“You two would be lost without each other, huh?” Clyde huffs, fondly. “I know Joel was certainly a mess when I met him.”
Mitch glares half-heartedly at the old man. “I wasn’t that bad—”
“Yes, you really were.” Minnow interrupts, not even willing to hear him out.
“Awe, dude!” Scott coos, looking at him happily. “I was lost without you too!”
Now, Mitch just rolls his eyes. “Shut up, man,”
Scott turns back to the screen, still smiling to himself like an idiot.
“What about them? They’re starting to glow.” Stiles rushes out, looking around for any potential viewers.
“What, you mean, like, right now?” Scott asks in incredulous shock.
“Yes, right now! Scott, stop!” Stiles says. “Stop it!”
Newt snorts, “I think he was trying already, Tommy,”
“Yeah, I got that,” Mitch replies, sighing. Why does he feel like he’s being ganged up on by everyone in the room?
Scott looks down, breathing speeding up. “I can’t—I can’t control it,” he huffs, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes from the students in the corridor.
Stiles quickly checks behind him before instructing, “okay, just keep your head own, look down,” while directing Scott’s head to the floor and slinging an arm around him, practically dragging Scott’s stumbling body to the nearest classroom.
“I can’t, I can’t—” Scott breathes, sucking in aggressive inhales as he messily shrugs his jacket off as soon as they are inside a classroom.
“A panic attack?” Irene asks, trying her best to understand.
Scott shakes his head, “no. I was just struggling to stop myself from turning into a werewolf in the middle of school. I usually have control, but I had recently lost my anchor and… it was slipping,” he admits.
“What’s an ‘anchor’?” Minnow wonders aloud.
“It’s like… my pillar of control. Something I can think of to remind myself of my humanity.” Scott answers.
Mitch is just glad Scott is here, so he doesn’t have to do all the talking.
Stiles moves to follow him, but Scott stops him, leaning on a table as he lifts a – now clawed – hand up to stop his best friend. “No, no, get back! Get away from me!” He all but growls, voice suddenly gravelly.
“Whoa,” Minnow gapes, “that is so cool.”
Scott smiles shyly at the praise. “Thanks,”
“Scott, it’s okay,” Stiles says in his most convincing tone, but it falls on deaf ears as Scott stumbles further into the classroom, heaving growled breaths as he attempts to control himself.
“I don’t know what’s gonna happen, get back!” He yells, now panicked in case he ends up hurting the other boy with him. His teeth are now fanged.
The room is silent as everyone gets a look at certain aspects of Scott’s beta form. Some seem to be looking on with awe (Minnow and Minho), others just seem curious (Newt, Clyde, and Irene), and one singular person looks burdened (Stan).
Stiles stops approaching, now looking on in concern as Scott gathers himself into a standing position. He brings his hand up and curls his fingers inward, stabbing into his palms with the sharp claws, groaning.
The mood turns sombre at the fact that Scott had to resort to hurting himself to keep in control. The sight of his best friend falling to his knees in pain that he brought to himself had been something that hurt Mitch’s heart – it still does.
Blood drips down his arm, onto the floor as he sucks in his breathes through clenched teeth. An animalistic growl tears out of his throat as he fights against his transition.
Stiles faces his friend, clearly extremely worried. Scott drops to his knees, claws still digging into his hands as his transition finally passes, eyes fading back to a deep brown, fangs receding. He stumbles onto the floor, huffing as he catches his breath, looking at the state his hands are now in.
Stiles shoulders off his back, now in the clear, and makes his way over to his friend slowly, as to not startle him. He crouches next to Scott, who is still trying to catch his breath.
“You’re a good friend, kid,” Clyde notes, smiling.
Mitch disagrees. He stabbed Scott, killed Allison, got so many people killed in the Maze, couldn’t save Chuck, couldn’t save Winston, couldn’t keep Minho from being taken by WCKD, couldn’t help Newt in time. Mitch doesn’t think he’s a very good friend at all, so he stays silent; neither accepting nor denying the statement.
He ignores his dad looking at him with an uneasy expression.
“Pain makes you human.” Scott explains, voice cracking.
“This isn’t just in our heads,” Stiles concludes. “This is real.” After a moment he confesses, “it’s starting to get bad for me too. I’m not just having nightmares; I’m having these dreams where I literally have to scream myself awake. And sometimes I’m never actually sure if I’m ever actually waking up.”
“I’m glad you talked to someone about it, kiddo,” his dad admits, smiling sadly at him. “Even if it wasn’t me.”
“I would’ve told you, dad,” Mitch confirms, “but I just got you back, and you didn’t need any more stress added on.”
Now his dad just looks sad. “You are worth far more than my mental health, okay, son?”
Mitch, once again, disagrees, as his dad’s health and happiness is the most important thing in the world to him, but choses to go along with it. “Okay, dad,” he whispers.
Scott looks at him in worry, hands covered in his own dried blood. “What d’you mean?”
Stiles looks down, “you know how you can tell if you’re dreaming? You can’t read in dreams. More and more, these last few days, I’ve been having trouble reading. It’s like I can’t see the words, I can’t… put the letters in order.”
Only when they hear it put like that do the people in the room understand how throwing that would be.
“You’d have no way of knowing if you were still dreaming,” Irene murmurs.
“Yeah,” is all Mitch replies with, voice low.
“Like, even now?”
Stiles looks around the classroom, standing up and attempting to read anything on the walls, but it all looks like gibberish. His eyes widen as he stares at the walls, “I can’t read a thing.”
“Shit, dude,” Minho speaks, frowning.
Scott nods along with Minho’s statement. “Seeing it for myself… man, I don’t know how you weren’t constantly freaking out.”
“I was,” Mitch admits quietly, a tired expression taking over.
Those on either side of him glance at him worriedly.
The screen shuts to black, suddenly.
The next scene starts with the school bell ringing obnoxiously as Stiles makes his way into the classroom. He walks over to his usual seat, stopping in front of at when he notices that it’s already occupied.
“Hi, sorry, I usually sit there,” he informs, gesturing to the table with the books he’s carrying.
The memories of this particular dream (? Could he call it that? Scott said he wasn’t actually sleeping, after all) fill his mind and he has to actively hold in his sigh, knowing that the room will be filled with concerned glances, and panicked expressions once again.
The woman says nothing, only looking at him in annoyance as she signs something with her hands. Stiles raises his eyebrows as he watches, assuming that she must be deaf.
Scott seems to recognise the signs in an instant. “That’s—”
“Yeah,” Mitch confirms, not letting Scott finish.
Scott takes the hint and stays quiet, switching from glancing at the screen curiously, and glimpsing at Mitch worriedly.
“Okay, uh, no problem, that’s all yours.” He says, moving to find another seat.
He slumps down, resting his head on his hand as he shakes it, sighing in exasperation. He opens his book, flipping the first few pages before looking up when he notices nobody is talking.
“Are all classrooms this well behaved? ‘Cause, if they are, I’m kind of glad I’ve never been to a school. Or, at least, I can’t remember going to a school.” Minho voices, looking at the screen with furrowed brows.
“Usually it’s much louder,” Scott informs.
“Okay, so, why isn’t this one?” Minho questions, turning to stare at Scott with suspicion.
Scott pauses for a moment, pondering. “I… don’t know. I mean, this was economics, right?” He says, looking at Mitch for confirmation, and when he nods, he continues, “so, I should’ve been there. But I’m… not.”
“Keen observation skills you got there, Growly,” Stan snarks.
Scott opens his mouth to retort but catches sight of Mitch’s face. He’s trying his best to portray ‘remember what I said, don’t engage and shut up’ with his eyes, and he seems to be successful because Scott purses his lips leans back in his chair, huffing.
He clears his throat, growing wearier when he sees that nobody is moving either; all staring at the front of the class as if they are in a trance. “That’s weird,” he whispers, barely audible.
He follows the direction of their eyes to see his coach standing at the front of the room, the same trance like stare on his features as he looks at the class.
“Is this what you saw? When you…” Scott asks, trailing off to look at Mitch, awaiting an answer.
Mitch hums affirmative.
“When you, what?” Mitch’s dad asks, keeping his voice quiet as to not draw attention to any of the others.
“Uh, just this thing that happened in class.” Mitch dismisses. “You’ll see in a second.”
His dad doesn’t look pleased, but he relents.
“Hey, Coach, thought I was in the wrong class for a sec,” he speaks, glancing at the students surrounding him.
Without replying, Coach lifts his hands up and begins to speak in sign as well, hands moving fluently as if he was trained to do so. He does not blink.
The rooms atmosphere grows tense, any playfulness from earlier is immediately gone and replaced with the chilling sensation of dread.
“Uh, okay. I don’t—I don’t actually know sign language. Actually, I didn’t—I didn’t even know that you knew sign language. Or that, that was even an elective here.” Stiles says.
Coach continues to repeat the same movements over and over.
Absently, Mitch wonders if either Stan or Irene can understand sign language. He knows that Stan is fluent in hand signals, but whether he can use his hands to communicate with a normal person and not a trained assassin is a mystery to Mitch. Somehow, Irene seems like the type to know it.
Stiles audibly swallows, “well, this has been good, I’m probably gonna, uh, head out.”
Stiles gathers his things, standing up to leave the class. Coach follows his movements, making sure that his hands are visible to Stiles at all times. Stiles watches him as he passes wearily.
Mitch feels Newt rest a resistant hand over his wrist, pressing on his pulse-point, much like what he’d done to the blonde before. Newt’s touch lets him momentarily forget about what is being shown as he focuses on the warmth it provides; a reminder that he is not alone in this, that he has people who can help him.
Truthfully, Mitch finds this particular incident one of the ones he was least affected by. Sure, it had been scary at the time, but once he had been snapped out of whatever daze he was in, the fear faded relatively quickly. Still, he is thankful for Newt’s silent reassurance.
When he turns around, however, he catches sight of the whole class now joining in on the movements. All at the same time, all now staring directly at him. They speed up, movements becoming more frantic as they attempt to communicate with Stiles.
Newt’s grip tightens on his wrist and Mitch can hear sharp inhales of breath throughout the room. His dad’s hand has found his own and is gripping him like he might be torn away at any moment. Mitch squeezes back, with less strength behind it, to ease his dads’ troubles. He is rewarded with his father’s hand loosening considerably, and Mitch can feel his blood flow return to normal.
We hear a high-pitched ringing noise as Stiles stumbles, breathing heavily with sweat building up on his forehead. He lifts his hands to his ears, dropping his book as he trips backwards, clearly panicked and disorientated.
His fathers hand tightens again, the sight of his son so distressed clearly affecting him. Newt’s hand squeezes his wrist and Mitch isn’t sure if he’s doing it to comfort himself or Mitch.
The screen suddenly cuts to Stiles jolting upright, breathing out a stressed, “hah,” as he begins to focus on the present. He still has sweat built up and is wearing the same clothes as before.
It’s as if the whole room exhales a relieved breath once the moment is over.
Coach is seen, blowing his whistle. He is no longer in a trance, his expression stern as he yells, “Stilinski!”
Stiles heaves in his next breaths, trying to calm himself while he responds, “uh huh?”
“I asked you a question.” Coach speaks.
“Oh,” Minho hums, a realisation falling on him. “I can see how you knew something was off immediately.”
Mitch scrunches his face in confusion. “How?”
“Even from two sentences I can tell he’s not exactly a quiet person, Tommy,” Newt pitches in, looking at Mitch with fond exasperation.
Beside him, Mitch’s dad grumbles, “’not exactly quiet’ is an understatement.”
“Uh, sorry, coach, what was it?” Stiles asks, gathering his bearings.
“Oh, it was, uh ‘Stilinski, are you paying attention back there?’” Coach sasses.
“Oh. Uh, well, I am now?” Stiles tries.
“Very eloquent.” Noah states.
Mitch takes his hand back from his dad’s grip to shove his shoulder playfully. “Shut up,”
Coach sighs, pointing at the boy. “Stilinski, stop reminding me why I drink. Every night.”
A few people look at the screen with amused shock, and Mitch even heard Stan exhale through his nose in a way that indicates he found Coach funny. Suddenly, Mitch has newfound respect for the teacher, as making Stan laugh is a tough accomplishment. Well, maybe laugh isn’t the right word.
“Should a teacher be saying that? To a student?” Minnow asks, pointing at the screen.
Scott huffs a laugh, “probably not. But Coach makes his own rules.”
Stiles huffs out a last breath as coach picks on someone else, fidgeting when he notices Scott’s concerned gaze on his face. “I’m okay, I just fell asleep for a sec.” He consoles, grabbing his pen.
Mitch notices both his dad and Newt frown at his obvious dismissal of his panic.
Scott continues to stare, worry very vivid on his face. “Dude, you weren’t asleep.”
“What...?” Minho mumbles. “How—so, did that actually happen?”
“No,” Scott answers simply, refusing to explain any further.
Minho glares at him out of the corner of his eye, aware and uncaring of the fact that Scott can sense his frustration either way.
Scott’s gaze trails down to Stiles’ notebook and, confused, Stiles looks down to it. His eyes widen and his eyebrows furrow when he sees he has been scribbling “wake up” in several different forms and several different patterns all over his, now crumpled, page.
“Oh,” his dad breathes, turning to look at Mitch sadly.
“It was so weird,” Scott speaks. “He was just in a trance, writing really intensely. He wouldn’t respond to anything.”
Hearing it like that, Mitch can understand now why Scott was so persistent about him going to visit Deaton. It didn’t help that his symptoms only got worse from there on out.
“It’s like his body was trying to snap his mind out of his weird trance, dream thing.” Minnow observes, tilting her head.
Clyde hums, acknowledging her theory. Mitch also thinks her suggestion is plausible.
He purses his lips and slams the notebook shut.
The next scene begins outside. Stiles, Scott, Lydia, Allison, and Isaac are all sat at a table, books out as they talk.
“Who’s the curly-haired kid?” Stan asks, folding his arms again.
Scott looks to Mitch, silently asking if he should tell Stan anything when he remembers Mitch’s earlier warning. Mitch subtly nods, barely moving his head so to anyone else it’d look like a twitch, avoiding looking at Scott. The guy had never really been good at subtlety.
“That’s Isaac; he’s another werewolf. He had the choice to be turned though, by our… acquaintance? Friend?” Scott fumbles for a word to describe Derek as, before sighing and correcting, “by a guy named Derek that we know. He is also a werewolf—he was an Alpha, but he gave his status up for his sister to save her life.”
“So, at this table, you have two werewolves, one— banshee?” Clyde states, looking to Scott for confirmation, and when he nods, he continues, “and two humans.”
Scott nods, “yup. One of those humans is a also werewolf hunter. But only hunts the bad ones.”
Minho actually snorts at that.
“Okay, so, what happens to a person who has a near death experience and comes out of it seeing things?” Scott starts, looking around the table for any contributions.
“And is unable to tell what’s real or not,” Stiles adds, looking at Scott causing his best friend to nod.
Allison speaks up as well, “and is being haunted by demonic visions of dead relatives.”
Everyone looks towards Mitch and Scott for answers, clearly not having expected Allisons comment. Mitch gently removes his hand from Newt’s loosened grasp and gestures for Scott to take the floor because he is not about to explain all that.
“Allisons aunt was a hunter—like the rest of her family—, but she never followed their code. She actually set Derek’s house on fire, killing his family, simply because they were werewolves. When she tried to kill Derek to finish what she started, we all helped to kill her, Derek landing the final blow.” Scott explains, wincing every time the word ‘kill’ was said.
“He slit her throat.” Mitch clarifies. “With his claws.”
His father looks at him, urgently gesturing towards Minnow. He obviously thinks that she is too young to be hearing about this, but Mitch simply shrugs, knowing that the little girl has seen enough horrors to be able to withstand it.
“Badass,” said girl comments, further proving Mitch’s point.
Isaac decides to interrupt to voice his, unnecessary, opinion. “They’re all locked up because they’re insane.”
Stiles deadpans, “hah. Can you at least try to be helpful? Please?”
“For half my childhood, I was locked in a freezer, so being helpful is kind of a new thing for me,” Isaac informs, tilting his head at Stiles.
“Woah,” Minho comments. “A lot to unpack there.”
“Isaac had an abusive piece of shit dad. He’s dead now.” Scott says, before panicking and rushing to explain, “we didn’t kill him, though! It was—he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and—”
Mitch interrupts Scott’s rushed explanation calmly, a fond smile forming on his face without his consent. “Nobody here cares that much, don’t worry, man. But for the record, we didn’t kill him.”
Stiles pulls a face. “Okay, do we—are we still milking that?”
A lot of people raise their eyebrows at Mitch’s response.
“A bit insensitive there, kid, don’t you think?” Clyde says, turning around to face him.
Mitch waves him away. “It’s how our friendship works,”
“We are still milking that.” Isaac counters, before getting interrupted by Kira – the girl Scott noticed in the corridor previously.
“Gonna freak out again, Growly?” Stan asks, condescendingly.
Scott frowns but doesn’t respond, causing Stan to release an annoyed exhale. Mitch has to fight to keep a smirk off of his face.
“Hi!” Once she notices she has everyone’s attention, she says, “hi, sorry, I couldn’t help hearing what you guys were talking about… And I think I actually might know what you’re talking about.”
They all look at her, then each other, clearly unsure of what to do or say.
Undeterred by their silence, Kira continues, “there’s a Tibetan word for it; it’s called Barto. It literally means ‘in-between state’. Eh—the state between life and death.”
“And what do they call you?” Lydia queries, eyeing up the girl, Allison following closely in-suit.
“Kira.” Scott answers for her. Kira smiles while the rest of the table give him questioning looks. When he notices them, he elaborates, “she’s in our history class.
“So, are you talking Barto in threaten Buddhism or Indian?” Lydia interrogates.
“I was right, she is too good for you.” Minnow comments.
Mitch responds, fondly, “yeah, I know,”
Lydia is too good for anyone in that stupid school, in his honest opinion.
Kira takes a seat next to Stiles as she elaborates, “Uh, either, I guess. But all the stuff you guys were just saying— all that happens in Barto. There are different progressive states where you can have hallucinations, some where you see, some you just hear. And you can be visited by peaceful or wrathful deities.”
“That is everything you three were experiencing,” his dad notes.
“Wrathful, that is. Um, what are those?” Isaac asks.
“Like, demons!” Kira smiles, unaware of the bomb she has just dropped on them all.
“Demons!” Stiles repeats, eyebrows raised as he looks away. “Why not?”
Minho chuckles, “why couldn’t you have kept that attitude with you in the Glade, huh, Thomas?”
Mitch’s smile slips a bit, before he masks his sudden change in mood. A few lifetimes of trauma will do that to you, he thinks to himself. He can’t help but wonder how his loved ones will react once they see how he acted in Stan and Irene’s universe. It’s safe to say that Scott definitely won’t be impressed.
“Hold on, if there are different progressive states then what’s the last one?” Allison questions, looking at Kira wearily.
“Death.” Kira answers, simply. “You die.”
The table look at each other, Stiles nodding along with Kira like she hasn’t just told them that they are doomed.
“Shit,” Minho mumbles again, Newt nodding along with him.
We see Deaton – the towns vet – walking through the veterinary reception area with Stiles and Scott close behind. He seems to be trying to make sense of the information Stiles has just dropped on him.
“And this is…” Stan trails off, waiting for an answer.
Scott pipes up, “our town vet, Deaton. He helps us with all our supernatural stuff. He’s always kind of cryptic but super knowledgeable.”
Minho and Clyde both let out surprised laughs at that.
“You—a werewolf—go to the vet?” Minho teases, barely holding in his laughter.
Scott frowns but says nothing. Mitch smiles fondly at him, his own way of conveying the fact that Minho isn’t trying to be mean, it’s just how he is. He hopes he gets his message across.
“It sounds like your subconscious is trying to communicate with you,” he says, eyebrows furrowed as he continues to ponder.
“I was right!” Minnow exclaims.
Clyde rubs her head fondly, messing up her tangled hair even more. “Yes, you were, kid. Good job.”
Minnow beams at him.
“Well, how do I tell my subconscious to use a language that I actually know?” Stiles asks as he and Scott follow the older man into the back of the building.
“Do you remember what the sign language looked like?” Deaton asks, turning to face both boys. “The placement and the movement of the hands?”
Scott’s eyes widen in mild surprise. “You know sign language?”
Mitch rolls his eyes, “he knows everything.”
Beside him, Newt laughs through his nose. Mitch tries his best not to preen at that.
“I know a little,” Deaton corrects, shifting his eyes back to Stiles. “Let me give it a shot.”
Stiles lifts his hands as he tries to recall the memory. “Okay, the first move was like this—” he says, pointing his index finger on one hand and circling around it with his other hands index.
“That’s ‘when’,” Deaton nods.
“Then there was this twice,” Stiles continues, putting both hands next to each other, facing away from him, pulling one away from the other, and then putting it back again.
“That’s ‘door’,” Deaton confirms again, squinting his eyes sceptically.
“And then there was this in-between that,” he finishes, curling all his fingers on one hand into a fist, then swiping his thumb from under his chin and forward until his hand is in front of his face.
Deaton frowns, “that’s it?”
“Yeah,” Stiles nods, fearful anticipation clear on his face.
“When is a door not a door.” Deaton says, translating the sign language.
“What.” Stan grumbles. “Some subconscience you’ve got, Rapp.”
Mitch lets his head fall back against the couch, before pulling it upright again. “It makes sense, just watch.”
“When is a door not a door?” Stiles repeats, incredulously.
Scott frowns, coming to a realisation. “When it’s ajar.” He answers.
“You’re kidding me. A riddle?” Stiles speaks, clearly not impressed. “My subconscious wants to tell me a riddle?”
Noah reaches up to affectionately rub at Mitch’s head just like he always did, and Mitch tries to push down the bubble of happiness that rises from the action. He stops after a second, resting his hand on top of Mitch’s head.
“Your hair’s gotten longer, kid,” he states, smiling.
“Yeah, well. It’s been two years,” Mitch says as an explanation.
His dad just shoves his head away playfully and Mitch smiles softly to himself. God, he missed his dad.
“Not necessarily,” Deaton interrupts. “When the three of you went under the water, when you crossed from unconsciousness to a kind of—super-consciousness, you essentially opened a door into your minds.”
“Okay, what does that mean? That—the door is still open?” Scott voices, confused.
“Ajar.” Deaton nods.
Stiles, still feeling suspicious, repeats, “a door. Into our minds.”
“I’m with Rapp on this one, it sounds like a reach.” Irene speaks, face hinting absolutely nothing on how she feels.
“Well, he was right. Also, not the most insane thing that’s happened to me.” Mitch replies, pursing his lips.
Irene says nothing in response.
“I did tell you it was risky,” the older man reminds.
“What do we do about it?” Scott asks, looking determined.
Deaton squints. “Well, that’s… difficult to answer.”
“No, wait a sec, I know that look.” Stiles points a finger at Deaton. “That’s the ‘we know exactly what’s wrong with you but have no idea how to fix it’ look,”
Minho looks like he’s going to ask, before he thinks back to Mitch’s previous statement and says, “’cryptic’, right. I see now.”
Deaton ignores him, continuing on. “One thing I do know, is that leaving an opening like that into your mind? It’s not good. You each need to close that door. And you need to do it as soon as possible.”
Stiles swallows nervously, wide eyed. Scott turns to look at him with worry for Stiles, himself, and Allison.
The screen fades to black.
The room is silent for a few moments, before Minho speaks up, “did the vet also create these video things? Because that ending was also very cryptic.”
He is rewarded with a snort from Mitch’s dad and Minnow for that comment.
Suddenly, the screen brightens again, and Mitch takes a deep, heaving breath, preparing himself for whatever will be shown next.
Notes:
any questions or comments about the au, just let me know!
thanks for reading <3
Chapter 3: Teen Wolf - Season 3B, Episode 2
Summary:
His on-screen self has a panic attack and Mitch can't help but berate his past-self for his obvious display of weakness.
Notes:
this is a super short chapter, but that's only because most of the episode is focused on helping malia so there wasn't much to write about...
i hope you enjoy this chapter anyway!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The scene begins in Scott and Stiles’ history class. Scott is just taking his seat when Mr. Yukimura starts speaking, “all right, everyone, let’s get started. We were just talking about internment camps and imprisoners of war. There’s a passage in our reading that I’d like to go over in more detail. Who would like to come up and read aloud for us?”
Scott sighs, “that is always the worst part in high school. Reading aloud.”
“At least you got the chance to go to a high school,” Minnow scowls, crossing her arms over her chest.
Minho frowns thoughtfully at that, and Newt purses his lips. Mitch turns to glare at Scott. Three out of nine of the people in this room never got the opportunity to go to any school, the least Scott could do is be sympathetic towards them.
To his credit, Scott does look guilty once he catches Mitch’s gaze. “Sorry,” he apologises.
Minnow ignores him, but she does stop glaring at the screen.
Distantly, Mitch wonders why this is being shown since it doesn’t seem related to the nogitsune in any way.
When the whole class stays silent, the teacher continues, “Mr. Stilinski, how about you?”
Oh. He understands now.
Stiles looks up from where he had been distractedly clicking his pen, eyes widening. “Um, maybe—maybe someone else could?”
“Everyone participates in my class, Mr. Stilinski.”
Stiles sighs and stands up, walking over to the stand at the front of the class. He looks at the paper, every word becoming extremely blurry. He squeezes his eyes shut, inhaling deeply as he grips the stand tightly, and when he looks back at the page, the words are literally rolling off of it.
The light-hearted air in the room diffuses into a cold chill that almost makes him shiver.
“Oh, kid,” his dad breathes, turning to look over at him. He reaches for Mitch’s hand, taking it in his, and rubbing his thumb across Mitch’s palm softly. Mitch knows the action is more for his father’s comfort, rather than his own.
The action brings back memories of his mother soothing him back to sleep when he’d startle awake from a nightmare as a child. He still misses his mom, always will. He’ll always have a hole in his heart carved out for her, a void of grief and despair. He had a hole in has heart for his dad too. And Newt, and Minho, and Scott. He never thought he could feel as whole as he does currently, now that those spaces have been filled again.
“Man, that’s trippy,” Minho observes.
Newt smacks his arm, shaking his head. Minho rubs the area of impact and sends a glare back to the blonde, mouthing ‘what?’.
We see Stiles’ face contorting into one of panic as he heaves in another breath, the words still falling off the page. His eyes flutter, growing faint as he looks up at the class, the whole world shifting and fading in and out of visibility.
“Tommy, are you—” Newt starts, looking over at him, concern swirling in his deep, brown eyes.
“I’m okay, Newt,” Mitch interrupts, meeting the blondes gaze with a small smile of reassurance.
Newt’s eyes flicker between his own, searching for any hints of a lie. He seems satisfied enough with what he finds, because after a moment, his eyes widen slightly, and he turns back to face the screen abruptly, cheeks a little… pink? “’Course you are.”
Mitch feels himself pull a face full of confusion, before he stifles it and turns back to the screen himself.
Truthfully, this memory doesn’t bother him too much. It had just been overwhelming at the time and everything he hadn’t processed yet had bottled over, hitting him all at once. He really only remembers an intense feeling of panic and faint images of Scott helping him calm down. He’s sure it’ll be… interesting to see what a mess he was from another point of view.
He's still not very happy that his most vulnerable moments are being revealed to Stan and Irene of all people, his superiors.
Scott looks up just in time to notice his best friends’ discomfort, standing up and making his way over. “Stiles, you okay?”
When Stiles doesn’t answer and continues to heave panicked breaths, stumbling and clutching the stand so he doesn’t fall, Scott rushes over and gently takes hold of Stiles’ shoulders.
The teacher looks on with confusion mixed with concern. Scott suggests, “I should take him to the nurses office?”
Mitch hears his dad whisper over to Scott, “thank you. For taking care of him when I wasn’t there.”
Scott brightens, smile so intense it almost lights up the room. “Of course! He’s my brother, I’d do anything for him.”
Mitch brings one hand up to cover his mouth, forcing down the smile he feels growing on his face.
Mr. Yukimura nods his consent and both boys clumsily make their way out of the classroom, Stiles barely registering what is happening.
The scene changes and the door to the boy’s bathroom is burst open, a panicked and disorientated Stiles stumbling through, bumping into everything in his path. We see time speeding up and slowing down, our attention only on said boy as he looks around desperately, world blurred.
“Is that what it looks like when you have a panic attack?” Minnow asks hesitantly, clearly not wanting to send Mitch spiralling if he was already upset.
He’s not upset though. Honestly, these people need to stop treating him like glass—he’s had guns pointed at him, for God’s sake, he’s survived an oil rig explosion, he works for the CIA. He can handle some bad memories. He keeps this to himself for now, not wanting to take his frustrations out on Minnow.
“Yeah, it’s super disorientating,” he answers truthfully.
Minnow is quiet for a few seconds, before she quietly asks, “but you were okay?”
“Yeah, I was okay.” He confirms, leaving the ‘I’ve seen worse things’ unspoken.
In the distance, we hear Scott’s voice calling out worriedly, “hey, Stiles, talk to me, man. Is this a panic attack?”
Stiles does not respond, instead stumbling over to a mirror and gripping onto the sink below it for dear life. He continues to breathe erratically as he speaks through harsh breaths, “this is just a dream, it’s a dream, it’s just a dream,”
Mitch hears the people beside him suck in harsh breaths through their teeth, watching the screen with upturned eyebrows and parted lips. His dad grips his hand ever-so-slightly tighter.
We see Scott’s worried face reflecting in the mirror as he denies, “No, it’s not! This is real, you’re here, you’re here with me!”
Stiles briefly listens, but the panic takes over again, and his focus deteriorates. Scott continues, “okay, um, what do you do? I mean, like, how to you tell if this is—if you’re awake or you’re dreaming?”
Despite the tense atmosphere, Mitch can’t help the look of fond exasperation he shoots toward his werewolf friend. When Scott notices him staring, he double-takes, then splutters indignantly.
“I was trying my hardest, okay?” Scott defends. “I had never seen you like that before, I didn’t know what to do!”
“I know,” Mitch replies, shaking his head with a small smile as he looks back to the screen.
Scott rolls his eyes.
After that interaction, the room does feel lighter. Mitch guesses that after everyone realised that he really isn’t bothered by this scene, they began to ease up. Or maybe they just find Scott that humorous. Somehow, he doubts that.
“Fingers, you’ve—you count your fingers; you have extra fingers in dreams.” Stiles answers, face red and sweaty as he continues to inhale short, shallow breaths that don’t provide him with the air he needs. He whimpers in distress.
His dad’s hand squeezes his own further at the sound his on-screen self had made. Mitch tries to disguise wince — was he really that pathetic? It had just been a few moving words, and sure, that can be disorientating, but seriously? He had a full panic attack over this? If he had kept this mindset over the years, he’d be long gone by now. Probably wouldn’t have even made it to Ava’s colonies bunker.
Scott holds his hands up. “How—how many do I have?” He tries. “Hey, look at me! C’mon, Stiles, look at my hands and count with me.”
Stiles turns to face Scott, his face blurring in and out of focus.
“One,” Scott starts.
“That’s actually quite smart.” Irene comments.
Scott looks hesitant to accept the praise of a woman who he knows is involved with the CIA, having overheard them before any of these viewings even happened. “…Thanks.”
Mitch wonders if Scott will even want to be his friend after everything he has done in Stan and Irene’s universe. In fact, he wonders if anyone would. He hopes they’ll be able to understand his reasoning, hopes they will take his shattered heart into consideration. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses his loved ones again, this time from his own decisions.
“Two?” Stiles guesses through haggard breaths before breaking off into an upset exhale.
“Keep going!” Scott coaxes, holding up a third finger.
“Three, four,” Stiles counts, looking up to Scott, his eyes begging for help.
In his head, Mitch thanks Scott for helping him as well has he did. Scott has displayed his willingness to do anything to help his friends over and over, but seeing him do it to Mitch makes a warm sensation bubble in his chest. Somehow, seeing his best friend show that he cares from another point-of-view is just as heartwarming as it is to witness it firsthand.
“Five.” Scott finishes, looking at Stiles to see if he believes him now.
Unconvinced, Stiles continues counted and Scott quickly accommodates. “Six, seven,”
“Eight,” Scott nods.
If Scott hadn’t been there to help him, Mitch isn’t sure his past-self would’ve made it out of that bathroom without passing out. Had he seriously been that weak?
“Nine,” Stiles speaks, and when the last finger is put up, he whispers, “ten,”
He looks at both of Scott’s hands – that now hold up all ten fingers and no more – and his breathing slowly evens out as Scott repeats, “ten. Ten,”
Stiles’ breathing is controlled now as he gets his breath back, finally. He looks between Scott’s hands before falling backwards and sinking to the floor, back to the wall, hands flailing to keep his balance.
The remaining tension in the air immediately dissipates, and Mitch watches his dad, Minho and Newt all take deep, heaving breaths. He hates being the cause of their distress, but all he seems to be doing is just that.
His dad’s hand loosens in his grasp, but stays steady, unwilling to let go of his son just yet. Mitch squeezes once in an attempt at comfort, and the stilted smile sent his way says he managed to give at least a little reassurance.
He lolls his head to one side as Scott slowly kneels in front of him. “What the hell is happening to me?”
“We’ll figure it out,” Scott consols. “You’re gonna be okay,”
“Am I?” Stiles asks, not believing Scott in the slightest. His voice is broken when he continues, “are you? Scott, you can’t transform, Allison is being haunted by her dead aunt, and I’m straight up losing my mind. We can’t do this. We can’t—we can’t help Malia… we can’t help anyone.”
“Who’s ‘Malia’?” Stan asks, blunt as ever.
Scott frowns, quickly checking with Mitch to see if he should respond, and when he gets the go ahead, he answers, “Malia is a werecoyote. She was stuck in her animal form for… a while after she killed her sibling and mother. Me, Stiles and some others managed to bring her back to her human form, but she had to learn how to be a human again after spending so long as a coyote.”
Mitch remembers her from the Eichen House. He’s glad he met her there, because she helped him a lot more than any psycho in that place could’ve. But he also regrets it, because if her life hadn’t been at stake, maybe he could’ve avoided the nogitsune for a bit longer, long enough to get help.
He doesn’t regret sleeping with her though, as crude as that sounds. She was a nice girl, albeit slightly snappy but he only ever found that endearing and it made her who she was. And if he hadn’t, he’d still be a virgin currently, at eighteen. He’d be working for the CIA, and he’d have never had any action.
A horrifying thought occurs to him. If they are watching his possession, then they’ll need to see him in the basement, where he actually got possessed. The same basement he had sex in. He really, really hopes that whoever is in charge of this whole ordeal skips that part, because if his own dad and superiors see him… like that, he doesn’t think he’ll get past the embarrassment.
Pushing those thoughts aside, he knows he had a connection with her, and he can’t help but wonder how she’s getting on now.
“How is she?” He asks, tilting his head in Scott’s direction.
Scott smiles, happy to be talking about one of his good friends. “She’s good! She goes to high school, even though she is struggling a bit with the work. Her and Kira get along great. She—she was one of the most active searchers when we were looking for you, Stiles.” He admits, softly.
Mitch deliberately ignores the last part, instead choosing to focus on Malia’s new life. “I’m glad she’s okay,”
When he looks back at the screen, he notices Newt frowning in his peripheral vision. He thinks about asking if he’s okay, but his expression smooths out as soon as Mitch makes a move to turn to face him, so he just returns his focus to the screen, silently wondering.
Scott sits down on the floor, thinking about what to say. “We can try.” He settles on, nodding as he speaks, “we can always try.”
The next scene switches to nighttime. It’s pitch-black outside and all we can see is a faint outline of a figure holding a flashlight, walking towards a very large tree stump. The same tree stump in Stiles’ dream.
“That damn tree,” his dad mutters angrily.
Mitch rolls his eyes, and he hears Scott snort to himself.
There is a small plant growing from said stump, but the figures gloved hand roughly snatches it and pulls it out, dropping it to the floor.
The figure walks away, leaving the tree behind them.
“Who…?” Minho trails off, looking on in confusion.
Nobody answers him, because they don’t have answers either.
We see a lot of fireflies crawling out of the stump and flying into the night. A lot as in tens of thousands, maybe more. They all crowd around three particular spaces and then out of nowhere, black smoke forms, creating the outline of three dark figures.
“The Oni,” Scott murmurs in understanding, quietly enough that no one but Mitch and his dad hear.
Mitch nods, having picked that up as well, but he’s still stuck on who the figure that released the fireflies was. Mrs. Yukimura, maybe? Mr. Yukimura?
He doesn’t know.
The screen fades to black.
Notes:
i feel like this chapter kinda sucks but no matter what i change it stays that way lmao... hopefully the next one is better!
thanks for all the support, im so grateful for all of you! <3
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