voluntaryapnea | 25. Release me from this curse I'm in/I've been trying to maintain/But I'm struggling

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[Hours after being returned to the Barge, Stiles is still trying to pull his thoughts together and struggling to do so. Physically he feels fine. But every now and then he catches a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. Any time he turns to look and see who or what it is, it vanishes quickly. He wants to chalk it up to the lack of sleep at the port.

Truthfully he's worried. Fleeting as it is, he's familiar with this sensation. This things aren't quite right feeling that's settled into his chest as he goes to check on Lydia in the infirmary, and then Dean at his room.

He checks in with Kira on the network, thankful she's now awake, and then goes to check in on the still coma'd Allison. Goes to check in on Scott and Liam. He makes his rounds on the Barge, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

The feeling doesn't leave him as he grabs food from the cafeteria, sitting alone at a table because he doesn't feel like looking for someone to sit with.

Something isn't right.]

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[Scott goes looking for him; between stopping in at Kira's and seeing her wake and checking on...everyone he comes across, it's not surprising they miss each other at first. When he spots Stiles sitting alone at a table, though, he forgoes getting on line for food and instead drops into the seat adjacent from him.

There's something so old, so familiar in this, that he doesn't recognize something wrong. He just recognizes his friend, alive, looking well, and that's relief enough for him.]

Hey.

[There's an apology lurking in his voice, settled on his shoulders. For not being with him through it. The more circumstances need them in different places, the more he hates it.]

[Stiles glances up, relaxing when he sees his best friend sitting there, safe and sound. It's a relief to him, too. He even manages a small smile as he shoves his lunch tray toward Scott to share his fries.]

Hey.

[A lot happened in that port, and he doesn't really want to talk about the crap that happened in the Opera House, doesn't even want to think about how for a second he'd believed the woman lying in that bed dying had really been his mother.

So he focuses his attention on Scott, because that's easier. That's second nature.]

You doing okay? [He can already hear that apology lurking and he gives him a look. They can't always be together for these things. They're not kids anymore, they're not each other's entire worlds anymore even though Scott is pretty central to Stiles' and always will be. There are other people now to worry about, to try and help. It's why they're here.]

Yeah.

[It's the unspoken conversation he responds to more, though; the look receives a faint nod, grudging acceptance that Stiles is right. It's why they're here. So he turns his attention to the fries, taking the time to stuff a few in his mouth.]

You didn't get back to the Barge, did you? [It's not really a question; there's no way Scott would have set foot on the ship without him. Without all of them.]

[He nods in return and pops a fry into his mouth, chewing while Scott asks his question. He ignores the movement he catches a glimpse of from the corner of his eye, the way he's been ignoring it since he stepped back onto the Barge, and smiles. It's forced, but it's there nonetheless. It's the thought that counts, right?]

Neither did you. [They know each other too well.] I got separated from Dean and Lydia and we just didn't have time to get back.

[He nods, dipping another fry in ketchup mostly so he can drag it in a circle on the plate.]

Are you....

[He trails off, blinking a few times. Stiles isn't the only one who came back with something, and Scott is focusing a lot on seeing only what's really there.]

Is anything weird? Since we got back?

[Stiles grows still at the question, lifting his gaze to Scott's face and holding his breath for a moment.]

Why? Is -- uh, is something weird with you?

[His eyes are wider now.]

[Something gnaws at him - lingering questions, uncertainty, what if it's just him? - and he keeps drawing circles with the fry, eyes on the streaks of ketchup he leaves on the plate. From the corner of his eye, he can see people in fine clothes, or - clothes that used to be fine, but are torn and falling apart now. Maybe it's just him. Maybe it's all in his head, just his, and if that's the case...

He drops the fry, running a hand over his face.]

No. [It's a bad lie, but what if he's losing it? He's supposed to be strong, and steady, and not remind Stiles of the time he thought he was losing it.]

[He knows the answer to his question before Scott even utters the lie -- and yes, badly. He gives him a look, shaking his head and leaning on the table, lowering his voice.]

You're a terrible liar.

Seriously, what's going on? Are you -- [He hesitates, drops his voice even more.]

...seeing things?

[He's such a terrible liar. Scott grimaces and starts to rub at his eyes, but when Stiles finishes he freezes, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the bones in the corner of his eye.]

Are - how'd you know? Are you?

[His mouth goes dry. This isn't a coincidence. It can't be. Dean, Lydia, him. Now Scott. Everyone he knows for sure who didn't make it back to the Barge in time.]

Yeah. Just -- glimpses of movement and when I turn my head to look there's nothing and no one there. I thought...[He blows out a breath, leaving off because he knows Scott will get it from there. I thought I was losing it again.]

It's not just you.

[That, first; then he repeats it to himself: It's not just me. He lets out a long, shaky breath. For a moment he's relieved.]

What if it doesn't go away? You think the Admiral can fix it? Or one of the magic people?

[Truthfully Stiles is relieved, too, even if he feels sort of guilty for being relieved that the people he cares about are suffering.]

Yeah. I mean anytime there've been side effects from a port, they go away right? They'll go away.

[They have to go away.]

They always do. [He nods like he's positive. He's not as positive as he thinks he should be.]

I mean, in all the time I've been here - I can't think of anyone having something left over like this. Not like, permanently.

[They're bad at thinking of their friends suffering with them. They've always been better at trying to take things onto their own shoulders, but the truth is they're stronger holding burdens together. Scott smiles over at Stiles, and pops another fry into his mouth. He'll pretend he's certain until he feels it.]

[It's reassuring to hear that confirmed. Scott's been here even longer than he has, and he knows his best friend wouldn't lie about that.]

Then we'll be okay. We'll just -- ignore it until it stops.

[Sounds like a valid plan, right?

They're always stronger together than separate, even if all they ever wanted to do was protect each other.]

Yeah. Exactly. What are those things horses wear when they're racing? [He makes a motion, imitating blinders with his hands sticking out from his temples.]

We just need some of those.

Blinkers, I think. Or blinders. I think they call them both things. [Thanks, random Wikipedia spiral #89102.]

Or we could just try and sleep until it's over, but -- no. You've done enough sleeping, so no sleeping for you. [He picks up half a fry and flicks it at his best friend with a knowing look.]

[He tries to catch the fry in his teeth and just misses. No wolf powers for now. Instead he grins and snatches it off the table.]

Yeah, okay. No more sleeping. Do you think if we just lock the door and play video games for a week, it'll pass us by?

25. Release me from this curse I'm in/I've been trying to maintain/But I'm struggling

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