Was the kanima destroyed? Lydia didn’t seem to know, neither did Jackson. For what Stiles can see, Jackson is still confused, the switch from Kanima to Werewolf isn’t an easy one. As Stiles stirred them both to the Jeep, Derek continued to look at the black blood pool in the floor. They all hoped Gerard was dead, but since they didn’t have a body and the older man disappeared while Jackson got free from his hold, the battle was over. At least for now.
The old Jeep, battered from the unexpected bursting in scene, now traveled full speed to the Whittemore’s house. If Stiles had been able to grab Lydia’s cellphone faster than he did, they would probably have gone to Deaton or even Stiles own house; with Jackson’s father involved, Stiles bet they would be at the police station, blaming anyone possible, before the end of the night.
It wasn’t as if Lydia had wanted to bring any parent into the situation, even if she wished they all backed off from all the supernatural craziness, it just happened. Her brain had been telling her two different things: “call his parents, they would want to know their kid was safe” and “run,hide and then ask questions”. She may blame the adrenaline and the subsequent relief, but Stiles only managed to wank the cellphone from her hand after she dialled and got Mr. Whittemore on line, and her words of reassurance meant one thing: they had to let the adults see Jackson first.
“His dad already tried to screw me, what do you think will happen when he see me dropping his naked son at the dead of night?” Stiles asked, his eyes never leaving the road and his hands gripping the steering wheel hard.
“You are with me, they know me well enough to know anyone I trust, deserves it. And you are just dropping us off, I’ll deal with his parents.” Lydia looks to Jackson, his eyes are closed, and she wonders if he is sleeping or if something is wrong with him again.
It is a short drive, the streets are empty and Stiles feels lucky enough for not bumping into his dad or one of his deputies, while they make rounds. When they pull into the house’s driveway, both Lydia and Stiles can see David Whittemore’s silhouette passing in front of the main door, as the porch light is off. When he sees them, his steps are firm and fast as he approaches the car, his movements echo into the silent street.
“What are you doing here, Mr. Stilinski? I don’t have time for your pranks right now.”
“I’m just dropping Lydia here, you can talk to her.” Lydia rolls her eyes and gets out of the back seat, moving to meet Mr. Whittemore.
“Stiles helped me find Jackson, and we wanted to bring him here as fast as possible, instead of calling you or taking him to the hospital. If they lost him once, can you imagine what they would do to cover up their mistake, sir?” Making Stiles move out of the driver seat, Lydia tries to pull Jackson from the back seat, showing his dad how he seems to be only sleeping.
With Stiles help and Jackson’s dad guiding they manage to steer Jackson to the hall, where Mrs. Whittemore is waiting. The house is all lighten up, contrary to the darkened garden and lawn, Stiles murmurs something about rich people and their splurging, but shuts up when Jackson struggles in their grasp. It’s not in the most graceful way, but they half drag, half pull him to the beige sofa; the old ratty blanket Stiles keeps at the back of the Jeep is a stark contrast against it.
“We should take him to the hospital, what if this is only a temporary fix?” Mrs. Whittemore whispers, not looking at Jackson, but at her husband.
“I need to find out what happened first, Hannah.” As Mr. Whittemore says, he turns to Lydia and Stiles, that was already trying to reach the door to leave.
“I went to the hospital, I wanted to say goodbye and Mrs. McCall let me sneak in to see him at the morgue. I begged her and she only gave in because Scott and Stiles asked her. When I got there, she didn’t find the body and I got worried; so as she looked for his file, I sneaked out of the hospital.” Lydia pauses and looks at Stiles, her voice shaking as she tells the lies.
“Scott and I were waiting for her, we didn’t want her to stay alone. I suggested he may have woken up; there are a lot of cases in medical history of people being misdiagnosed. So we started to look for him, Scott looked near the hospital and Lydia and I started to make rounds around the city.” Stiles blurts out, eyes on his feet. “I need to go, my dad should be checking one soon.”
Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Whittemore thanks him, but Lydia smiles tightly in Stiles way, grateful for a brief moment to think. The door closes quietly and Jackson continues to look disoriented, decidedly not his normal self. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long before Mr. Whittemore starts to move, ordering his wife make an overnight bag. Afterwards she brings and help Jackson into loose pants and a t-shirt.
They take Jackson to the family car, and Lydia growls when they tell her to stay in the house or to call Stiles back to take her to her house. As if she would let Jackson go alone with them; Lydia smiles again, more ferocious, than grim, pretending not to hear and sitting by Jackson’s side. This time, she pulls him close, and he noses her cheek, before sliding and resting against her collarbone and shoulder.
The lights pass quickly, and Lydia observes how it shades Jackson face, his eyes flashing blue when the car jerks violently to the side. They don’t take the way to the ER, but move onto the highway and she knows they are taking him to L.A when Jackson’s dad takes the right turn. She hopes the doctors won’t pick up anything wrong or different with him, her head continues to spin, despite the iron grip she keeps steering her thoughts away from the events of the night.
One time, in the long drive, she thinks two wolves are running in the forest, following the car in the sidelines of the road. Derek and Peter, she thinks, Scott had gone with Allison and her dad, and Isaac was still groggy by the end. Stiles had looked at her when the Hales had demanded to take Jackson to the old Hale house, and she bullied him into taking them away; a slighting thought reaches her: in the end, her call had been more to dissuade Derek, than to call the Whittemore's.
As she closes her eyes, trying to rest before the doctors bombard her with questions , she hears the howls against the night and she curses, explaining about werewolves to Jackson’s parents will be a bitch. Unfortunately she knows they been suspicious for sometime and they won’t turn a blind eye again.
Jackson wakes up in a white room, he is alone, but he can hear Lydia trough the door, her voice high and rushed. Smells are coming from everywhere and seem to burn his nose, they are all strong chemical smells, threatening to give him a headache. It doesn’t take long for the door to open, bringing the familiar smell of Lydia’s perfume and a muskier scent that can only mean Danny.
“Do you think he will wake up soon?” Danny’s voice is very low, and Jackson opens his eyes immediately to see his friends near the door, frozen by his abrupt movement.
In his head, Jackson feels something whine and trash, wanting to tell them he is fine, that they are safe. He feels very different, this voice doesn’t scare him, doesn’t seem to come from anywhere than not him. His head, while still spinning with all the different smells coming through the door, appears to stay sharp and focused in the frantic heart beats in front of him.
“I’m...” Jackson’s voice is rough, scraping to get out of his throat.
“Do you remember what happened?” Danny says, still not looking at him, but at Lydia, daring her to tell both of them how Jackson end up in this room.
“Let Jackson rest, Danny. He still recovering, the doctor said he is weak, dehydrated and needing to rest.” Lydia’s voice comes out small, as if she doesn’t want to say anything.
No one says anything for awhile and Jackson tries to get up, sit in bed, but Lydia rushes to his side, pressing him back to lay back into the pillows. He feels fine and wants to say it, but somehow, with the way Lydia is tensing by his side, he thinks she wants him to not say anything. He almost does, a surge of anger trying to drown him, but her heart is still beating rapid like a pop song, so he tries to focus in something else.
Danny looks at them with a frown, his mind racing to understand why his friends are so tight-lipped. If he thinks to himself, not only Jackson and Lydia, but Scott, Stiles and Allison had been with their heads in something else, all of them coming and going from school, but never really paying attention to things. When he saw Jackson in the lacrosse field, dead, he wanted to scream, not understanding what had happened. Now, he isn’t sure what to think.
“Como one, Danny, let’s let him sleep. We can get back later.” Lydia stears Danny out of the door, not letting their friend say anything else.
Jackson looks up at the ceiling and breathes deeply against his wrist, trying somehow to block all the other smells, focusing only on his own scent. When he looks down, he almost falls from the bed, Derek is staring at him, as he sits in the visitors armchair. Derek has his leather jacket, faded jeans, grey t-shirt and boots; he isn’t smiling, but his smell, made of wood and dark chocolate sooth Jackson.
“Stiles called, apparently he thought you looked weird.” Derek access him, his gaze passing through him, his nose twitching.
“Stiles is weird.” Derek’s eyebrows did a funny juggling, his expression changing quickly, something Jackson wasn’t used to.
It was very weird for Jackson to see expressions beyond anger or malicious intent in his alpha face. Right now, the same voice that been whining before, kept making sounds, as if a dog was equal parts scared and angry. To Jackson’s surprise, Derek came close, pushing a hand inside of his gown, patting his shoulder. Instantly the voice calms down and Jackson looks up, trying to gauge what Derek is trying to do.
“Your wolf is agitated, I think he been suppressed all this time” Derek doesn’t spell it, but Jackson thinks he wants to say since the bite. “We’ll have to keep an eye on you, Peter thinks your wolf can be very difficult to handle at first.”
The hand leaves Jackson’s shoulder and Derek pulls back, this times hovering above Jackson, instead of sitting back at the armchair. They stare at each other, no used to having a conversation without yelling or body harm. Jackson wishes Lydia would get through the door, making both of them have this conversation another time.
“Lydia thinks she can handle everything on her own, but I’ll be checking you, leave the window open here and at your house when you get released. Peter and Isaac will watch the hospital during the day and and I’ll take nights, I want to make sure everything is over.”
The door of the room opens again, Lydia, now alone, strolls in and Derek jumps through the window, without glancing back. There is something, at the back of Jackson’s head, that tells him there is something he should remember about Lydia and Derek, but the information keeps slipping of his mind. Lydia’s hand brings him back to the room, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
“Danny went home, he is mad at me.” Jackson frowns at her, trying to understand how Danny could get mad, when he normally only gets annoyed at them. “I’m trying to keep everyone in the dark about what happened, they don’t need to know. ”
“What did happen? My head...” Jackson remembers feeling off for weeks, his head playing games with him. He remembers Derek yelling and shoving him, a lot of pain and voices in his head. There is an image of a pool somewhere and the nauseating feeling of blood.
“Just breath ok.” Lydia commands him and Jackson tries to obey her, as soon as he realizes he been hyperventilating. “We can talk after you rest, the doctor wants to keep you here for a few nights. They want to be sure everything is ok, because your dad been terrifying people with a possible lawsuit if they screw up like the hospital at Beacon did.”
“Fine.” Jackson bunches the cover in his hands, trying to focus, his mind telling Lydia isn’t trying to hide things from him.
“Sleep, Jackson, tomorrow you can ask me anything ok? I need to take a shower and sleep and just wrap my head around everything that happened.”
Something in her face makes him stop and consider what she said. Jackson doesn’t know why he is in the hospital exactly, he thinks something went wrong with the bite, a fall out of the symptoms he been feeling since he asked Derek for it. Lydia seems so scared and shaken, that he doesn’t want to make her do anything, so he settles back and let her fuss over him: she fluffs his pillow, tucks the flimsy blanket and pushes the button to have the bed unfold until it reaches the fully horizontal position.
For a few seconds he doesn’t think he can sleep, but when the light is turned off, is like his internal switch goes off too. There is, for a brief moment, a pressure inside his skull, like a dog’s paw pressing careless against its human owner, and then he is completely alone slipping into sleep.