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“Mom would’ve believed me.”
The words froze John to the spot as one of his worst fears had just been voiced by his son. How long had John worried that he would screw things up? That Stiles lost the best parent when Emily passed away, that he’d miss out on so much without his mother? Because Stiles was right, Emily would have believed him. Or at least tried to. She definitely wouldn’t have yelled at him in a hospital of all places and stormed away because she was sick of the growing distance between parent and child.
“Stiles, wait!” John turned around to see Stiles’s retreating form. He really needed to go speak with the other officers on duty, go over the FBI agents’ files, check on Deaton and see if he was ready to give a statement, and somewhere in between all that find the time to eat and sleep for a couple hours so he didn’t end up collapsing on the spot.
But this was more important. He followed Stiles down the long hallway, turning left after him back towards Cora Hale’s room and walked in behind his son before the door could close.
Stiles sat down in the chair beside the bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. “Look, Dad, if you don’t believe me fine. But could you maybe wait to yell at me when we’re at home?”
John shook his head. When had things between them grown so strained? There was a time when Stiles came to him with everything. Now they were lucky to say more than five words to each other when they happened to pass each other in the house.
“It’s not that I don’t want to believe you, Son. But the things you’re telling me - Stiles, that’s a lot to take in all at once.”
“I know, Dad. I really do. But you need to trust me on this.”
“I’m trying.”
“You need to try harder.” Stiles’s head popped up until he was staring at John with tear filled eyes. “Because I don’t want anything to happen to you. I can’t lose my dad too.”
“Son -” John rushed to Stiles’s side, dropped to his knees and hugged his son close. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
“You can’t promise me that, not with everything that’s going on.” Stiles clung to him tightly, shaking slightly.
They stayed like that for several minutes, not saying anything but still communicating a lot through touch, until Stiles pulled away and said, “do you think it’s weird we’re having a heart to heart in an unconscious patient’s room?”
John shrugged.
“So…I know you’re busy but could you maybe talk to Mrs. McCall before you leave?”
“Why?”
“I think she may be able to help you understand what’s going on. Plus -” Stiles stopped and grinned smugly at John. “I see the way you look at her.”
“What?” John got to his feet faster than his knees liked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid.”
Stiles laughed and John sighed in relief. “Of course you don’t. Because you totally don’t stop in the bathroom to check your hair before you walk by the nurses’ desk.”
‘“Stiles!”
His son laughed harder, until John was pretty sure the tears in his eyes were now from laughter instead of sorrow.
“But really, Dad, just talk to her, okay? For me?”
John nodded. “Okay. I’ll go talk to her now before my deputy tracks me down. That is, if we’re okay here.”
“Yeah, I think we are, or we will be at least.”
“Good. Are you leaving now?”
He saw Stiles look over at the pale and motionless girl on the bed. “I think I’ll stay here awhile longer.”
“Alright. But text me when you leave so I know where you are.”
“I will. And maybe you can text me after you talk to Scott’s mom? Let me know what you think?”
“Sure.” John spared a moment to look at the man his son was growing up to be and felt nothing but pride. Maybe he wasn’t doing such a bad job at this whole parenting thing after all. “Love you, Stiles.”
“I love you too, Dad,” he heard as he left the room.