[ mary margaret can't even find herself thinking back on that. with stiles in the room, there's another part of her that takes over. that has her leading him back to her bed and sitting him down. that has her fixing the cocoa and wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. it's the part of her she doesn't really understand, that need to fix and heal. it's mothering, she can understand it as mothering, but the fact she can't remember ever having a mother or ever having a child or any real, solid proof of this is how you do it, this is what you're supposed to do, how would she know? it's just an instinct, something that takes over the moment she needs it to - whether it's a student in class or a child in wonderland or even emma, when she's looking at mary margaret like there's nothing left.
the look on stiles' face has that feeling in high gear, and has everything else pushed away. the conversation they'd been having before he even got here had her shaking, had her battling that tightness in her chest, that burning on her hands, in her feet. when she closes her eyes she both tries to remember and tries to ignore what happened, and she can't organize her thoughts enough to know why. to know how. she tries to compartmentalize, tries to push it aside and keep going and make it feel like she can be herself, that she can get up in the morning and smile and live her day like any other. but emma's eyes still follow her, henry still comes and spends more time with her than she's sure he really wants to, and mary margaret knows its because she's not quite there. but with stiles? with stiles she can move, she can think, because she has a need to help that takes precedence over all else. she sees his eyes and she hurts, hurts more than she had since that day, maybe even more than that physical pain, because he shouldn't have to do this. he should have to deal with this.
his eyes are lost and she holds back that breaking in her ribs, the fact that all she wants to do, all she can do, is to give him this space. this time. she needs him here because she needs to see she's helping, needs to see she can still help at all. he needs her here because he needs someone, someone who accepts, someone who cares. someone who loves. there's a fleeting thought of his parents, what his mother must be like, but then it's gone again because she's pulling him to her chest and his arms lift up and around her stomach. she lets her fingers run through the hair on the back and top of his head, her other arm wrapped around his neck, the hand settling on his shoulders. she just wants to be that pressure for him, that warmth he can lean on. there's nothing he needs to say, to do, because honestly mary margaret would be perfectly content just to stand there for a good while and hold him.
but then she hears his voice, vibrating a bit from her chest. it's soft, quiet, but she picks up on it well enough. it's okay--it's, it's okay for you, too and her breath hitches a little, almost like a laugh. she's smiling, not that he can see, and hopes that he can't tell that she's also not entirely solid. that there's the slightest tremor to her hands. he says it's okay and she wants to believe him, recognizes how she's been muttering the exact same thing to him, and her eyes close. ]
We're both okay. Nothing can happen here. [ she's not going to make him answer her, not going to make him mutter out that same okay she'd requested from him just a few minutes before. but her hold does tighten around him just a little, pulling him a little closer as if that will convince him.
convince her.
because for all she doesn't like wonderland, before now it has been alright. before now, she's been able to adapt, to manage. things change, events happen, and she and henry and emma have been able to survive it all. but then there'd been this, there'd been mary margaret waking up to that phantom pain on the backs of her hands, and to emma running at her with wet eyes. a tight hug. she hadn't seen stiles and derek, too lost in her own selfish grief to see, but that network post by derek was all she really needed.
she hates it.
if this is what comes of this place, if this is what happens to the people she cares about here, she'll hate it. hate everything about it. she'll fight what she needs to fight and change what she needs to change just so she can keep this from happening to stiles, or henry, or emma, or anyone else ever again. ]
Stiles. [ she mutters it into his hair, combing it back with her fingers. ] You're safe for now.
action!!
the look on stiles' face has that feeling in high gear, and has everything else pushed away. the conversation they'd been having before he even got here had her shaking, had her battling that tightness in her chest, that burning on her hands, in her feet. when she closes her eyes she both tries to remember and tries to ignore what happened, and she can't organize her thoughts enough to know why. to know how. she tries to compartmentalize, tries to push it aside and keep going and make it feel like she can be herself, that she can get up in the morning and smile and live her day like any other. but emma's eyes still follow her, henry still comes and spends more time with her than she's sure he really wants to, and mary margaret knows its because she's not quite there. but with stiles? with stiles she can move, she can think, because she has a need to help that takes precedence over all else. she sees his eyes and she hurts, hurts more than she had since that day, maybe even more than that physical pain, because he shouldn't have to do this. he should have to deal with this.
his eyes are lost and she holds back that breaking in her ribs, the fact that all she wants to do, all she can do, is to give him this space. this time. she needs him here because she needs to see she's helping, needs to see she can still help at all. he needs her here because he needs someone, someone who accepts, someone who cares. someone who loves. there's a fleeting thought of his parents, what his mother must be like, but then it's gone again because she's pulling him to her chest and his arms lift up and around her stomach. she lets her fingers run through the hair on the back and top of his head, her other arm wrapped around his neck, the hand settling on his shoulders. she just wants to be that pressure for him, that warmth he can lean on. there's nothing he needs to say, to do, because honestly mary margaret would be perfectly content just to stand there for a good while and hold him.
but then she hears his voice, vibrating a bit from her chest. it's soft, quiet, but she picks up on it well enough. it's okay--it's, it's okay for you, too and her breath hitches a little, almost like a laugh. she's smiling, not that he can see, and hopes that he can't tell that she's also not entirely solid. that there's the slightest tremor to her hands. he says it's okay and she wants to believe him, recognizes how she's been muttering the exact same thing to him, and her eyes close. ]
We're both okay. Nothing can happen here. [ she's not going to make him answer her, not going to make him mutter out that same okay she'd requested from him just a few minutes before. but her hold does tighten around him just a little, pulling him a little closer as if that will convince him.
convince her.
because for all she doesn't like wonderland, before now it has been alright. before now, she's been able to adapt, to manage. things change, events happen, and she and henry and emma have been able to survive it all. but then there'd been this, there'd been mary margaret waking up to that phantom pain on the backs of her hands, and to emma running at her with wet eyes. a tight hug. she hadn't seen stiles and derek, too lost in her own selfish grief to see, but that network post by derek was all she really needed.
she hates it.
if this is what comes of this place, if this is what happens to the people she cares about here, she'll hate it. hate everything about it. she'll fight what she needs to fight and change what she needs to change just so she can keep this from happening to stiles, or henry, or emma, or anyone else ever again. ]
Stiles. [ she mutters it into his hair, combing it back with her fingers. ] You're safe for now.