Chapter Text
Seven Years Earlier.
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They say your life can change in the blink of an eye.
At the age of 9, neither Lydia, Stiles, nor Scott knew just how true that was.
They'd known each other since they were in diapers, had been friends since Lydia scolded the boys for eating sand in preschool, and were still going strong halfway through the cooties phase of their lives when everything they knew was torn apart in a matter of seconds.
It was a Wednesday, Claudia's day to drive the three of them home from school. As they drove farther from the school, there was a burst of noise from the backseat, and Claudia knew her son well enough to know that it was coming from him. Stiles and Scott were in the middle of one of their heated debates, today's topic being whether or not Spiderman's webs would be able to catch the Flash.
The debate had turned into a full blown argument as they passed the Beacon Hills Preserve, and Claudia looked in the rear view mirror. Stiles' hands gesturing wildly, Scott's curls flying this way and that as he shook his head. Smiling softly, she sees Lydia next to her son, lost in a book, and Claudia is sure she's rolling her eyes at her friends.
The smile is wiped from her face a moment later when something darts in front of the car, and she turns the wheel frantically, doing everything in her power to keep the car on the road, to protect the children in the backseat. The noise from the back stops abruptly as the car swerves, and is replaced by terrified screams shortly after. Claudia finds herself swallowing screams of her own, trying to be brave for her son and his friends.
She knows the moment the car leaves the paved road that they're in trouble. The tires aren't getting traction in the dirt, and Claudia does everything in her power to keep the car from flipping. They're headed straight for a cluster of trees at the edge of the forest, and no matter what she does, no matter how many times she turns the wheel or slams on the breaks, the car won't stop. Nothing seems to slow their trajectory, and time seems to stand still for her as she looks in the mirror once more, at the three small faces, especially the one in the middle. She hopes that it's not the last time she'll see it. Though she's never been very religious, she finds herself praying that her son won't have to live without her, that she won't have to live without him.
The impact comes before she can even bring her eyes back to the trees, and in her last seconds, she whispers words of love to her son and his friends, and then the world goes black.
It's more than twenty minutes before another car passes the preserve and catches sight of the smoking wreck. Parking his car, he dials 911 as he races into the line of trees.
Wrenching open the back door, he finds children in the backseat, and they stare up at him with wide eyes. The little girl is closest to him, and as he reaches out to free her from the car, she starts screaming, a piercing noise that rattles his teeth. She allows him to pull her from the car, but continues to scream, tears streaming down her face as he leaves her a safe distance from the car, and goes back for the other child.
Contrary to the girl's reaction, the boy is silent until he's settled next to her. He takes her small hand into his own, and then begins repeating a single word, almost as if to himself.
"Stiles...Stiles?" His whispers are mingled with quiet sobs.
The man is in the middle of opening the front door of the vehicle when he hears sirens in the distance. He winces as he touches the woman's arm. He'd assumed she was unconscious, but her skin is already cool to the touch, and his heart sinks.
He's laying her down in the grass when police cars, an ambulance, and fire truck all speed towards the preserve, lights blazing, sirens breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the scene.
A deputy rushes from one of the police cars, racing to the woman, and he's barely gotten a look at her before he's sinking to his knees, tears pouring from underneath the frames of his mirrored sunglasses.
"Claudia...Claudia, no!"
He whips around, glasses flying from his face as he sweeps the boy into his arms. The boy wraps his slender arms around the deputy, and he looks over the boy's shoulder, reaching a hand out for the little girl. She's more cautious than the boy had been, but melts into the mans arms seconds later.
"Where's Stiles, Scott?" The man's voice is quiet, but frantic.
"I don't know, Mr. S! The car crashed, and when I woke up, he was gone!" Before the boy can say anything else, the mans arms drop, and he sinks even lower into the ground, sobs wracking his body.
After a minute, the deputy seems to pull himself together somewhat, and shouts to the other police officers to start a search in the woods, to look for Stiles. He looks up at the man who had called 911.
"Where's my son?" His voice is ragged and heavy with emotion.
"When I got here, it was just these three in the car. There was no one else." The deputy sagged even further into himself as the man spoke. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
The deputy gives into his emotions fully, sobs wracking his body as he slumps down, his head coming to a rest on the woman's stomach.
No matter how loud the little girl had screamed, nothing would be louder to the man that day than the deputy's mumbling about his dead wife and missing son.