Nature and Nurture: Finding the Perfect Blend

Chapter 1: The Cell

Summary:

The beginning is just the starting place.

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Lying on the floor of his cell, Stiles shivered limply through another spike of pain. It was worse when he tensed, so curbing the instinctual reaction to thrash about was important. If that wasn't somewhat of a paradox he didn't know what was. Action through inaction. He'd read about that somewhere.

A groan he hadn't meant to make forced its way out of his throat, causing ripples of sharp fire that threatened a coughing fit. Shallowly, Stiles held his breath for a second, let it go, held it again, repeated until the risk abated, then let his breathing even out.

Until the pain cycle dropped into its lower range there'd be no sleep coming, no reprieve through oblivion. All Stiles could do was wait it out. Luckily, he was alone for the moment, his tormentor leaving him for a long enough period of time that he'd begun to dare to hope that maybe the torture was at an end and he could go home. He missed his dad.

***

Stiles had been feeling good lately. It had become apparent that if he wasn't running for his life, or fighting for his friend's lives, or his dad's, or anyone else's, that he was quite capable of living a pretty decent life. Go figure.

Beacon Hills had been quiet for a while now. Quiet enough that life just wondered in and filled the gaps that fear had previously occupied. Stiles found he enjoyed the peace. Sure, he liked the adrenalin rush of danger because he wasn't completely sane, apparently, but he didn't miss the anxiety of trying not to loose anyone during their death-defying escapades.

But to recap: It was quiet. Life kept going. As it does.

School had been going without a hitch for the most part and he'd managed to get and hold onto a not-to-be-scoffed-at grade-point average. Stiles was confidently looking forward to being accepted into numerous law related courses after graduation. His dad was rightly proud of him. His friendship with Scott was stronger than ever, too. They'd had some really intense talks and they were never going to let something like the Donavan fiasco break them apart again.

Stiles had also taken to doing some deep introspective and had set about making some necessary changes. Specifically, with Lydia and Malia. The girlfriends he needed, just without the sex. Because even though sex was awesome and the best ever and he missed it, as in his hand was going to fall off from over-use, he was better off being just good friends with the women in his life. He ignored the fact that both Lydia and, somewhat surprisingly, Malia, were more comfortable with him now. He didn't want to dwell on how that reflected on him as a person. If the need for these changes stemmed from a deep personal issue, it was one he didn't like to think too long about. Because there was nothing to be done about it. So he didn't. Think about it. Much. He focussed on other things.

Like lacrosse. Despite his winning of a game pretty much on his own, thank you, when he fumbled and dropped the ball for the nth time in practice and his team members ribbed him, it didn't do anything great for his self-esteem. Especially when there were able-bodied people running around who didn't even need to try to be good at physical activities. Like Liam. Who'd been good before he was a wolf but was just showing off now.

Reservations aside, it had all been going so well. If Stiles had to try not to think too much about Derek, that's just the way it was. Truthfully, his feelings towards Derek freaked him out and he was just trying to come to terms with the fact that Derek's smile did a whole lot more for him than Lydia's ever had. And she'd been the cause for the development of his ten year plan. It was probably a good thing Derek wasn't in Beacon Hills; that he'd left after they'd been through the horrific mess of Mexico. Stiles hadn't even had time to pause before Braedon was pulling Derek away.