Eight || Hope

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|| Hope

"So," Melissa McCall prepped Jacy for her anesthetic, the two in a patient room much too early in the morning, "how long have you been able to speak with ghosts?"

"Too long." Jacy's eyes flickered around the room, whispers brushing past her ears.

Melissa smiled just barely, flicking the syringe in her hand. "Well, out of all the things I've seen, it's nice to know someone more textbook."

"Textbook?" Jacy asked, barely noticing the needle in her hand.

"Before all of, this, I wasn't much on the stories about werewolves or monsters in general, but I always believed in ghosts. It seemed more logical." Melissa cleaned Jacy's hand as she was sewing her up. "It made sense because a ghost is just a person who has died when a werewolf is someone who literally turns into part animal."

Jacy grinned, "Yet both are real, huh?"

She laughed, "Incredibly real."

Jacy winced, but not from the stitches. She closed her eyes, inhaling a soft string of breaths.

"Jacy?" Melissa looked up to the teen, "Did the anesthetic not take?"

"It's not that." She opened her eyes, "It's just, It's kind of loud in here."

Nurse McCall's eyes searched the room questionably.

It was dead silent.

"Do they talk to you often?"

"Usually they just scream."

"Is that what you live with?" Melissa hooked the needle through the end of the long, now closed gash.

"For two years, yeah." Jacy hated hospitals over everything, yet she was in them often. "But I've gotten used to it."

"Two years?"

"Unfortunately." Jacy wanted to spend her Saturday sleeping, but Doctor Dane insisted she went so her cut wouldn't get infected. She absently wiggled her feet decked in maroon high top converse. "Am I done?"

"Yep. Come back in a week and I'll take them out for you." Melissa took off her blue latex gloves and put them in the disposal bin. "So, what are you doing after this?"

Jacy adjusted the sleeve of her loose black sweater before getting off of the hospital bed. "I'm going to go talk to the Sheriff. I should tell him about Stiles."

"Are you sure that's the right thing to do?" Melissa asked, taking Stilinski's position to mind.

"To tell him?" Jacy picked up her brown jacket and draped it over her arm.

"From what I understand, you can't put a time stamp on when you can bring Stiles back." Melissa wasn't sure if she knew about Claudia. "For someone who lost his wife in this same hospital, your claim on Stiles is going to give him hope. A lot of hope."

"Things like hope can help. Stiles has to be strong for this to work."

"Jacy, but what if it doesn't work? I have faith in you and in Stiles, but in everything there's always the slightest chance that it won't work. If you give the Sheriff that hope and Stiles dies, it'll kill him, too."

"I can do this, Melissa." Jacy meant it, with all her heart.

Melissa smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You really care about him, don't you?"

"More than I was expecting to," Jacy replied, trying to ignore the wailing down the hall.

"Do what you think is right, just remember what I told you." Melissa patted her back as they went into the nearly empty corridor.

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