keeper (d. Hale)

tasted like apples.

"I'm not sure I know how to pronounce this... or if it's not actually a misspelling..." Dr Vandenberg sighed as he flipped between the different pages in Stiles' medical file.

Noah ground his teeth together as he watched the distain cross the doctor's face with each syllable he tried to form. It wasn't Stiles' fault that the doctor couldn't pronounce the name Claudia had insisted on for their son.

"Just call him Stiles," Noah grunted.

The doctor acknowledged the father's wishes with a subtle nod. He flipped back to the front of the file and looked to the boy sitting on the edge of the bed. "Okay. Stiles, just to warn you, you're going to hear a lot of noise during the MRI. It's due to pulses of electricity going through metal coils inside the machine. Uh, if you want, we can get you earplugs or headphones..."

Stiles' hand locked in Delilah's tightened. The knuckles turning bone white. She squeezed back, knowing exactly how nervous  he was to undergo this test.

"Stiles?" The doctor prompted again after the lack of response.

The boy was distant, only interacting fully with the nurse at his side.

"Oh, no. No, I don't need anything." Stiles stuttered and rubbed at his eyes. They were bloodshot and blackened by dark rings.

"It's okay to be nervous, Sti," Delilah reassured him with a low whisper. She lifted her free hand to run through his short hair.

He nodded with out looking her in the eye and squeezed her hand again.

"Hey, we're just on the other side of that window, okay?" Melissa smiled near the exam room door. 

Stiles tried to smile back but he was uncomfortable. Between the attention, the sleepwalking and the scratchy pull of the hospital gown he had to wear for this test, he just wanted to get everything over with.

He wanted to sleep, like the dead.

"Okay." Stiles sighed as he watched Melissa move from the corner of his eye. She took her place next to his father and doctor in the observation room.

Stiles turned to Scott who hovered over Delilah's shoulder. "You know what they're looking for, right?"

Delilah bit her lip knowing exactly what this test was for.

Scott looked unsure and tucked his hands into his jean pockets. He rocked on his heels.

"It's called frontotemporal dementia. Areas of your brain start to shrink." He began to rub the heal of hand aggressively into his eye socket and only stopped when Delilah pulled the hand away. "It's what my mother had. It's the only form of dementia that can hit teenagers... and there's no cure."

Stiles' voice faded at the end. Perhaps if he didn't put the effort into the words, they wouldn't ring true.

Delilah's thumb had begun to stroke the back of his hand, hoping it would bring him comfort. If this was dementia, they would all cross that bridge together. All of them.

"Stiles, if you have it, we'll do something." Scott said assuringly, though he didn't sound that convinced. 

Stiles gave his best friend a watery smile.

"Mrs. Hale? Mr. McCall? We are ready to start the test..."

Delilah moved to the side and dropped Stiles hand as Scott pulled him into a bone crushing hug. "No matter what-"

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles yapped. "We will figure it out."

Scott left to join the others and Delilah turned to follow. A tug on her hand stopped her from getting too far.