Chapter Text
His attention wavered for just a second and he felt lightheaded. He had been in the loft, with Scott, Derek, and Parrish. Parrish had said something and now he couldn’t remember what it was. “Too much Adderall,” Stiles thought. Maybe he was getting sick. Derek’s loft, which was usually cold to his skinny frame, suddenly felt hot and the light was way too bright. “What was that?” he asked Parrish.
“Maybe we can use kanima venom,” Parrish said, tentatively.
“Kanima venom?” Stiles asked, his eyes going wide in disbelief. “Why would you want to give Lydia kanima venom for her birthday?”
Stiles jumped as someone behind him shouted, “Cut... cut… cut!” He turned and nearly passed out from shock. What should have been the other half of Derek’s loft looked like a movie set. There were lights and cameras and people standing there, looking at him like he’d lost his mind. One of those people, a tall, thin, older man, was striding toward him. Red-faced and puffing, the man looked like he was fuming mad.
“O’Brien, what the hell is going on?” the man shouted, coming abreast of Stiles and poking him in the chest with one long, skinny finger. “This scene is not about Lydia’s birthday. The three of you,” he continued, jabbing that finger toward Stiles, Scott, and Derek, “are trying to help Parrish figure out how to stop the bad guy from doing something. And, I might point out that there is no reference to Lydia’s birthday at all in any of the block of scripts we’re currently shooting.” As he said this last, he took what looked like a rolled up copy of a script out of his jacket pocket and whacked Stiles over the head with it.
He then turned around and stalked back toward the cameras, shouting, “Reset and go again!” as he did so.
Stiles felt panic rising in him. This couldn’t be happening. His life had finally returned to semi-normal following the whole thing with the nogitsune… and then the crowd of assassins that had tried to kill all of them soon after that… and now this was happening.
He turned to Scott, only to see his friend along with Derek and Parrish meekly walking toward the loft window. How could they be alright with any of this? They were acting like nothing was wrong. They should have been as freaked out as he was. Why weren’t they?
“Guys!” he shouted, running toward his friends. “How the hell are the three of you alright with this? These guys suddenly appear out of nowhere… the loft is not a loft anymore… and the three of you are acting like nothing is wrong. What the hell?!”
“Dylan?” Scott said, looking at him questioningly. “If this is a joke, you need to stop. We’re behind schedule and we don’t have time for this. Now, knock it off.”
Stiles stood there, gawking at him. “Dylan? Who the hell is Dylan?” he asked.
“Posey,” Derek said, looking from Stiles to Scott, with concern, “I don’t think he’s joking. I think he believes what he’s saying. I think he believes he’s Stiles.”
“Believes…? Believes?!” Stiles shouted, a tone of desperation in his voice that even he recognized. “I AM Stiles!” He was trembling. He felt a familiar tightness in his chest, the first sign of a panic attack on its way.
The man, who had walked away was back, now standing at Scott’s side, a short, dark-haired woman was with him. They all looked very concerned.
Scott turned to the man, “Leonard, what’s going on here? Is this a joke or what?”
“Damn if I know,” the man named Leonard said, his anger now replaced by confusion and worry.
“Ok… ok… I can prove it,” Stiles said, reaching in his back pocket to pull out his wallet. He extracted his driver’s license and handed it to Leonard. “See, that’s me.”
“Wow,” Scott said,” looking at his license as Leonard held it up. “That’s a good one. Did one of the prop guys make that for you?”
Leonard looked at the license carefully. “If this is a fake, it’s a damn good one,” he said. “I don’t know if any of the guys here could have pulled it off, even as good as they are. It certainly feels real, and look at that holograph.” He turned the card back and forth to highlight the changing holographic image on its surface. Then, seeing something on the card, he snorted. “Yea, like that’s Stiles’ real first name,” he said and handed the card back to Stiles, shaking his head. “Take it from me Dylan, whatever Jeff decides Stiles’ first name is, it won’t be that.”
Stiles took the card and shoved it back into his wallet. This was too much. They wouldn’t even believe his driver’s license. He was really shaking, now. “This can’t be happening!” he thought in desperation. “Am I dreaming?!”
Then, his legs gave out and he collapsed in a puddle on the floor. “Nooooo!” he screamed, “this can’t be happening!” He slapped the side of his face several times, trying to wake himself from a non-existent dream. “Wake up!” he shouted with each blow. Tears poured from his eyes as he shook, gasping for breath as the panic attack took full hold. Distantly, he heard Leonard tell the woman, “Go get the medic.”
Scott and Derek were on their knees beside him, while Parrish stood next to Leonard, looking concerned and down-right scared.
“Dude,” Scott said, touching his arm lightly, “you really think that your Stiles and that I’m Scott?”
“Hell yes!” Stiles gasped. “Who the hell else would you be?” The shock on Scott’s face at this was so amazing that it made Stiles’ panic attack even worse.
Leonard now had a smart phone in his hand and was talking to someone. “Jeff,” he said, “you gotta get down here right now. We’re on the loft set and I think O’Brien’s gone round the bend and up a poll.” There was a short pause, then Leonard said, “Because he thinks he’s his character. He thinks he’s Stiles and he’s not joking.”
“Scott,” Stiles said shakily, looking up at his friend (or, at least the person he thought was his friend) in what he knew must be a look of utter desperation, “please tell me this is all some kind of joke you guys are playing on me.” The gasps were getting worse. He was finding it hard to breath. “Because...” gasp “if the hallucinations are back like I had after the whole darach slash human sacrifice thing...” gasp “if they’ve really come back...” gasp “then you guys are going to have to take me back to Eichen House permanently!” gasp… gasp… “Because I can’t take it anymore!” gasp… gasp… gasp…. Stiles passed out. The last thing he remembered seeing was Scott and Derek looking at each other in shocked and complete disbelief.
=== ===
Stiles jerked back into consciousness, a nasty odor in his nose. He opened his eyes to see a guy dressed in a medic’s outfit pulling back a vile of what must have been smelling salts. Behind the medic stood Leonard, along with a new guy. The new guy was youngish, handsome, with light hair and angular features. He also seemed to be in charge. Scott and Derek were with them and were acting like they knew the guy, but everyone else stood back at least 10 feet, giving them plenty of room.
“…seemed like he really believed he was Stiles,” Scott was telling the man. “Jeff, I’m really worried. This is not like Dylan at all. It’s totally bizarre.”
“He’s awake,” the medic said, “but I still need to finish checking him out.”
“Can you do that in his trailer?” asked the man that Scott had called Jeff.
“Sure,” the medic said. Then, turning to Stiles, “You feel like walking?”
“Yea, I think so,” Stiles replied, shakily getting to his feet, using the medic as support.
“Okay,” The medic said, “where’s your trailer?”
“It’s… wait… I have a trailer?”
“I’ll show you,” Derek said, motioning them to follow him.
“I’ll be along in a minute,” the man named Jeff said, “I just have to juggle the shoot schedule.”
Jeff touched Stiles gently on the arm as Stiles walked past. “This will be okay, Dyl… Stiles,” he said, correcting the name. “Just try to relax.”
Stiles looked down at the man’s hand and, after a moment, nodded, not at all sure that anything would ever “be okay” again.
A few minutes later, Stiles sat in a comfortable trailer as the medic checked all of his vital signs, looked in his ears with a scope, checked his reflexes, etc., etc., etc. Stiles, meanwhile, oscillated between being completely freaked out and completely despondent. He could already hear the doors of his padded cell shutting behind him. He was crazy and even he had to admit it.
Derek tried to reassure him that everything was going to be alright, but that just made it worse. For God’s sake, Derek was smiling… or at least trying to. Derek almost never smiled. If Derek were smiling, it meant that the world was about to end.
Finally, Jeff and Scott walked through the trailer door. Jeff, who was staring at a tablet PC in his hand, looked up and asked the medic, “How is he?”
“Blood pressure is a little high,” the medic said. “Not surprising, considering how agitated he’s been… and continues to be.” This last was accompanied by a sharp look at Stiles. “Other than that, he’s fine.”
“Good,” Jeff said. “Thanks for your help. You can go.” The medic nodded, gathered up his equipment, and left.
When he was gone, Jeff turned his attention to Stiles. “Hi, Stiles,” he said, a warm smile on his face, “tell me your story. How did you get here?”
“I don’t even know where here is,” Stiles said, fidgeting and looking down at his hands. He was so exasperated and upset that for a long moment he just sat there. Finally, he began. “I was in Derek’s loft. Scott, Derek, and Parrish were there. We were discussing what to get Lydia for her eighteenth birthday. We didn’t want to end up with duplicate gifts, so we thought we’d coordinate. Parrish said something and I didn’t catch it because I suddenly felt lightheaded… and… and there was this flash of light… you know… really bright. I remember thinking that I must have had too much Adderall. So, I asked him to repeat what he said and he gives me this line about kanima venom. The rest, you know.
“That… that wasn’t Parrish I was talking to, was it?” Stiles asked sheepishly.
“No,” Jeff said, sympathetically, “he’s an actor named Ryan Kelley. He plays Parrish on the show.
“The show?” Stiles asked.
“Teen Wolf,” Scott said. “It’s a television series on MTV. You’ve been on it with us for the last four years.” He must have registered the look on Stiles face, because he added, rather gently, “and no, I’m not Scott McCall either. My name is Tyler Posey. I play Scott on the show. You don’t remember any of this, do you?”
“No,” Stiles said, shaking, “to me it’s all… real.”
“You’re not Derek, either, are you?” Stiles said to the cheerful Derek lookalike.
“No, my name is Tyler Hoechlin.”
This was too much for Stiles. All these people he thought he knew weren’t who he thought they were. Panic suddenly rose in his throat, strangling his senses and squeezing his air supply. “Oh God… Oh, God…,” Stiles started shouting, “not only am I crazy, I’m not even crazy about what I thought I was crazy about! I have another life I don’t remember and I just think I’m a crazy teenager whose best friend is a werewolf.”
“Easy, Dylan,” Hoechlin said, putting one hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to do everything we can to help you get a grip on things. It’ll all work out. Just don’t worry.”
“Dylan?” Stiles asked. “Is that my name?”
“Yes,” Posey said, putting a hand on Stiles’ other shoulder, “Dylan O’Brien. You’re an actor, too.” The two of them smiled at Stiles/Dylan, encouragingly.
Stiles nodded, trying to get a grip on his emotions and prevent another panic attack. He was not succeeding.
“You know,” Jeff said, looking up from his tablet, “I’m not so sure he really is Dylan.”
“What?” Posey and Hoechlin said together, looking up. Even Stiles stopped, mid-way in having his second panic attack of the day. Jeff’s words forcing him to hold his breath, releasing the panic attack’s grip on him.
“Come look at this,” Jeff continued, indicating the tablet. The three crowded around him, staring at the screen. “This was the shoot from today… the scene where things went wrong. Notice what happened just before Ryan says the line about kanima venom.” They watched as the scene progressed. Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light.
“What the hell was that?” Posey asked.
“Leonard thought it was a bulb in one of the lights blowing, or a power surge or something,” Jeff said.
“I remember the flash, but it didn’t look like a blown bulb to me then, and still doesn’t,” Posey said and Hoechlin agreed.
“I don’t think it does either,” Jeff said. “Now look at this. See what happens when I slow the scene down and we look at it frame-by-frame.
They all caught it, the first time through.
“It’s like Dylan disappears and then reappears,” Hoechlin said.
“Yes, Jeff continued, “the light flash lasts for 15 frames, or just over half a second. During the first 7, Dylan’s image fades out. Then for one frame, he’s not there at all.”
“And then he reappears during the last 7 frames,” Posey said.
“Or, he disappears and Stiles appears in his place,” Jeff said. He paused the video at the fifteenth frame. “Look at his left wrist, just at the cuff. Do you see it?”
“It looks like a watch,” Hoechlin said. Stiles thought he sounded puzzled.
“But Dylan doesn’t usually wear a watch when he plays Stiles,” Posey said.
“But Stiles wears a watch when he plays Stiles,” Stiles said, holding up his left arm in triumph, to reveal a nice-looking older model Timex. “Lydia gave it to me. It belonged to her mom’s dad.”
“And, of course you’re going to wear it, because Lydia gave it to you,” Jeff said, smiling.
Relief flooded through Stiles. He wasn’t crazy. He really was himself. Maybe he was in a different universe, maybe he didn’t know how to get home, but at least he was not crazy, and that meant the world to him.
Stiles came out of his revere to see that Jeff, Posey, and Hoechlin had all taken a step back and were staring at him in what almost seemed like awe.
“Guys,” Stiles said, concern clouding his former relief, “what’s wrong.”
The three looked at one another. Finally, Posey stepped forward and poked Stiles in the arm, like he was testing whether Stiles was really there.
“Dude, what was that for?” Stiles asked Posey.
“You’re Stiles,” Posey said, a strange smile spreading across his face. “You’re really Stiles.” And he proceeded to give Stiles and enormous bear hug.
The hug caught Stiles by surprise. In about 30 seconds, they’d gone from treating him like a complete nut job to a long lost family member. “That’s nice,” Stiles said, trying to hug back, “awkward, but nice.”
“What Posey is trying to say,” Hoechlin interjected, as Stiles managed to extract himself from the hug, “is that we’ve spent the last four years with these characters and they’re all very personal to us. So, when you show up and you’re real, it’s a major thing for us.”
“So, You’re saying that Posey is fan-girling me?” Stiles asked.
“Pretty much, yea,” Hoechlin replied.
“Totally,” Posey said, grinning broadly.
“But how does a fictional character come to life?” Jeff asked no one in particular.
“Maybe he’s from another universe,” Posey said. “They say that there are a lot of alternate realities out there and that everything that can happen does happen in one or another of them.”
“The many worlds theory,” Jeff said. “That would certainly account for a universe in which Stiles really exists.
“What’s the many worlds theory?” Hoechlin asked.
“It’s the theory that there are an infinite number of alternate realities that exist and that everything that can happen does happen in at least one of them,” Stiles said. “So, somewhere a universe exists where my life and Scott’s life is a television show.
“And somewhere, a universe exists where the characters on our television show are real,” Posey said.
“But, if you’re really Stiles,” Jeff said, a note of concern in his voice, “then where the hell is Dylan?”