I Could Fall In Love (With You)
Actress Lydia Martin returns to Beacon Hills and this is the day Stiles Stilinski has been waiting for.
"Don't," the girl on the television screen cries. "Please don't do this to me."
"I'm sorry," her love interest replies sympathetically, touching her cheek. "But it's what I have to do."
The man pulls out a knife from his sleeve, holding it out as the sharp point connects with her cheek. The man sharply jerks her head back, fingers pulling in her long drenched hair. He slowly begins to carve on her arms, blood trailing out in beads. "Scream, Banshee. Scream!"
Lydia Martin stuffs another round of chocolate ice cream in her mouth, candy wrappers strewn all over her bed, her legs entangled in her pink blanket. The flickering light of the television screen in front of her rebounds light off her face. She grimaces, curling her nose in disgust as she listens to herself scream, the sound ripping through the speakers of her system. Perfectly manicured nimble fingers trail up to her throat subconsciously, recalling that she can no longer properly scream since she had ripped her vocal chords doing that. Instead, the film producers have recycled her screams so they could be used later. Of course, they couldn't be used all the time and she had to actually scream when a scene called for it. Mostly it was done in one take, if she could help it. She was that good.
So good, in fact, it earned her a nomination spot at the Academy Awards this year, from her latest film, The Wailing Woman.
In the film, Lydia played a girl who returned back home after her grandmother's death - it hit a little close to reality - when her character found a strange letter filled with numbers inside her grandmother's urn. It was a different film for Lydia because she was in fact the villain and not her love interest as many believed.
Lydia hits GUIDE on her remote to check how much time she has left. Only twenty five minutes. She swears to God it should be longer than that. Maybe because she's been the one in almost every scene during filming.
The Wailing Woman ticks to its end, signaling the downward spiral of her character and the reason why she's done everything so far. The last scene shows her and her co-star, Jackson Whittemore fighting, receiving blows and kicks from each other, before Lydia manages to grab him and fling him back against the wall. He groans, gets to his feet, brandishing that knife for all that it's worth - because it is. It's his only source of survival, keeping him alive at that very moment. He has found out who she is and now he's going to pay for it.
Her fingers quickly catch his throat, hoisting him high in the air with a maniacal look in her eyes, a lopsided grin crossing over her ruby lips. Jackson's eyes widen with terror as he struggles, then begins to choke. He gasps desperately for air, clawing at his throat until Lydia lets him drop to the cold floor. He wheezes and coughs, blue eyes wheeling when they find her, standing above him unfazed by all that has happened. He watches her begin to walk away, the camera pulling in tight to do a close-up of her face. If you look closely, you can see her face begin to disintegrate as if turning to dust, before all goes to normal again. Lydia raises her fingers and in the background, Jackson's character realizes what's happening. He tries to run but is unsuccessful; frozen in his stance, the camera pans over his still form as you watch his skin become grey and ashy. A muffled shout escapes him and Lydia's fingers hang in the air, ready to snap. But when the screen goes black, you can hear a loud, audible cracking sound, signifying his death.
Music begins to play and Bury Me Alive by We Are The Fallen begins to scrawl through the ending credits, words whisking away to dust. Each cast member is shown with their respective billing along with a quick scene of their faces taken from the film.
Lydia whips her cellphone to her ear, answering the call on the first ring without missing a beat. "So," she asks Allison. "What'd you think?"
"Well, it's different," Allison admits.
"But we loved your character," Kira's voice finishes from the phone by her place by Allison.
"She's a badass!" Allison agrees. The brunette is silent for a moment. "So it's just ends like that?" Allison cuts in, her voice creeping with disbelief. "He dies and she gets away with it? And was she really a Banshee?"
Lydia smiles. She knew Allison and Kira would be a little confused at the ending and to be honest, so was she when she read the script. Even though she had constantly pressured both the writers and the director, she still couldn't get a clear answer. The ending was to remain unclear and it was up to everyone to figure out if it really happened or not and whether she was actually a Banshee.
"I don't know what happens in the end," Lydia confesses to them, holding her blankets closer to herself. "But my theory is that, yes, she is a Banshee."
"Wow."
Lydia pauses the ending credits, seeing the description of the film pop out onto the screen. She shifts on her bed, chewing on her lower lip. The film is rated four and a half stars. Lydia knows she didn't do it and that it has to be her mom or . . .
Or . . .
Lydia blinks and tries to focus on her best friend's voice, tuning back into reality.
" . . . and Stiles broke up and -" Allison says.
"Wait. Wait. What? Stiles and who? Since when does Stiles have a girlfriend?"
"Ex girlfriend -" Allison corrects.
"Malia Tate," Kira offers.
"Six months ago -"
"She fell in love with another guy though -"
"Theo Raeken -"
"Theo Raeken. Oh, my God, yes!"
"Or 'Motherfucker Theo Raeken' as Stiles says," the girls behind the speakerphone chorus. They giggle and Lydia can't help but chuckle.
That definitely sounds like Stiles. Last time, she had seen the boy was in junior year, in the locker room, for . . .
Lydia tries unsuccessfully to push away that thought. She quickly changes the subject. "Well, anyway . . . I'm coming back to Beacon Hills."
There's silence. Finally, Allison lets out a delighted squeal. "You are?! That's great! But I thought you were still filming your new TV show."
"Well, I am," says Lydia. "But I told them all about that creepy tree in the Preserve - you know, the Nemeton? The one we always seemed to run into every once in awhile? I told the writers about that and now they want to check it out and see if we can incorporate it into the show. I'll be catching a flight at nine."
Lydia can picture both Allison and Kira grinning with happiness. It's been a long time since she's seen her friends and she's ecstatic to return. But something still itches in her mind. It pleads and calls for it to be answered. She ignores it because if she listens, if she actually does what she wants . . .
She doesn't want to have her heart broken again.
"I can't believe I'm going to see you again," Allison says happily. "And this time without Skype and texts and calls . . . We have so much we need to catch up on!"
Lydia glances at the clock on the nightstand by the bed. "I gotta go," she murmurs sadly. It's almost 8 and if she doesn't want to miss her flight, then she has to get going. "I'll swing by your house when I get home."
Home, she thinks, with her friends and family. She's still hoping to see Stiles. Hoping that he hasn't forgotten what happened before she left.
_oOo_
Stiles Stilinski sits in his Jeep - Roscoe - fingers sliding up and down the screen on his smartphone. He paused at a recent news article, scanning the headline before letting out a whoop of joy.
JACKSON WHITTEMORE CONFIRMS BREAK-UP WITH ACADEMY AWARDS NOMINEE LYDIA MARTIN, the headline screamed.
He clicks the article and reads through its content. He finds out that Jackson had broken up with the strawberry-blonde girl during the premiere showing of The Wailing Woman.
Stiles always knew that Jackson was a douchebag but he didn't think he could've become an even douchier douchebag - okay, that was a lie.
He stares at the picture below the headline, where a reporter must've snapped when Lydia wasn't looking. She was crying in the picture. God, he really wanted to punch Jackson now.
I think you look really beautiful when you cry.
That hadn't been a lie.
He texts Scott where he is, saying that he'll meet his best friend by their lockers. Soon Scott arrives after planting a kiss on Kira.
The Hispanic boy smiles, letting out a lovesick sigh. He spies Isaac and Allison walking down the hallway in their direction, Isaac's arm slung over Allison's shoulders while the Huntress wraps an arm around the curly blond boy's waist. They acknowledge Scott and Stiles before heading to their first class.
Stiles opens his locker and fiddles with the lock when he can practically sense Scott freeze.
"Oh my God," Scott breathes. He grips Stiles' shoulder. "Dude, I don't want to alarm you but . . . she's here."
Stiles knows somehow that he's talking about Lydia. He could tell that she was here the minute the chatter in the hallway stopped.
Lydia Martin stands in front of the double entrance doors, frozen in place watching as everyone stares at her. Then she moves into motion, seamlessly slipping into the vapid Ice Queen bitch she is. Or was.
But Stiles can see right through her. Always has since third grade.
Her eyes linger on Stiles for a long moment than necessary as she brushes past the two boys. Lydia wears a simple navy blue dress, her hair cascading down her back with a braided hairpiece on top of her head.
Hey, Lydia. You look like . . . you're going to ignore me. That's what Stiles remembers. He said it to her the first time he'd actually made an effort to talk to her, the first day of Freshmen Year. He actually wanted to say, "You look beautiful."
He watches her stride into English, which is also his first class. He wonders if she will ever talk to him about the day she left.
About . . .
The bell rings.
_oOo_
"Hey, Lydia." Stiles plops down in the seat next to Lydia Martin. He notices a strange mark on her ankle and wonders where it's from. "What is that? Is that from the accident?"
Stiles recalls that she had been in an car accident prior to leaving Beacon Hills on the way to her premiere of her film. A deer had crashed headfirst through her windshield.
"No. Prada bit me."
Stiles blinks. "Your dog?"
"No, my designer handbag," Lydia's voice drips with sarcasm. "Yes, my dog."
Stiles thinks, trying to find a way to keep the conversation going, fingers tapping nervously on his desk.."Has it ever bitten you before?"
"Mm-mm."
"Okay," he begins. He leans his body toward her, swiveling in the chair. "What if it's, like, the same thing as the deer? You know, like, how animals start acting weird right before an earthquake or something?"
She shoots him a look as she seems to consider his words. Her eyes soften a bit when she meets his eyes. "Meaning what?" she snaps. "There's gonna be an earthquake?"
"Or something," he mumbles back, scratching the back of his head. "I just . . . Nothing. Look, can we -"
BAM!
Both Lydia and Stiles turn their heads toward the window, hearing a sound. Lydia dismisses it, thinking it was her imagination but still, she is wary and alert.n but still, she is wary and alert
Stiles watches their English teacher, Ms. Blake walk slowly to the window with an almost concerned look on her face. Stiles follows her line of eye outside of the window to where he watches a swarm - no, flock? - of thousands and hundreds of black birds fly toward the school. More and more birds crash through the window, glass shattering everywhere. And Lydia's screaming -
He dives out of his seat, shoving her desk aside, using his arms to cover her, to protect her. He has to protect her. He can't let her get hurt. He feels her arms wrap around him, burying her head into her chest as Stiles tries to shield her the best he can.
Screams and chaos burst out of the classroom as classmates fight to protect themselves from the sharp beaks and malicious beady eyes from the crows.
"Get down, everyone!" Ms. Blake screams, trying her best to shield more students. "Get down, down. Get down! Get down!""
He feels Lydia shuddering and shaking underneath him and murmurs repeatedly, "It's okay. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here."
Just focus on my voice.
After what seems like millennium, the birds either lay dying on the floor or have vanished from the grounds and skies around Beacon Hills.
The coast seems clear. Stiles stands, helping Lydia to her feet. Her hand grips his tightly, never letting go. He turns to the strawberry-blonde, placing his hands on her cheeks. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," she says, smiling wistfully. "Thanks to you. You . . . You protected me."
She suddenly throws her arms around him. She doesn't care what anybody thinks, not Jackson, not Aiden. . . .
All she wants is Stiles and she feels so stupid to have waited this long. "We need to talk."
_oOo_
The school excuses them for the day, letting them go home because of the weird freak bird attack.
Stiles drives Lydia to his house. She enters his bedroom - a bit hesitantly, she might add, even though she's been in it before - and sits on his bed. In front of her, stands a clear board with a white marker scribbled on them saying things like Who is the Darach? and Who are the Dread Doctors? Simple questions, she realizes that are taken from television shows: Resurrect and Wolf Rising.
Stiles must be trying to figure out who they were before anybody else did. She sees a Star Wars poster perched above his dresser and has to chuckle. She watched all the films, of course, and recently Stiles was trying to get Scott to watch them. (So far, no luck.)
A red string travels from the board to the dresser, wrapped around a picture frame. It's a drawing, she probably wouldn't have recognized if she'd never knew who had done it. But she did.
It's hers.
She recognizes the way the tree limbs and roots are sketched in her hand, the way her initials, L.M., lays curled in the right hand corner, underneath her drawing of the Nemeton.
Stiles kept it. It was just a drawing she did, bored one day out of her mind during English class junior year. She thought she had thrown it away. Apparently, she hadn't.
Picking up the picture frame, she notices a white paper flutter to the floor. Panicking, she dives for it, retrieving it as she straightens, smoothing out her dress.
It's not the drawing of the Nemeton as she feared, but something else. A letter, it looks like, with the words "For Lydia", written in Stiles' handwriting. She wonders if she should read it. Should she wait until he ever gives it to her?
Before she can change her mind, she opens the letter and begins to read.
Dear Lydia,
I love you.
- Stiles
Lydia almost wants to cry. Is this what her heart has beat so thunderous for? For him saying those three words to her? Aiden had made it seem that the letter was one long page instead of three words when he'd confronted her.
Now she understands.
Stiles returns from the kitchen, carrying two bags of chips. "All right, we only got Doritos and Lays, which one do you want?" he asks, before glancing up and seeing Lydia sitting on the edge of his bed, the letter in hand. "Lydia . . ."
Tears fill the strawberry-blonde girl's eyes. She opens her mouth a couple of times, unsure of what to say. Then she lets the words tumble out. "Stiles," she begins softly, standing in front of him. She gazes into his eyes before biting her lip. "Remember that day when we . . ."
"Kissed," Stiles finishes. He remembers it all too well. He'd gotten a call that said his father had been kidnapped by some crazy woman and he had had a panic attack. Lydia had stopped it when she'd pressed her lips to his. Then she'd left and hadn't returned . . . until now. "Yeah. I remember."
"I left because I thought . . . if I loved you . . . then - Then you would leave. I'd get my heart broken again . . . .Like Jackson. Aiden -"
"I'm not them," Stiles replies gently, placing a hand on her cheek, stroking her soft skin. Her emerald eyes glisten as she stares back at him, taking in his words. "I'll never be like them," he promises. "Never, Lydia. I can promise that til the day I die."
They stare at each other in silence, enjoying the close proximity of their bodies being pressed together. One lick from Stiles on his lower lip sends Lydia into motion. She kisses him, fingers curling into his brown hair, his arms holding her tight against him as he kisses her back. It's a slow kiss like the one in the locker room. They stay like that for a more minute or two, locking lips with each other until they pull away, both of them breathless. "You held your breath again," she says, smiling.
"So did you," Stiles says.
Suddenly, a ringtone interrupts their moment. Lydia curses and realizes that it's her phone making all the noise. She retrieves it from her purse and answers the call. She realizes that she has almost missed the meeting with the producers and writers of her new show, The Danver House. Now that she thinks about she wonders if they would make an exception for Stiles to have a role. They still need to find someone for the role of Steven Danvers, her love interest in the show. Clicking her phone shut, she turns to Stiles.
"Wanna go visit a creepy tree?"
- FIN.
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